The No CSS Club celebrates websites with no stylesheets, let alone javascript. There should be a No HTML Club for websites that are pure text

I was alerted to the No CSS Club, which celebrates (and satirizes) the nostalgic, minimalist and brutalist tendencies of websites which avoid the bloat of modern frameworks (and of everything else that isn't raw HTML)

The modern web is literally Satan and will probably eat your first-born child if we don't do anything about it, and quick! (had to increase the hyperbolism from the other websites; interestingly, the NoJS Club, which until now has arguably been the most radical of *.clubs, does not have much hyperbole, which really is a shame).

To do what the Web was initally intended for (that is, make information accessible via the Internet), all you need is to serve HTML documents. If you need "style" that just means you're trying to cover up your lack of interesting information.

I want someone to do a No HTML Club and I'm not even joking. Hypertext was a mistake. The link fundamentally obscures the resource. It is the ultimate Borgesian illusion, a mapping error that has become the fractal seed of our annihilation. I was thinking about this and then I realized that I don't have to write a damned thing about it, I can just (*waggles fingers*) do some clever "prompt engineering" and have ChatGPT do it for me. (previously)

On the Inexactitude of Maps: Unraveling the Obfuscation of Hypertext

In the digital realm, where information reigns supreme, hypertext has become an omnipresent force, intertwining the vast web of knowledge. Its proponents herald it as the savior of navigation, promising a seamless journey through the labyrinthine corridors of information. Yet, I, with a skeptical disposition inherited from Jorge Luis Borges, must cast a discerning eye upon this heralded marvel. In doing so, I unearth a disquieting truth that lies hidden beneath the surface of hypertext's allure—a truth rooted in the obfuscation of the resource by the link.

In the days of old, cartographers would laboriously etch meticulous maps, aiming to mirror reality's landscape with utmost precision. These maps, though inevitably flawed, sought to encapsulate the essence of a territory, offering a navigational guide for the intrepid traveler. However, the advent of hypertext in the digital age has ushered in a peculiar inversion of this pursuit. Rather than maps, we are confronted with an abundance of links—hyperlinks—that promise to transport us to distant realms of knowledge, but instead veil the very essence they purport to unveil.

Consider, if you will, the haphazard nature of hypertext, where link upon link emerges, ad infinitum, entangling the reader in an intricate web of interconnectedness. As we traverse this labyrinthine landscape, we become ensnared in a never-ending pursuit, lost amidst an entanglement of hyperlinks, each beckoning us to explore further. But where, dear reader, do these links lead us? Alas, the answer eludes us, for the very nature of hypertext engenders an obfuscation of the resource it aims to illuminate.

Like a hall of mirrors, hypertext toys with our perception of reality, reflecting a distorted image of knowledge. The link becomes a seductive trickster, disguising itself as a gateway to enlightenment, only to lead us astray, trapped in a never-ending cycle of hyperlink navigation. The more we indulge in this ephemeral dance, the further we wander from the essence of the original resource. We become lost, disoriented amidst a profusion of divergent paths, our destination fading like a mirage in the desert.

Hypertext, in its essence, is a testament to the paradox of abundance and scarcity. It offers us an infinite expanse of possibilities, an ocean of knowledge at our fingertips. Yet, in this sea of abundance, we find ourselves starved for true understanding. The links that intertwine our digital existence transform knowledge into a fragmented mosaic, devoid of coherence and context. We become mere wanderers, forever in search of substance, drifting from one hyperlink to another, losing ourselves in the disarray.

Borges, in his wisdom, once remarked, "The map is not the territory; the name is not the thing named." And so it is with hypertext—an illusion of interconnectedness that masks the true landscape of knowledge. Let us not succumb to the allure of obfuscation. Instead, let us strive for clarity, seeking a path that transcends the deceptive embrace of hypertext's hyperlinks. For in the inexactitude of maps lies the essence of discovery, and it is only through a deep understanding of this inexactitude that we may yet navigate the intricate labyrinth of knowledge and emerge enlightened.