Do you consider RM to be social media?

[BurtReynolds]

Social media is something I usually do on the toilet, and so is RM. so they are the same.

thus both are shit.

[tree_]

If different, which is better?

RM feels like a private country club of idiots while everyone else on the universe is on facebook. If i posted on FB like I do here my wife would divorce me

[Ello Sailor]

[spike]

If different, which is better?

RM feels like a private country club of idiots while everyone else on the universe is on facebook. If i posted on FB like I do here my wife would divorce me

I think this distills the difference quite eloquently.

[Strat]

It's accurate but doesnt mean RM isn't social media. It's just not facebook.

RM is social media. We all post, wait for sailor or Jorge to respond and give us that dopamine hit. We all try to post something funny, sometimes engaging, but mostly just all wagging our own dicks.

[tree_]

it feels good to be seen, and to show sides of our penises we hide from the rest of the world

[Anders]

What if RM was as popular as facebook is, and facebook was as small as RM is?

[Strat]

What if RM was as popular as facebook is, and facebook was as small as RM is?

if pearl jam never fired Dave A we very well could have lived in that world.

[tree_]

What if RM was as popular as facebook is, and facebook was as small as RM is?

if pearl jam never fired Dave A we very well could have lived in that world.

why would that have killed facebook?

[BurtReynolds]

ironically, Facebook has plenty of safety features to ensure privacy, while RM is totally public, and you can't even delete your own posts!

[spike]

Not enough boomers on RM to begin to compare it to Facebook.

[lennytheweedwhacker]

I think a big difference is how the content is prioritized and shown to users; social media as we know it today is largely driven by algorithms that prioritize engagement, whereas forums like RM are remnants of an older era of the internet, when structured, threaded discussions were simply shown in chronological order. Also there's less emphasis on individual user profiles (sure, you can have an avatar and a signature, but I can't go to your profile to look at your photo collection or read in-depth, carefully curated information about your background).

Social media also supports a wider variety of content types and they are usually self-hosted (photos, videos, livestreams) whereas here we have mostly text-based interactions and if we wanna post photos we have to rely on external services through BBCode (which is basically a crude variation on HTML, placing message boards like RM solidly in Web 1.0).

Well said I mean typed

[96583UP]

What if RM was as popular as facebook is, and facebook was as small as RM is?

if pearl jam never fired Dave A we very well could have lived in that world.

[Ms Harmless]

A lot of the residents of rm of late seem to have been infected with the far right culture wars brainworms

Dunno if it’s social media but it’s sad to see rm slide into the shit like this.

yup

[Ello Sailor]

Personality disorder Avengers are out here to combat them at least.

[spike]

A lot of the residents of rm of late seem to have been infected with the far right culture wars brainworms

Dunno if it’s social media but it’s sad to see rm slide into the shit like this.

yup

Not sure I’d say a lot. Bi, schoolboy, bammer, and trag.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[spike]

lol I tagged you on the end strictly for the lulz

that went dark quick tho

[E.H. Ruddock]

We just bought an EV but not a Tesla. Please don’t yell at me