Clicking a link in today's Tweetstream led me to the virtual doorstep of Forbes.com, who promptly inserted an ad between me and the intended article. Granted, Forbes offered the customary courtesy of providing a link to close the "welcome screen." But it's not the ad that bugged me--nor even its insertion. (Forbes is a publication after all, one which--unlike Consumer Reports and Cook's Illustrated--doesn't consider its priorities compromised by taking advertising dollars.)
No, it's the new-speak of "welcome screen" that I thought almost insultingly lame. Could you imagine putting an ad on your "welcome mat"? How about hacking your doorbell to blare a jingle at the front step before it rings inside the house? No one would consider that "welcoming" behavior in the real world; why is the online world allowed to abuse the terminology? You're no more a "guest" on that sort of website than if someone invited you over just so they can try to hook you up with their roommate. Let's face it: there's always an "eeeeww" factor there, no matter how hawt the roommate is. Or, for that matter, how useful the article turns out to be.
Thoughts on computers, companies, and the equally puzzling humans who interact with them