I don't see anywhere where contempt is shown, in fact quite the opposite. The post is written in a very empathetic way in my opinion, and I think displays a good level of insight into, and understanding of, the attractiveness of things that can do harm.
I'd challenge you to entertain the idea that this post has some good advice, and follow some of it. I have no data, but I expect you'll be happier as a result.
> I'd challenge you to entertain the idea that this post has some good advice, and follow some of it. I have no data, but I expect you'll be happier as a result.
Personally, I don't fit any of the implied criteria for "terminal onlineness," so your challenge isn't possible. You don't merely lack data, you lack a valid reason for assuming this advice applies to me or any other person whose habits you know nothing about. I recommend you entertain the idea that neither righteousness in your conviction nor confidence in your words transform your assumptions and personal experiences into broadly applicable maxims.
Even if this advice addresses problems you, personally, struggle with, that's not necessarily true for everybody. I know brilliant, happy, well-adjusted people, like my wife, who engage in behavior this author deems undesirable. It's just not that cut and dried. Perhaps the author's conclusions suffer from sampling bias? Regardless, I will still skip the rest of their blog entries.
In contrast, I'd be interested in reading something on the same topic that was presented in a subjective way, where the author isn't hiding their personal relationship to the topic. For example, "I was terminally online and here's why and how I changed". Or "my friend was terminally online and I like that they stopped". Or even "here's why I am frustrated dealing with terminally online people".
But for me, the pseudo-expert advice from somebody with no obvious expertise and no claim of it leaves me cold. I don't understand why I should care what they think, or why I should trust them.