First, read this post:
I responded with a comment, mostly because of this line:
The only feeds that aren't also available in RSS are two very marginal ones, that rarely update and mostly are irritating, not informative.which I thought was rather obnoxious, given that there are (estimate) hundreds of thousands of Blogspot-hosted weblogs that are only available as Atom feeds, hence, any aggregator that doesn't read them is (potentially?) (certainly!) missing a ton of interesting content, particularly since the sort of people using Blogspot are quite often newer bloggers, people outside the usual a-list mutual admiration society.
I can't actually reproduce what I wrote, since apparently I crossed some invisible line in the sand when I pointed out how this is the sort of thing that probably would cost Userland customers, and that it was better to be pragmatic on this issue instead of religious. My post was deleted, along with a note (also since deleted) from Dave Winer about "deleting posts from the usual flamebaiters." (paraphrase, obviously)
My own comment policy is that I only ever delete obvious spam and crapfloods. The idea of deleting a post just because it doesn't sync with my rosy view of the world seems, I don't know, small, like my little ideas are so fragile that they can't stand an ounce of sunlight or a faint whiff of disagreement.
There are places like that in the blogosphere, and I'm happy not to run one of them. It must truly suck to be that way, like a raw, exposed nerve that screams and shrinks at the slightest rough contact. It's nice to know that as long as I've got my own server, I've got my own little square of ground no one can fence off, or retcon out of existence.
Mr. Winer, you're welcome to post here.
A pickup with three guys in it pulls into the lumber yard. One of the men
gets out and goes into the office.
“I need some four-by-two’s,” he says.
“You must mean two-by-four’s” replies the clerk.
The man scratches his head. “Wait a minute,” he says, “I’ll go
Back, after an animated conversation with the other occupants of the
truck, he reassures the clerk, that, yes, in fact, two-by-fours would be
“OK,” says the clerk, writing it down, “how long you want ‘em?”
The guy gets the blank look again. “Uh… I guess I better go
check,” he says.
He goes back out to the truck, and there’s another animated
conversation. The guy comes back into the office. “A long time,” he says,
“we’re building a house”.