You know that moment. You open your favorite app, and there it is — a banner, a pre-roll, a sponsored post wedged into your feed. Your jaw tightens. You feel betrayed. That software used to be pure. Now it’s gone the way of every other platform: enshittified.
But here’s the part nobody wants to admit. The person who ranted loudest about this betrayal? The blogger who wrote that viral takedown of Apple’s ad creep? He runs his own ad-supported site. And last week, he asked his readers to make an exception for him.
The most vocal critics of enshittification are the ones who need your ad revenue the most.
I’m talking about the Daring Fireball crowd. John Gruber, the guy who compared ads in software to stickers on a laptop — a cheap, tacky degradation of a once-beautiful tool. He’s not wrong about the feeling. But he is wrong about the finger-pointing. Because right before that post, he published a plea: please don’t block ads on my site. He literally asked for an exception to the very practice he decries.
And that’s the twist. Purity in software design is a luxury. A luxury reserved for those who don’t need the money. The moment your livelihood depends on a platform, you make a deal with the devil. You start rationalizing. “My ads are different,” you tell yourself. “They’re tasteful. They’re small. They’re essential.” And suddenly you’re the very thing you swore to destroy.
We’ve all been there. You’ve probably caught yourself saying, “I hate ads, but I’ll allow this one creator’s because I like their content.” That’s the hypocrisy we’re all swimming in. It’s not a moral failing — it’s an economic one. The system is built so that anyone who builds something users love eventually has to monetize it, and the easiest, most scalable path is ads. It’s not malice. It’s gravity.
You can’t hate the game when you’re the one selling the tickets.
The real story here isn’t about Apple, or Google, or any specific company. It’s about the uncomfortable truth that everyone who builds software for a living is one revenue shortfall away from sticking a banner on your screen. Including the critics. Including the ones who write the manifestos. Including you, if you ever launch a product.
So what do we do? Stop pretending there’s a moral high ground. Start acknowledging that the line between “good” and “bad” ads is a line drawn in sand at high tide. And maybe, just maybe, start paying for the tools we love — or accept that the price of free is a little bit of your attention.
Because the next time you see a sticker on a laptop, remember: it’s not just a laptop. It’s a compromise. And sometimes, the person who sold you that sticker is the one who told you how ugly it was.
FAQ
Q: Isn't it okay to use ads if you're transparent about it?
A: Transparency helps, but it doesn't change the user experience. The problem isn't honesty — it's the unavoidable degradation of software when maximizing ad revenue becomes the primary design goal. Every ad, no matter how tasteful, is a trade-off between user experience and monetization.
Q: So what should users actually do about this?
A: Two options: pay for the software you value, or accept that free products come with ads. The worst response is to complain about ads while refusing to pay or block them — that just perpetuates the cycle. If you can't pay, at least be honest about the compromise.
Q: Isn't this article just an ad for ad-blocking or something?
A: No. It's a mirror. The point isn't to say ads are good or bad — it's to point out that the moral outrage is selective. Everyone draws their own line. The contrarian truth is that ads might be a necessary evil for innovation to survive, and pretending otherwise is just self-deception.