NetWorld! What People Are Really Doing on the Internet and What It Means to YouRothman, David H.
General
NetWorld! What People Are Really Doing on the Internet and What It Means to You
Rothman, David H.
Internet
The sports area was the baby of a bearded, forty-something editor named
Eric Harris who had turned into a Nethead, and who like Schlukbier came
with a nickname: “Zonker.” A child, seeing the beard and taking in the
personality, had compared him to the Doonesbury character. That was a
little unfair. Zonker of the comics is a goof-off, while Zonker of the
Net is a workaholic whose messages might bear 4 A.M. time stamps. Harris
is Webmaster—the man with the daily responsibility for the content of
the Web area in general—but his true love was sports. He packed the
server with game schedules. During the ’94 baseball strike the _N & O_
indulged fans with whimsy such as “Cybersox Take the World
Series”—reportage of mythical games. “Need something to do while we wait
for the owners and players to resolve their differences?” the Web area
asked on another electronic page. “Well, the Baseball Server is doing
its part. Download the above images, tack them onto the wall, and buy a
set of darts. Then, every time you feel a twinge of baseball withdrawal,
grab a dart, think a ‘warm’ thought about one of the participants, and
let the fun begin.” And sure enough, Netfolks could print out pictures
of the villains, each of whom had a superimposed picture of a dartboard
and the wonderful caption: “The only losers are the fans.”
The _N & O_ also shared with the Net a variety of other material, of
which my favorite was North Carolina Discoveries. A lively feature
writer named Julie Ann Powers sought out offbeat places. In Lake Norman,
for example, she found that “houses and hangars ring the airstrip and
each lot comes with a grass taxiway to the paved and lighted runway.” In
Orient, a hamburger-and-hot-dog cook named Red Lee claimed that at
twenty-five cents each, his offerings were the cheapest in the country.
And in Tryon, the publishers of the _Daily Bulletin_ said that at 8 by
11 inches, their newspaper might be the smallest in the world. Powers
drove from town to town in a Ford Explorer that she had nicknamed
Barlowe after Arthur Barlowe—one of the first Europeans to behold the
state of North Carolina. Barlowe was a gadgeteer’s heaven on wheels,
full of audio and video equipment. People on the Web didn’t just enjoy
gloriously descriptive stories from Powers: with Mosaic-style software
they could _see_ a picture of her wearing a sun hat on a beach or gaze
at sand dunes or waterfalls or whatever she happened to be writing about
at the time. If they owned a sound card, they could _hear_, too. She
walked around carrying a microphone so large that it resembled a
folded-up umbrella.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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