The gravy train now standing at Platform 5 is the 8.15 to Listicle Central, calling at Content Churn, Clickbait, Minimal Research, SEO Junction, and Content Solutions.
Yaay…there are a couple of jobs going at Bicycling magazine, news I almost missed on account of my brain now being programmed to ignore any Tweet coming from Bicycling. Indeed, the only reason I noticed it because it wasn’t pointing out new and innovative ways in which my bicycle is trying to kill me.
Not having visited the Bicycling website for a while (about three years) I went and had a look to see what it is like these days. And it’s pretty much like this:
Or, to put it in layman’s terms: it’s vacuous shite. It’s hard to believe, but the entire site seems to be populated with this sort of bollocks. I read recently that 20% of American male cyclists have some kind of eating disorder…reading crap like this isn’t going to help, that’s for sure.
And if Bicycling isn’t obsessing about food, then it’s ways in which your bicycle (or someone else) is trying to kill you.
But it’s not all bad news, because Bicycling is also obsessed with cycling dogs…
And lycra leg-overs…
Oh dear. It’s a bit like the MailOnline…there’s a kind of awful curiosity that lures you in and before you know it you’ve wasted half an hour in the Sidebar of Shame. And afterwards you feel like you need a shower.
I blame Lance Armstrong. Until he fessed up to cheating, Bicycling (and Bill Strickland) was pretty much the cheerleader for all things Armstrong, featuring endless be-like-Lance articles. It was pretty nauseating stuff, but at least it felt a bit more substantial than 10 Reasons Your Bike Hates You, and What Your Wife is REALLY Doing While You’re Spelunking in Your Pain Cave!
So if you want a job churning out endless hysterical listicles involving cycling dogs and injuries, Bicycling is the place to apply. I’ve had a sneek-peek at the application form, and I would advise you to prepare an article of not more than 150 words about a couple who ruptured their medial cruciate knee ligaments while preparing a super-food recovery smoothie when a cycling dog rode through their kitchen on a gravel-grinder (dogs struggle to use hydraulic discs due to their their lack of an opposable digit…there was bound to be an accident).
I was going to bang on about the awfulness of Bicycling’s website, and the general crapitude that surrounds the web, but then the latest issue of Rouleur landed on the doormat. So instead I am retiring to my day-bed where I shall read about Ullrich, Spartacus and the Tour de San Luis.