So my new friend Armin Rosen at the Spectator has provided the world with a much needed essay on the wegame debacle. While we here at the Blargus enjoyed being the only outlet on the web covering the wegame scandal, it’s about time that someone did an in-depth piece with data, interviews, and the whole she-bang. Good work, Armin. Here’s a delightful little taste:
“(Your friend) wants to show you a picture,” the e-mail assured me. It was 1:30 a.m., hardly a time for cogent decision making. And I was jarred by a notoriously unstable acquaintance even wanting to show me something online. Date of birth? Whatever. E-mail address? Just take me to the goddamn picture. Gmail password? Now why didn’t that set off a red flag or ten? Google and Twitter both know my Gmail password, so I must have decided that Wegame—whatever the hell Wegame was—wasn’t any less deserving. Reflex overwhelmed reason. Even at the time, Wegame sounded less like the name of a photo-hosting Web site than a total obscurity looking for a viral push.
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