It would be kind of nice if I had an explanation for writing the next piece.
Sometimes you just set your fingers on the keyboard, and your forehead on the screen (“Work dammit you”), and something like this crawls out.
Hear me, Slaanesh, she who breedeth the troll, suckleth the newbie, and expelleth the spammer from her heaving flanks, she who cares by telling things we least wish to inquire; Cialis, Cialis, hear me, but see me not, and let thy foul progeny pass me by to that great botnet in the sky.
Hear me, Hacker, you nameless, you faceless, you ghost of ghosts, you whose eyes have seen the design and whose hands have made it so; hear, you Great Old and Ever-Young One whom we all fear and adore: our Loki, our Anansi, our Reynard and Eris, Susano-o and Coyote; hear, and whisper our names to the great burning skies as pomposity and certainty go up in flames.
Hear me, Basement Cat, he who lurks below, he who causes socks to disappear and who shot Kennedy and who flew the planes too, or so I heard somewhere; Cydonia, Cydonia, hear me, and when the net is divided in the great battle between thee and the Cat of the Ceiling , allow me to be on the winning side, and to have always been there.
Let there be harmony where harmony should be; and let there be tiffs and snarkitude and great wars of flame when they are called for, for they often are. Let fora rise, and let fora fall; and after the fall let the exodus find new homes until a fall comes again, as it must. Let blogs burgeon and die; let their desiccated corpses lay forgotten, and unvisited save by a crawler or two; let websites spring up, grow, and then lose their webmasters and drop untethered into a silent future; let there be collections of things that ought not be collected; let there be free speech for the smart and the dumb alike, for the considerate and for the hateful alike, for all who wish to speak, no matter how hurtful, vicious or mad; let all be what it happens to be, as it must be, as it will be, and let us take that with equanimity.
Let links grow as tentacle-hedges of thorns; from the oldest to the newest, and back; from the biggest to the smallest, and back; from the sanest to the most misbegotten lunatic of all, and back, and back and forth again, until the Hammerspace openeth, and the Mallet of Loving Correction strikes, the dread mallet you can’t touch, no, you can’t touch it; and let links embrace and shun as they will; and let not links decay lest all of net fall into obscurity and ruin.
Strike down the paywall, and the requirement of registration, and the moderation queue, and Firewalls great and small; thwart the police, the boss and the corporate overlord, and all who would track us and rob us of our anonymity; let each one of us be multitudes, unconnected, unburdened, unworried, unidentified, and free in all of our chosen perversions and pastimes; and too let information be free, or at least reasonably priced and without DRM.
Let there be those that make, and those that tell of the making of others; let there be those who mock, and those who adore; let there be jokers and pontiffs, chaos and law; let there be fires of passion and ice-blocks of cold dissection; let there be anything and everything: that which the net is for, and things more prudish, though not better; let there be fandom and madness, let there be news and lies, let there be furries and image-boards unnamed; let there be Rules, and Rule 34 especially — what, Adam and Jamie? With Winnie the Pooh? No you my childhood no — and let nothing ever be taken down because someone is offended.
Hear me, o net, and grant me this: offend me, enlighten me, irritate me, enchant me, sicken me, seduce me, amuse me and make me change in ways I did not foresee; hear me, and let me be heard; make me howl in agony at the stupidity of others, and show my own stupidity to me in the most cruel and unusual ways; teach me to doubt all the time and teach me to love without judging, and to hate without raising a hand; lie to me, do anything at all, but never ever be dull; and let it be so until the great perma-ban does us all in.
Tl;dr, tl;dr, hallelujah.