The Internet, which began as the inspiration and implementation of technical wizards, has apparently ended up as the playground of advertising wizards. Witness the incessant publicity about such Internet prodigies as Google Adwords. And wherever can you click that an ad doesn’t flash at you, featuring one beast or another, from a barrel of monkeys to a cobra, or glitteraty type –- all in an energetic effort to call your attention to everything from low mortgage rates to cures for erectile dysfunction.
Our own unassuming site is hardly innocent of colorful calculations intended to cajole you into opening your wallet for one irresistible offer or another.
But then that’s the way it is with most things. The begin in brilliance and end up as a business, even when it comes to hocking the volumes that embody the greatest intellectual achievement of the human race.
The descent into pecuniary hustings grows out of the inevitable need for anybody who makes or just prints anything to tell us about it so we might consider purchasing it.
The practice goes back a long way. For instance, remember the village smithy? Even he thought to hang out a sign that said something like, “Horseshoes Made, Saddles Mended.”
The most we frazzled recipients of all the advertising hootenanny can do is hope for occasions when the attempt to extract our funds is done with taste and, when inspiration allows, imagination that invites us to attend.