fine whine

As I try to catch myself up on ketchup I encounter (or rather, don't encounter) sites I remember that have since gone away. A few have officially closed, like Jeffrey Huston's Believe-me, the only movie review site I thought I'd ever need, but most just disappear, such as Impropaganda, F-u-F-me, and HQ2O. I understand that time erodes the humor or poignancy of some content, but I would prefer to make that judgment myself, dammit. It's annoying, moreover, to see "Page loading..." in the status bar, only to be disappointed by a search-portal and numerous pop-up windows. Clearly somebody is aware of "hot" addresses and buys them up chock-a-block, preying on the foolish few still expecting the site they recall or seek. I can only wonder if, undaunted, they click on some of the new links presented, eager to click on something and proceed.

I was once a music reviewer for 181.4 Degrees From The Norm. Now the address points to a site entirely void of music reviews. What gives? Am I asking too much to demand to have every site ever created always remain? I've kept my site up for a number of years without a hiccup or significant damage to my wallet, and I guess I expect the same from everybody else. The closest analogue I can envision is the spontaneous combustion of books on a library shelf. There and readable one minute, gone the next.

True, spontaneous library book combustion would have one upside: it would make room for more books. The internet isn't constrained by shelf space. It is supposed to be a dynamic medium, unlike books which are static, unchanging, dead. And a lot of sites do wear out their welcome, such as those for the oncoming-millennial-party/apocalypse and every movie made in the last three years, but the idea of their content disappearing makes me uneasy somehow. Websites are supposed to be there for me whenever I want them, not just as long as somebody keeps paying for them. Thank goodness for the Internet Archive, I guess.

Until they too pick up shop and move on, of course.