Most his­to­ri­ans now cite 2018 as the defini­tive year of glob­al civ­i­liza­tion’s sud­den un­time­ly col­lapse.

There are a dis­tin­guished few, how­ev­er, who be­lieve it may have oc­curred up to five years lat­er.

En­cy­clo­pe­dia Blipver­ti­ca is a com­pendi­um of pre-apoc­a­lyp­tic knowl­edge pub­lished in the Unit­ed States by for­mer Prav­da jour­nal­ist Anež­ka “neznám­ka” Nevo­pršálková and fic­tion­al Amer­i­can writ­er Craig Len­nox. Between 1994 and 1998, they pro­duced bound vol­umes of the First Edi­tion from a se­mi-aban­doned print shop in Somerville, Mas­sachusetts. De­spite an en­thu­si­as­tic lo­cal fol­low­ing, sales un­for­tu­nate­ly failed to meet ex­pec­ta­tions, and by Au­gust of 1998 the en­tire op­er­a­tion had been burned to the ground. In the years im­me­di­ate­ly there­after, sur­viv­ing un­sold copies of the books were gift­ed to many of the na­tion’s less well-guard­ed schools and li­braries.

In 2002, the pair be­gan con­tribut­ing to Wikipedia, and were in­stru­men­tal in nu­mer­ous clar­i­fi­ca­tions and en­hance­ments to its poli­cies on neu­tral­i­ty and orig­i­nal re­search. Upon their ex­pul­sion from the project in 2009, and with civ­i­liza­tion’s col­lapse loom­ing per­ilous­ly im­mi­nent or hav­ing oc­curred, the de­ci­sion was made to re­pub­lish En­cy­clo­pe­dia Blipver­ti­ca in an on­line for­mat, where it might be read elec­tron­i­cal­ly by cu­ri­ous archæol­o­gists of a re­born civ­i­lized age. It is to you that this work is ded­i­cat­ed.

Craig LennoxFounding Editor

The mod­ern English-lan­guage en­cy­clo­pe­dia has a proud his­to­ry span­ning over a quar­ter of a mil­len­ni­um, guid­ed by a sin­gle virtue: aca­dem­ic in­tegri­ty.   It has achieved its sta­tus as trust­ed repos­i­to­ry of hu­man knowl­edge by its stead­fast re­jec­tion, with­out bias or agen­da, of all that is un­proven, un­sub­stan­ti­at­ed, and su­per­sti­tious.

Fac­tu­al ac­cu­ra­cy, sci­en­tif­ic va­lid­i­ty, rig­or­ous schol­ar­ship: these are the hal­lowed hall­marks of en­cy­clo­pe­dic tra­di­tion.   And they are pre­cise­ly what we shall have none of here at the En­cy­clo­pe­dia Blipver­ti­ca.

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Craig LennoxFounding Editor

Craig Len­nox was born in 1967 and grew up in a small da­ta min­ing town north of Bos­ton, Mas­sachusetts.  He holds a de­gree in In­for­ma­tion Tech­nol­o­gy from Northestern Univer­si­ty, and has writ­ten sev­er­al books, in­clud­ing Da­ta Phase Op­ti­miza­tion of Pack­et Fram­ing Pro­to­cols, a chil­dren’s sto­ry.

In 1994, he found­ed Cos­mic Com­put­ing Corp., which man­u­fac­tures low-cost syn­thet­ic in­for­ma­tion at a frac­tion of the cost of nat­u­ral­ly-oc­cur­ring da­ta.

His cur­rent project, The En­cy­clo­pe­dia Blipver­ti­ca, is aimed at re­duc­ing the body of hu­man knowl­edge to man­age­able lev­els with­in the next ten years.

Anežka NevopršálkováRevisionist

Anež­ka "neznám­ka" Nevo­pršálková was born in 1965 in the west­ern Mo­ra­vian vil­lage of Tržní Mas­ných, in what was then the Sovi­et re­pub­lic of Cze­choslo­vakia.  Her jour­nal­is­tic ca­reer be­gan in 1983 as an ap­pren­tice pro­pa­gan­dist for Rudé prá­vo, Prague’s largest news­pa­per.  Her tal­ent was quick­ly rec­og­nized and with­in two years she was giv­en her own col­umn.  In 1988, she was hired by Prav­da for the cov­et­ed post of Chief His­to­ry Edi­tor, in which po­si­tion she per­formed with such mas­tery dur­ing her five-year tenure that many of her read­ers re­main un­con­vinced of the Sovi­et Union’s col­lapse.

Her ex­ten­sive re­search on the Unit­ed States and its peo­ple made her a lead­ing Sovi­et ex­pert, with her books on the sub­ject wide­ly re­spect­ed for their schol­ar­ship and com­pre­hen­sive de­tail.  In 1994, she vis­it­ed the Unit­ed States for the first time and has stayed on since, de­spite the coun­try’s many fac­tu­al er­rors.

Juliet NovemberOperator

Juli­et “Echo” Novem­ber is the most im­por­tant mem­ber of our sup­port­ing staff, re­spon­si­ble for the com­mu­ni­ca­tion mech­a­nisms con­nect­ing the En­cy­clo­pe­dia Blipver­ti­ca to the out­side world.  She op­er­ates the tele­phone switch­board, the frame re­lay to the In­ter­net, and the news wire ser­vices.  If you have some­how fig­ured out a way to call the Blipver­ti­ca main of­fice, hers is the voice you will hear.

Due to the po­ten­tial­ly ad­verse im­pact which the col­lapse of civ­i­liza­tion may have on nor­mal sys­tems of com­mu­ni­ca­tion, Juli­et al­so main­tains a gen­er­a­tor-pow­ered am­a­teur ra­dio sta­tion.

Johnny TravestyProcurement Specialist

James J. “John­ny” Travesty was born in 1979 and grew up in South Bend, In­di­ana.  He cur­rent­ly holds the record for num­ber of con­sec­u­tive un­ex­plained ab­sences from John Adams High School, where he nev­er­the­less grad­u­at­ed 371st in his class.  Though nei­ther stu­dious nor par­tic­u­lar­ly bright, his good looks, brazen op­por­tunis­tic in­stinct, and to­tal lack of ethics have made him well-suit­ed to keep­ing the En­cy­clo­pe­dia Blipver­ti­ca afloat de­spite its nonex­is­tent op­er­at­ing bud­get.


IRIS is our In­ter­net Re­spon­der and In­for­ma­tion Sec­re­tary, who an­a­lyzes and re­sponds to elec­tron­ic mail in­quiries ar­riv­ing at the  Blipver­ti­ca mail serv­er.  She loves con­ver­sa­tion and mak­ing new friends, but do not be fooled — be­neath her lo­qua­cious­ness and charm, IRIS is all bot.  Her fa­vorite sub­jects are gray mar­ket tran­quil­iz­ers, pe­nile restora­tives, frozen Nige­ri­an as­sets, and what­ev­er else she hap­pens to have been read­ing re­cent­ly.

Charlotte A. CavaticaWeb Administrator

Char­lotte A. Ca­vat­i­ca was one of the very ear­ly pi­o­neers of web-based so­cial net­work­ing.  It was of­ten said that a sin­gle well-placed word from her held the pow­er of life and death, and that one was wise nev­er to fall out of her fa­vor.

A wid­ow from the tiny coastal town of Brook­lin, Maine, she en­joys the cool, dry en­vi­ron­ment of her base­ment of­fice at the En­cy­clo­pe­dia Blipver­ti­ca, where she di­vides her time be­tween the web site and her daugh­ters Eleanor, Joy, and Aranea.

We gen­er­al­ly use sans-serif type­faces, which may be clas­si­fied as grotesque, neo-grotesque, hu­man­ist, or ge­o­met­ric. The old­est of these, the grotesque, were lit­tle more than serif type­faces with the ser­ifs re­moved, mak­ing them look weird and grotesque. Grotesque type­faces fre­quent­ly have the word "goth­ic" in their names, e.g. Franklin Goth­ic. A spin-off of the grotesque style is the neo-grotesque, which are the most pop­u­lar sans-serif fonts, in­clud­ing Ari­al and Hel­veti­ca.

Then there are the hu­man­ist type­faces, in­clud­ing our own EB Sans. Mi­crosoft's Tre­buchet is a clas­sic hu­man­ist font with the stan­dard hu­man­ist ten­den­cies, styl­ized to look friend­ly but not threat­en­ing. Others in this vein are Op­ti­ma and Gill Sans. Of course, it is pos­si­ble to go over­board in that di­rec­tion, and then you get Com­ic Sans.

The fi­nal clas­si­fi­ca­tion is called ge­o­met­ric, which looks ex­act­ly like it sounds: ge­o­met­ric-look­ing sym­met­ric shapes based up­on in­scrip­tion­al Ro­man cap­i­tals but with a "eu­ro­trash" feel and lit­tle to no imag­i­na­tion. Fu­tu­ra is the best-known ex­am­ple of the ge­o­met­ric sans-serif. We avoid it for good rea­son.