Why God why?

Internet Terror Cell Neutralized

twitter killed fyad

— dark triad tweeter (@bIoach) April 29, 2014

It’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment that social media sapped all the vitality out of the big internet forums, which used to be the internet’s most productive creative engines. But it feels like maybe 2010 was the year that the death spiral started — when it became clear that the people who were moving on were not coming back. Twitter and Facebook and Reddit and Tumblr and probably a bunch of apps I’ve never heard of are where the obsessive young internet people go to play now, for better or for worse.

Before there was Reddit, there was Something Awful and its forums; before 4chan’s notorious /b/ forum, there was FYAD. FYAD (Fuck You And Die) was a proudly inscrutable Something Awful subforum dedicated to terrorizing the site’s more accessible communities, as well as the internet at large. As of today, FYAD is dead: removed from the site’s forum listings and deleted except for this best-of collection.

The long-defunct Encyclopedia Dramatica, which shared NOT A LITTLE of its sensibility with FYAD, still hosts a surprisingly helpful description of the site. The first half is an old FYAD in-joke:

FYAD is the cool place to hang out when compared to your parent’s basement. You can find most of the cool people there. In FYAD you can just chill and do whatever and totally relax. “Take it easy” is the FYAD motto, for example, that’s how laid back it is there. Show up if you want to have a good time.
 …
It is however very hard to post in FYAD as most of the time you would be told to get out or accused of being a Re-Reg if you just registered. however, you need to be accepted to post in FYAD so it is basically the cool kids club. Look at FYAD this way, it is that group of cools guys at your school all walking around joking having a good time, FYAD are those cool guys, and you’re not one of them.

If you weren’t aware of FYAD, it was mostly invisible, nested within a paid forum and presented in the most chaotic way possible; if you were, you saw evidence of its influence wherever you looked online. (This is how the internet looks from ANY online community — like a giant ripoff — but Something Awful was large enough that it may have been true. I’ll even give it credit for the manic, eye-rolly, stream-of-consciousness tone that came to define Tumblr.)

Something Awful, which is based in a strip mall in Missouri, has stubbornly aligned itself against mainstream success for 15 years. FYAD was the ultimate expression of this ethos: It was insular and cruel, a cluster of arch young men, only about half of whom were joking about their misanthropy and homophobia and sexism. Unlike 4chan, its successor, it was concerned with identity and reputation; its hazing and bullying were directed inward as often as outward. We call all of these things trolling now, which is suffocating: Some of this stuff was knowing and clever, some of it was hateful. FYAD was a place where mental illness could flourish alongside performative irony without the slightest hint of a difference.

FYAD posts were short, image-heavy, and leaned heavily on context. The forum front page was a pink, broken cascade that was intentionally hard to follow, populated by users with tens of thousands of posts in their histories. So what happened over the next few years shouldn’t have been much of a surprise.

A former FYAD poster explains:

It was just layer upon layer of irony. Yeah, a lot of people on Twitter got their voices in FYAD but FYAD isn’t like Twitter at all. It’s basically just all inside jokes that you could only get if you were around for a long time or have way too much time on your hands. Slowly everyone funny moved onto Twitter and I dont think anyone really posts in FYAD anymore.

Today, exiled FYAD users are joking about “transcending” to Twitter. Poster ann frank fanfic wrote today: “guess its time to see yall on twitter! finally! twitter won!”

There are rumors about the reason for the shutdown (a lawsuit, possibly! but probably something much less interesting), and the site’s operators haven’t said much. For now, at least, its remaining users will have to move to another forum, as many already have — FYAD’s old URL redirects to a new section, where hundreds of users are trying to figure out what happened, and where they may just stay and rebuild and pretend as if nothing happened in the first place. Or it might reappear! Maybe it was all just another joke. But it won’t matter: ex-posters on Twitter have laid their old forum to rest in an impromptu memorial. Their FYAD has been dead for years.

★★★★ The air was almost not chilly. Contrails were forming and persisting all across a blue sky scantly peppered with tiny white puffs. Someone’s new button-front shirts peeked out the top of a white paper shopping bag; a whiff of cut grass or some other damaged greener came by. On the fire escape, outside the cold dark office afternoon, it was warm in the sun, refreshing despite the old-cigarette smell. Little by little, the sky silvered over.

Have you met NOT ALL MEN? I’m sure you have! If you read a news story that mentions gender and then scroll to the comments, you will meet NOT ALL MEN. If you mention sexism on Reddit, you will meet NOT ALL MEN. If you post material that remotely relates to social justice or activism on your Facebook or Twitter, you will not only meet NOT ALL MEN but find yourself in a disorienting argument with them.

Not all men shout NOT ALL MEN, but ALMOST ALL MEN have at least thought: NOT ALL MEN. Jess Zimmerman explains:

“Not all men” also differs from “what about the men?” and other classic derails because it acknowledges that rape, sexism, and misogyny are real issues — just not, you know, real issues that the speaker is involved with in any way. The “not all men” man, at least in some cases, agrees with you and is perfectly willing to talk about how terrible those other guys are, just as soon as we get done establishing that he himself would never be such a cad. It’s infuriating and unhelpful, but in a way it represents a weird kind of progress.

NOT ALL MEN men are currently concerned mostly with establishing themselves as allies. But it was not always so. NOT ALL MEN have been doing things for years. Decades. Centuries. And all kinds of things! What have NOT ALL MEN been up to? What were NOT ALL MEN like in the old days? NOT ALL MEN were quieter about their whereabouts, certainly, but they weren’t silent.

1863:

Not all men are sentimental, and even of those so tinged, the impression rarely dominates the entire life

1910:

1918:

Not all men linger in the rum palace through innate depravity.

1971:

Menstruation has been the subject of universal taboos, and birth itself has been felt to be unclean. Obviously, not all men have felt these things and fewer feel them consciously now.

1981:

Not all men who return from war give up hunting.

1985:

See? Men are wearing hats. No, not all of them, and not all men nowadays wear mustaches, either — but a lot do, enough so we can call this the age of the mustache, just as we could have called the 1930’s the age of the hat.

1988:

Men lose their hair. Not all men, but enough to shift the balance of power in the aging race.

1993:

Susan Estrich, who teaches sex discrimination law at the University of Southern California, said men were usually more reluctant than women to come forward with claims of sexual harassment. “Traditionally, our imagery is that men should enjoy this and should consider themselves lucky,” Professor Estrich said. “The reality is that not all men do enjoy this.”

1995:

Not all women marched with the suffragists and not all men hollered against them.

1999:

Re Maureen Dowd’s ‘’Cowboy Feminism’’ (column, April 11):

What strikes me most about the attitudes of some of the people mentioned in the column is the monolithic way in which people see both men and women.

Certainly, not all men ‘’choose a mate based on animal attraction,’’ and not all women do so based on ‘’intellectual compatibility.’’

2000:

Not all men will feel comfortable with the tight dress pants and the square jackets, especially in stiff techno gabardines or polyamides.

2001:

Scribbling furiously, I muttered something about all the losers I’d encountered.

‘’Not all men out there are jerks,’’ he soothed. ‘’There are lots of wonderful people like you who are trying to connect with somebody.’’

2009:

Not all men love the scent of leather.

What will NOT ALL MEN get up to next?

[Photo via aleashuhh]

You may find this difficult to conceive, but not everything stays the same — particularly in a large metropolis over the course of 2,500 days.

Journalist David Wolman, author of The End Of Money, is trying something: A digitally self-published nonfiction collection that takes place all over the world. Writers rarely get the chance to assemble their favorite work. Why shouldn’t we/you/they/I do it ourselves?

Godlike genius Luke Haines has a forthcoming “’micro-opera’ thing with visuals… about Mark E. Smith of The Fall going on a caravan holiday” among other projects.

The norovirus and various other lesser but still debilitating stomach-oriented bugs are making the spring rounds — “Rhode Island Wedding Results in 74 Norovirus Victims”! — including possibly around the edges of our office. I recently missed four days of work — really my first stretch of sick time in five years. I did, basically, think that I was going to die. There were some dark nights of solemn contemplation of life, and if it was worth living. I also got a great head start on my swimsuit season weight loss, so boo-yah! Also I can eat again now.

And I did it all without barfing. I have only barfed twice in the last 25 years. (Have I just jinxed myself? Oh well, so be it.) As a very happy emetophobe, here are my secrets.

• Compulsive hand-washing is the greatest thing. Do you wash your hands upon entering the office, leaving the office, entering your home, leaving your home? And whenever other opportunities present themselves? Do you never touch doors and subway poles? Congratulations, you’re way ahead of the game.

• Don’t get on cruise ships. I mean, this goes without saying.

• Barfing in subway station trashcans is totally legit. People will scurry away from you, but so what? This is New York City, everyone has seen worse. Barf on the street or on a subway platform with pride!

But. Barfing on subways is not good for anyone. When I had to leave the office the other week, I had to wait for three trains, because it wasn’t till the third that there were old-school unlocked train doors between cars. No, you shouldn’t ride between the cars ever. But if you’re not sure you’re going to make it home, I suppose the least humiliating thing to do is risk your life by briefly stepping out to puke between cars. (Please don’t die though!) Your other good option is plastic deli bag. :/

• Most people tend to get home and nest in a sickbed and pass out. This is incorrect. First you have to begin treatment.

Since some mysterious conspiracy halted the production of Maalox a few years ago (why!), your answer is a multi-cocktail. GO BIG. You’d be surprised how much of this stuff you can take without poisoning yourself in a new way! (Yes, do use as directed.) Sure, the thing is, you’ll maybe feel a little better sooner if you barf. But, if you play your cards right, you actually don’t have to. This is about as good as a cocktail gets, without going to the hospital for Anzemet or Zofran. Take, rest, hydrate, repeat. You will feel like garbage. If you smoke, keep smoking through it. Honestly, weed probably helps too, I wouldn’t know.

Another pro tip: antihistamines are also used as anti-nausea drugs. Is your Pepto not cutting it? Add a Benadryl! (Let’s note again that I’m not a doctor and this is not medical advice.) Bonus to that is you’ll also pass out for four hours probably too.

• Goodbye coffee, goodbye dairy, goodbye all fun things. At some point you may try to eat any of the following, one bite at a time:

* white toast with the crusts cut off.
* saltines.
* nope, that’s about it.

Plus, of course, lots of seltzer or flat water as your body dictates. (I like mine room temperature!)

• Around now, you will be tempted to barf a lot. KEEP FOCUS. Pour some Pepto into that. Listen to your body, and then DO THE OPPOSITE.

• At some point, a day or two later, you may consider rice, applesauce or bananas. You will likely have watched a LOT OF TV by then.

• Around about day three, you should have a spoonful of good yogurt or a probiotic pill. Soon after that, weak black tea, without sugar. At some point, you will start tapering off the over-the-counters.

• Suddenly, one day, you will feel like a new person. Coffee and chocolate are the two last things that can be restored to your diet. Cheese is like, the antepenultimate thing, right after things like lettuce or bran. Usually that’s five to seven days after onset of illness. By then you’ll be eating plain pasta, butter on your toast, maybe even a non-bitter fruit if you’re feeling kinda scurvy-ridden. Cream of Wheat! Never forget the joys of Cream of Wheat.

Together, we can end barfing. Let’s hold hands. And then wash them furiously in scalding water.

Photo by “abbamouse.”

This is so great that the only thing I will say about is “headphones on if you’re at work.” Once you’ve attended to that, click play for four minutes of unrestrained awesome. [Via]

by Brendan O’Connor

The Slits’ cover of “Heard It Through The Grapevine” (a B-side, obviously) played over the speakers at Kim’s Video & Music on 1st Avenue as a half-dozen early-afternoon browsers flipped through the vinyl. The ceiling, bifurcated into orange and purple halves shot through with yellow, hangs low, compressing the sound into a thick haze. “We don’t really carry a lot of metal?” Julianne, one of the two college-aged clerks, told a patron who asked if Kim’s carried the band Death’s earlier stuff. “That’s the only Death we have,” gesturing toward the new release sections. Julianne, who is graduating from NYU in a few weeks, has been working at Kim’s since the summer of 2012. “I spent all this time here and decided I might as well get paid,” she told me. But Kim’s is closing, and Julianne will have to find someplace else to slouch.

“We are NOT closing because record stores are dying, business is bad, it’s not like it used to be and oh terrible world,” owner Yongman Kim wrote in an email to subscribers of his New Music Newsletter. (This is true enough: While megastores like Tower and Virgin Records have been forced to close permanently, independent record stores have managed to stay afloat, buoyed by the much-celebrated resurgence in interest in vinyl.) “The lease is up in July and the rent is being raised to an amount we simply can’t work with.” The new rent at 124 First Ave., according to broker Jane Pollard, will be $16,500 a month for approximately 1,820 square feet and a basement office — market rate for retail East Village real estate, but too much for Kim’s. Mr. Kim was in the basement when I visited. “We are hopeful that a new Kim’s can be erected this summer,” he wrote in his email, “(likely at a smaller location).”

Kim, a Korean immigrant, began renting videos out of his dry-cleaning business on Avenue A in 1986. A year later, he and Matt Marello, a film buff from the neighborhood, opened a stand-alone store at 37 St. Mark’s Place. By 1995, they had outgrown the space, and moved to
6 St. Mark’s Place

. Over the next fourteen years, “Mondo Kim’s” would come to take up most of the five-story building. At the height of its cultural influence and commercial success, Kim’s stretched across four locations, from Alphabet City to Columbia University. In the late nineties, more than 200,000 people were listed in the business’ database, and his employees were legendarily knowledgeable and haughty. “We went against every business model that says, ‘The customer is always right,’” Marello told the New York Times when the Avenue A store closed in 2004. “But I think in the end, people sort of liked the grungy East Village thing.” Two years later, in 2006, Kim’s Bleecker Street location became a Duane Reade; the Morningside Heights location closed in 2008; Mondo Kim’s closed shortly thereafter, donating its entire rental collection of some 55,000 DVDs and VHS tapes to the town of Salemi, Italy, and relocating to the smaller First Ave. store a few blocks away in 2009.

Kim’s current manager, Kenny, has worked at the First Ave. location since it opened. He told me that the shop will be stocked with new releases until it closes two months from now. (When I visited, they were sold out of Sonic Youth, The Stooges, and Lou Reed vinyl.) Kim’s hasn’t stopped buying used material from patrons, either. I watched a customer haggle with Julianne over a used DVD; he wanted to get rid of it because it was scratched, but he wasn’t happy with the offered payment. “Would you keep it?” he asked me. I looked at the disc. It was probably the first time I’ve looked so closely at a CD/DVD in years; it looked more smudged than anything. “I would keep it,” I told him. “Same,” said Julianne.

Kenny hasn’t been briefed yet on what’s going to happen next. I asked what he’d do if he was out of a job. “I don’t know, man,” he said. “Watch a lot of movies, probably.”

“Cry,” said one of the girls.

You should open up your own shop, I suggested.

“Kenny’s!” both girls shouted.

“We already work at Kenny’s,” said Julianne. “But don’t tell Mr. Kim that.”

Brendan O’Connor is a reporter in New York.

Correction: The first sentence of this story originally stated that Kim’s was on Avenue A, not on 1st Avenue, because of a dumb editing error.