Taming the CMS Migration Beast: A Guide for Agencies
Every agency knows the power of a well-timed CMS migration. It can breathe new life into a client's website, improve functionality, and boost user experience. But let's face it, migrations can be complex and fraught with challenges.
At [Agency Name], we've helped numerous clients navigate the CMS migration maze. Here, we'll share the top 5 hurdles you might encounter and how to conquer them – turning a potentially daunting task into a strategic win for your agency and your clients.
Challenge #1: Data, the Untamed Beast
Your client's website content is precious cargo. Images, text, videos – everything needs to be meticulously extracted and integrated into the new CMS. Here's where things can get messy:
Inconsistent Formats: Text is easy, but what about galleries, custom elements, or social media integrations? Different CMSes have different storage formats.
Structural Shuffle: The old CMS's way of organizing content might not translate perfectly, leading to broken links and frustrated users.
Missing in Action: Crucial details like publish dates, author information, or SEO tags can vanish during migration if not handled with care.
Taming the Beast:
Content Inventory is Key: Before packing your digital boxes, take a complete inventory of everything on the website. This ensures nothing gets left behind.
Migration Magic: Leverage the power of migration tools! Many CMS platforms offer built-in or third-party solutions to streamline data transfer.
Proactive Communication: Keep your client informed throughout the process. Discuss potential challenges and highlight the steps you're taking to mitigate them.
Challenge #2: Downtime Dilemmas
Website downtime translates to lost traffic and revenue for your client. Minimizing disruption is crucial.
Taming the Beast:
Phased Approach: Consider a phased migration, tackling sections of the website at a time. This allows you to minimize downtime and maintain a functioning website while the migration progresses.
The Staging Ground: Create a staging environment – a replica of the live website – to test the migration process before unleashing it on the real world.
Challenge #3: The SEO Sphinx
Search Engine Optimization (SEO) is the magic that keeps your client's website visible in search results. A bumpy migration can confuse search engines, leading to a drop in rankings.
Taming the Sphinx:
SEO Audit: Before migrating, conduct a thorough SEO audit to identify crucial elements like keywords and backlinks.
301 Redirects: Set up 301 redirects to ensure search engines understand where your client's content has moved to. This maintains their SEO ranking.
Transparency is Key: Communicate your SEO strategy to your client and keep them updated on any potential ranking fluctuations.
Challenge #4: The User Labyrinth
Your client's website users are accustomed to a certain way of navigating and interacting with content. A drastic change in the CMS interface can lead to confusion.
Taming the Labyrinth:
User-Centric Approach: Keep your client's users in mind throughout the migration process. Consider their needs and how they might interact with the new website.
Training and Support: Provide training materials and support options to help users adapt to the new CMS interface.
Challenge #5: The Resource Rascal
CMS migrations can be complex, requiring technical expertise and project management skills. If your agency's internal resources are stretched thin, it can become a roadblock.
Taming the Rascal:
Assemble the Avengers! Build a dedicated migration team with the necessary skills or consider partnering with a CMS migration specialist.
The Power of Partnership: Partnering with an experienced agency like [Agency Name] allows you to leverage our migration expertise and resources, ensuring a smooth transition for your client.
Don't Go it Alone: Partner with a CMS Migration Specialist
By understanding these challenges and implementing the suggested strategies, you can transform your agency's CMS migration services into a valuable offering for your clients.
Get a head start on your effortless migration with a trusted offshore partner: Effortless CMS Migration with Offshore Partners
Conquer common migration challenges and emerge victorious: Overcoming Challenges in CMS Migration
Master the art of cost-effective migration strategies: Mastering Cost-Effective CMS Migrations with Offshore Partners
Ensure your content is seamlessly transferred to your new CMS: Content Migration Support
Set sail for a successful CMS migration today!
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Working class Dems who campaign on economics beat Trumpists in elections
I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me FRIDAY NIGHT (Mar 22) in TORONTO, then SUNDAY (Mar 24) with LAURA POITRAS in NYC, then Anaheim, and more!
The Democratic Party Pizzaburger Theory of Electioneering is: half the electorate wants a pizza, the other half wants a burger, so we'll give them all a pizzaburger and make them all equally dissatisfied, thus winning the election:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/16/that-boy-aint-right/#dinos-rinos-and-dunnos
But no one wants a pizzaburger. The Biden administration's approach of letting the Warren/Sanders wing pick the antitrust enforcers while keeping judicial appointments in the Manchin-Synematic universe is a catastrophe in which progressive Dem regulators (who serve one term) are thwarted by corporatist Dem judges (who serve for life):
https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/14/making-good-trouble/#the-peoples-champion
The Democrats – like all parties in two-party systems – are a coalition; in this case, a "progressive" liberal-left coalition with liberals serving as senior partners, steering the party and setting its policies. These corporate dems like to color themselves as "neutral" technocrats with "realistic, apolitical" policies that represent what's best for the country:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/05/not-that-naomi/#if-the-naomi-be-klein-youre-doing-just-fine
This sets up the left wing of the party as the starry-eyed, unrealistic radicals whose policies are unpopular and will lose elections. But for a decade, grassroots-funded primary challenges have made it possible to test this theory, by putting leftist politicians on the ballot in front of voters, especially in tight races with far-right Republicans (that is, exactly the kinds of races that the corporate wing of the party says we can't afford to take chances on).
The 2022 midterms included enough races to start testing these theories – and, unlike traditional midterms, these races enjoyed high voter turnout, thanks to the unpopularity of GOP positions like abortion bans, book bans and anti-trans laws. Jacobin teamed up with the Center for Working-Class Politics, Yougov and the Center for Work and Democracy at ASU and analyzed those races:
https://images.jacobinmag.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/11134429/CWCP-Report-2024.pdf
Their conclusion: candidates from working-class backgrounds who campaigned on economic policies like high-quality jobs, higher minimum wages, a jobs guarantee, ending offshoring and outsourcing, building infrastructure and bringing manufacturing back to the US won with a 50% share of the vote in rural and working-class districts. Dems who didn't lost with a 35% share of the vote:
https://prospect.org/politics/2024-03-18-how-actually-existing-democrats-run-for-office/
In other words, in the kinds of districts where Trumpist politicians are beating Democrats, running on "left populist" policies beats Trumpist politicians.
That's the good news: if Dems recruit leftist, working class politicians and put them up for office on policies that address the material reality of voters' lives, they can beat fascist GOP candidates.
Now for the bad news: the Democratic establishment has no interest in getting these candidates onto the ballot. Working-class candidates, by definition, lack the networks of deep-pocketed cronies who can fund their primary campaigns. Only 2.3% of Dem candidates come from blue-collar backgrounds (if you include "pink-collar" professions like nursing and teaching, the number goes up to 5.9%):
https://jacobin.com/2024/03/left-populists-working-class-voters
All of this confirms the findings of Trump's Kryoptonite, an earlier Jacobin/CWCP research project that polled working-class voters on preferences for hypothetical candidates, finding that working-class candidates with economically progressive policies handily beat out Republicans, including MAGA Republicans:
https://images.jacobinmag.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/08125102/TrumpsKryptonite_Final_June2023.pdf
Since the Clinton-Blair years, "progressives" have abandoned economic populism ("It's not a burning ambition for me to make sure that David Beckham earns less money" -T. Blair) and pursued a "third way" that seeks to replace half the world's of supply white, male oligarchs with diverse oligarchs from a variety of backgrounds and genders. We were told that this was done in the name of winning elections with "modern" policies that replaced old-fashioned ideas about decent pay, decent jobs, and worker power.
These policies have delivered a genocide-riven world on the brink of several kinds of existential catastrophe. They're a failure. The pizzaburger party didn't deliver safety, nor prosperity – and it also can't deliver elections.
Name your price for 18 of my DRM-free ebooks and support the Electronic Frontier Foundation with the Humble Cory Doctorow Bundle.
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/20/actual-material-conditions/#bread-and-butter
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Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.2
[Pt.1]
Peter’s no stranger to memories that comes as nightmares. There’s something different to them, the taste of terror that’s tinged with a feeling of “that’s happened.”
Flashes of Aunt May, dying as he stood next to her while choosing the city over her? Old hat. Inky darkness surrounding MJ falling as Peter reached for her, over and over again? Been there, seen that, didn’t even get a sick scar out of it. Racing against the clock to defeat some bad guy or an unknown threat? That’s his Thursday.
But this?
This isn’t his. It’s real, Peter could tell that much. Sure, it’s wrapped up in silk hisses and heart crushing terror, but Peter could always tell whether a nightmare was a nightmare or whether it was a memory.
This was a memory. Not his. His. It’s complicated.
“Your father, papito, he-,”
Then, it’d be the ruffle of his hair, brown eyes. It reminded him of his mom. But the crease of these eyes were different. Hardened, mean. Even towards him.
“Well, he said no, but I knew what he really wanted.”
The base of Peter’s neck always crawled when he remembered that line. His spider-sense warned him that whatever he’s remembering, he would not like.
“Ey, Peter.”
“Huh?” Peter blinked, looking up from where his arms were elbow deep in wires.
“Don’cha need gloves with that?” Frank asked, munching on some jerky. They were sitting in the living room, repairing a TV and a washer Frank had somehow managed to lug back to the apartment. It’s a toss up between Frank’s network of orphans (Peter included), street rats (these things are not mutually inclusive), or his own slightly higher than average strength. Not that they needed to thrift broken things, considering Peter’s funneling money from offshore bank accounts belonging to this America’s 1%. They just made it so easy! He and Ned had been hacking into government bases in middle school back on his world. This world? Not even a challenge. Regardless, this was kind of like… Frank’s version of those fancy sensory boxes for Peter.
“Oh, no. It’s not plugged in, see?”
“How’re ya gunna know it works then?”
“Plug it in after I’m done. Turn it off and on, you know?”
Frank stared at him, then rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.
“If you burn down that portion of the house, at least we’ll be warm for a bit.”
“Thanks. Your confidence in me is astounding.”
“You talk like an old man.”
“I do not! Excuse you! If I’m old, you’re the expired knock off cup ramen in the back of a convenience store!”
“Yo, shrimpy, that’s rude, ya hear?” Frank snickered, impressed at the quip. The Alley kid turned brother stood up to plop next to Peter.
“So… you gonna go…?” Frank made a whooshing sound and held his hand in a web shooter position.
“Tonight? Prolly. Anything I should look out for?”
“You’re gunna get yourself killed, but yeah, heard the gang’s back up north.”
Peter flashed a smile, dimples coming out. “I’ll try not to. Thanks, Frank.”
“Anytime, Spidey.”
Frank, though little (to Peter), was a good friend. Then again, considering Peter saved his ass both in mask and out of it, it’s to be expected. One would think that after eight years of hiding his identity, Peter would be better at it. Then, he got punted into a different world and got made by a child.
To be fair, the circumstances all but screamed Parker Luck, so Peter’s not counting this instance.
See, the first few days of this sudden cohabitation, Peter had asked Frank to find them furniture. Both because he was getting real sick of eating on the floor and because Peter needed to fix his suit to match his much younger body. Then, once he readjusted the shrinking nanotech and the spider legs to fit him in a way that wouldn’t break him, Peter had promptly swung out of the building and went patrolling. He stuck with the wandering Frank, taking out muggers and robbers and everything in between and past that around the area where Frank is.
Looking back, Peter realized how lucky he was when he decided to go on the “helping joyride” at the beginning of the evening. His spider-sense activated way later in the night, the moment where he began seeing and sensing the cameras that kept pointing towards him. He ducked and dodged out of the way, and eventually, the feeling left. Somebody was watching. And he doesn’t know where they stood on the moral side of things.
Anyways, it happened after three weeks and a half of going out and just… settling into life in Gotham. He had already been struggling to find a way home, scouring the libraries around Gotham on any subject that would aid in his multiversal travel. Peter would like to know which emo kid named this city.
Eventually, Parker Luck decided to strike once more.
“Get back, freak!” The lady brandished a wicked knife.
Talk about deja vu.
“Oh no! Knives! My greatest weakness!” Spider-Man yelled, sticking to the shadowed windows as he let his voice echo in the alley. Gotham had a lot of nice hiding places. Spider-man dropped down on her head like a bat out of hell and webbed the knife out of her hands. He webbed the mugger up onto the alleyway above normal reach, and told the man to call the police.
Frank screamed, just as Spider-man wrapped it up, loud enough to reach his enhanced hearing.
“Wait-!” The man tried to stop him, but Peter, small, trained, and having readjusted his reach, slipped away.
“What’s your name?!” The guy he saved yelled at his back.
Spider-man, distracted, yelled back, “SPIDEY!”
He shot webs upwards and used them to slingshot his way towards where Frank was. And… car! Peter used his webs to swing up, up, and let himself fall to gain momentum. At the last moment, Peter shot a web to the top of the car and pulled himself to it.
Shit, shit, shit. He’s stupidly attached to the kid, and he was stupid enough to let Frank go out into Gotham looking both well-fed and well clothed.
The world slowed as he locked eyes with a terrified Frank, who was getting dragged into a car.
The world narrowed to speed and Spider-Man landed on top of the car roof, sweeping his leg out and thankfully remembering his much shorter reach. His foot collided with the kidnapper’s face with the equivalent force of a grown up, slightly annoyed Peter Parker who’s letting his strength go a bit unchecked. Basically, they went flying, blood spewing out of the undoubtedly broken nose Spider-Man had just given them.
Standing on business, the shorter webster promptly flipped down wards as he all but glued the would-be kidnapper to the curb.
“You alright?”
“You’re- You’re that new mask.” Frank whispered, scuttling away from the car where he’d been dropped.
“Yeah, man. You okay?” His voice modulator came in clutch.
“Fuck. Fuck, I gotta-” Frank stumbled. The kid looked like he was one bad break away from snapping. Peter hated it when kids got that terrified look on their faces, it reminded him of himself, helpless as Ben bled out because they should never have to fear something that much.
Something’s wrong, though. As much as Peter wished otherwise, Frank was a Gotham bred and true alley kid, through and through. These kids don’t spook easily. Peter already stopped a couple of kidnappings and at least two of the kids had yelled at him to stay out of the way before unloading a rain of nut kicks on their kidnappers that left Peter wincing for days in sympathy. Frank being this spooked? Something’s going on.
“Woah, easy there, I’m not gonna hurt you,”
Frank shot him a half hysterical, half condescending look. Yeah, that’s more like it.
“Ob-obviously. I have to go before more of them comes,” Frank muttered.
“More of them? You know what they want?”
Frank stared at him, looking up and down at his blue, red, and gold ensemble.
“I can help,” Peter promised.
“What’re your thoughts on metas?”
Suspicious.
“Uh, they’re fine? Depends on the person, why?”
Frank sighed. The skinny teenager, barely 14, tugged at his hair. “They’re traffickers. Meta kids, mostly, so the Bats don’t do nothing. I- uh, I got caught.” He held up a thin wrist, showing Peter his new accessorie, a think metal bracelet that was beeping red.
Peter cursed in his head. Fuck, of course he’d stumble into a-
“Caught? You’re a meta?”
Frank nodded. “Strength. This is an inhibitor, illegal kind, you know?”
Well, that explained how he got all of those furniture without struggle.
“Right. Hey, don’t stress, kid, I’m a meta too.”
Frank blinked.
“What?”
Peter walked up the side of the car and did jazz hands.
“You’re a meta?! But- but you’re a mask operating in Gotham!”
“Yeah…? Is that weird?”
Before Frank could reply, Peter’s sense screamed and Spider-Man shoved Frank away from the spray of bullets.
“Move, Frank!”
Peter flipped away, vaguely aware of Frank’s gaping realization. He took down the shooters in quick succession, stopping the speeding car with his bare hands and some webs.
“Shooters, no shooting!” He yelled, liberally applying force he tended to keep under wraps. Frank was like a brother to him, and there is no universe where Peter Parker would hold back when his family was in danger.
When he got back to Frank, who had oddly stayed instead of running, Peter found out why the kid stayed.
“Peter?!” Frank hissed lowly, looking more pissed off than terrified. “Are you fucking insane?! Why are you running ‘round as a mask?!”
“Shhh!” Shit, he got made. “Come on, get back to the apartment and we can talk there. I’ll get rid of this-”
Peter casually snapped the bracelet in half, tearing the tracker out, and tucked it away to study later.
“Fuckin’- shit, fine, but you’re explaining everything, motherfucker!”
They split, Peter guessing correctly that he was in another lecture of a lifetime.
——
“Your vigilante name is Spiderman?”
“Hey, I can hear you say it without the hyphen! There’s a hyphen in there!”
“You’re not a man! You’re a twerp!”
“I’ll show you twerp, you-”
Five minutes of tussling later, in which Peter did not try to bite Frank’s arm off, thank you very much, Frank leaned back on the couch.
“Besides. People in the streets are calling you Spidey, anyways.”
“Spidey?”
“Some dude you saved from a mugging said you told him.”
Peter slammed his head on the floor where he was laying face down.
“Ughhhh.”
——
“He could have been great. I saw his potential.”
Anger. But he shouldn’t be afraid. The woman loved him.
“Hey, Peter. You’re up here again.”
“Hi.” Peter stayed curled up. His mind had refused him sleep for the last three nights, causing dark circles to appear underneath his eyes. The memories of what he assumed to be this world’s Peter was merging with his. What he’d seen so far did not fill him with confidence of a happy childhood. Flashes of wielding weapons, the sterile smell of a metal dissection table, and hundreds and hundreds of spiders crawling over him, getting startled into biting down. Plus, the stress of tracking down the meta trafficking circles in Gotham was no joke. He doesn’t know Gotham nearly as well as he knew New York, and he had to be extra careful running around and trying to catch every bit of the circle before making any moves. Frank was helping with his network of homeless Meta kids, but the traffickers were everywhere except for Crime Alley.
He should be dead. They sold his body to an organ harvester who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version.
“Everything all right?” Red Robin clambered down to sit next to him, cowl hiding the concerned scrunch of his brow. He’s never seen Peter like this.
Peter grumbled, staring down at another alleyway. He knows his alternate died. His shit excuse for another sold his body to an organ harvester, when he seized on the operating table, who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version. He does, however, have to worry about missing vital organs.
“I… remembered something.” Peter remembered a lot of things. And pretty much none of them were good. This Peter suffered a lot in his short life.
Red Robin nodded. The issue of Peter’s spotty memories had come up in their discussions over the past month.
“Ah. Something unpleasant?”
Peter thought back to the voice who, despite all of the other, highly traumatic memories, haunted his brain like nothing else.
“He didn’t live up to it. He refused to kill. So I made the decision for him.”
“Yeah. Not for me, but unpleasant that I know about it.”
“Yeah, I get that. You wanna talk about it?” Peter hid a small smile. Even though Red Robin kept his tone light, the concern still bled through. Warm. It made Peter feel warm. Even if it appeared that the Bats don’t really care about the trafficked meta kids… maybe Red Robin would come save normal kid Peter if he got kidnapped. A backup plan to consider. For now…
“Sure,” he said. Red Robin waited patiently.
“I think, I remember someone. Maybe, maybe my…” Peter grimaced. “My mom? She… told me something. And uh, I think I’maproductofrape.”
“Oh,” Red Robin said, so awkwardly that Peter had to crack a small smile despite the gravity of the topic. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Me too. Not myself, but for…” Peter waved a hand. “You know.”
“Yeah.”
“She wasn’t a good person,” Peter whispered and hated how he missed the browns of her eyes- her middle name was Marie, and god, Peter wished he hadn’t known that because he gets why her eyes reminded him so much of his own mother- and she besmirched everything Mary Parker stood for.
“You have our combined potential, Peter. Make sure not to be like him too much and live up to it, papito.”
“It’s okay, to love her even if she hurt other people,” Red Robin said, gently ruffling his greasy hair. Peter’s spidey-sense tingled and he ducked away. Red Robin withdrew his hand. “Because you can’t really help that. Trust me, I’ve tried. You just have to make sure they don’t get the chance to do what they did again.”
Cold, cold voices and his voice gave out from screaming. “You really are your father’s son. Never being able to do what’s necessary.”
And Peter wondered what happened to Red Robin and who hurt him. Peter would just like to talk. Red Robin reminded him of himself, way back when being Spider-Man meant finding out Harry became Green Goblin. Pained. Tired.
“Yeah,” Peter agreed. But that’s not really a problem, considering the last thing the organ harvester said before dumping him in an alley. “She’s dead in a ditch in Siberia or something. I’m not really worried she’ll do it again.”
“Uh.”
“It’s cool,”
“Right. Have you… remembered your dad?”
“Yeah. He’s in Gotham,” Peter unfurled a little.
“You want help tracking him down? I’m good at that kind of thing.”
Peter glanced at Red Robin. “I think you just admitted to being a stalker.”
“Vigilante,” Red Robin shrugged, like it explained everything. And yeah, it kind of did. Peter snorted.
“Nah, it’s okay. I don’t want to meet him anyways.”
“Why not?”
“He doesn’t know about me,” Peter ticked off his fingers. “I’m a literal walking, talking, breathing reminder of his trauma. And I don’t need a dad.”
Red Robin looked at him silently. Peter doesn’t think about it.
He never wanted to see his parents suffer. An alternate version of his dad, hurt so irrevocably by an alternate version of his mom?
Peter hated that this Catalina dirtied his mother’s name, and went against the most fundamental parts of what the spider symbol was meant for. And considering he’s been doing this longer than her, he had first dibs on defining it. He’ll look after his dad, as long as he’s stuck in Gotham. It’s only right.
“His name? Oh, my son, it’s Richard Grayson.”
——
Peter, who Trusts his instincts: no head rubs?? awwwww
Tim, who’s been trying to get a dna sample for the last month: how does he keep evading me?? He must be a genius or a spy or- *spirals down the conspiracy board*
——
Tim: I’ve connected the dots!
Peter: you’ve connected jack shit
——
Listen, the moment I learned Catalina Flores’ middle name, the pieces clicked, okay? Like legos. It’s like, former FBI agent in this one and former CIA agent in Peter’s home universe? Wow. Middle name Marie? Mary Parker? Incredible. Spider themes run in the blood apparently?? They both have brown eyes!! Trying to do good with no qualms about murder!! (I’m assuming since Mary Parker was SHIELD and I don’t think SHIELD cared much for the sanctity of human life if it threatened the country or something)
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