I no-shit admire the way Maria Popova alchemically supports herself by selling a product without value. That takes stones. Doesn't stop Brain Pickings from grating at a low and constant level, a tinnitus of the assey medium I spend most of my life in, and it occasionally goes from chronic to acute.
But I've never been able to define just why her product was so irritating until Mills Baker crystallized it:
I knew the melody but now the lyrics are gelling. Not only is her writing embarrassingly overwrought, a "no diving" sign by the puddle, but with it she's packaging and selling thimblefuls of culture that are good for nothing more than regurgitation. Ditto for the shitty "nauseating aestheticization of science on the Internet" that's her stock in trade.
Also "I love books" doesn't need to be said by anyone. They're fungible containers for ideas. Leave it.
Semper Canine Diabetes, carry on.