Harry Veeder wrote: >>> I >>> have told him a million times that if he supplies the paper in text Acrobat >>> format, I will upload it as is, without changing a single comma. > >What about text as images in Acrobat?
That is what I call image Acrobat. I am not sure of the correct terminology. Anyway, I discussed the problems with that at the beginning of this thread, such as the fact that Google cannot index this format, and people with disabilities (including me) cannot easily read it. Some disabled people cannot read it at all. For example, blind people who depend on text-to-voice or Braille readers. It is also a nuisance for people who speak English as a second language, which is roughly half of our readers. There are many technical reasons for selecting text Acrobat format, and I cannot think of a single good reason to use any other format. I cannot imagine why Swartz opposes the use of this format. I note that all of the papers on his website are in this format, so evidently he wants use the image format for his own papers only -- God only knowns why. Many years ago a few people tried to use image text files to prevent people from easily copying and circulating their papers. Perhaps this is what is driving Swartz? An image file can be circulated as easily as any, and OCR programs are common, so it can easily be converted to text, so this is a futile waste of time. I once saw the ultimate expression of this: an image file of text posted by a physicist that vanished from sight as soon as you tried to copy or download it, and then gradually reappeared. The author could not decide whether he did or did not want others to read his paper. Many cold fusion researchers are like this: they are torn between the desire to keep their results secret and the hunger to cash in on the fame and money that they feel the world owes them for their great discovery. They dither for years, usually until they die and take whatever it is they discovered to the grave. This back-and-forth, can't make up your mind attitude reminds of a ditty my father use to repeat, redolent of the turn of the 20th century: "Mother, mother, may I go in for a swim? Yes, my darling daughter. Hang your clothes on the hickory bush, But don't go near the water!" - Jed
