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Editorial: I Don’t Understand the Internet and Neither Should You

There has been unprecedented pressure placed on good, honest media outlets of late to conform to the bedevilled conventions of the Internet. It will come as little surprise to the loyal reader to hear that The Garter will not cave to the surmounting threat of the new and exciting. The Garter board of directors is…

There has been unprecedented pressure placed on good, honest media outlets of late to conform to the bedevilled conventions of the Internet.

It will come as little surprise to the loyal reader to hear that The Garter will not cave to the surmounting threat of the new and exciting.

The Garter board of directors is insistent that we develop our “reach” on “Facebook” and “Youtube” with “content”, to them, I say, you had best be fire-proof! (the threat is figurative, of course, for the weak-willed inclined to cry out, “bad taste!”).

Over the next few weeks you may notice a noble establishment, brought to its knees and eyes gaunt, succumbing to those who manage the new media. A “page” will inevitably emerge, and we will begin the dizzying, rockstar ascent to best loved publication on the whole of Internet.

But for what? For “traction”, they claim.

Know that the ethical direction of this paper has always been and will always be the utmost imperative of an editorial army under my command.

There is no promise I take more seriously than The Garter’s commitment to a floundering, regal, beautiful, arcane form. Let no change pass unless it must. But when it does, let us slash and hack at its vulnerable, soft underbelly and ensure the passage is a tumultuous as the would-be-changes of old. It seems we must begin to make the slightest concessions.

How will things change? Only the brainiest science nerds could possibly speculate. But as we breach the fourth dimension, and wade into this terrifying, binary world, we will remain a stalwart, broadsheet institution that loves things like words, and our readers, above all.

Quality shall never falter.

I remain your humble, armed, servant,
Amanda Huntingslow

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