- Joined
- Mar 15, 2005
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- 3,650
- Age
- 50
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- Delawhere?
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- Raesvelg Helheim
It bothers me.
See, when I was a kid (I am old), if you wanted to be obsessed with your favorite celebrities, you had to jump through certain hoops. You had to buy the trashy tabloids, or wait for the trashy tabloid television show to come on, or lurk in the bushes outside their house and take pictures next to the rest of the paparazzi.
These days there's any number of social media tools which enable you to track your favorite celebrities 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and people are exercising this ability.
And that, to be honest, both scares and depresses me.
I suppose it was inevitable, given the rise of the social media, that people would begin to take it too far.
Take Twitter, for example. (please, ba-dum-tish)
The very existence of Twitter, the fact that it's been rampantly successful, is terrifying in some ways. Because I can't imagine a use for it, aside from two very specific groups of people.
The first are people who are so incredibly vain, so utterly self-obsessed that they don't realize that 99.999999% of the human race couldn't care less what they do, say, or think on an hourly basis. That even a large percentage of the people who actually do follow them on Twitter are doing so as a form of social coup-counting.
The second are people whose lives are so entirely devoid of meaning or purpose that they have to live vicariously through their favorite celebrities and internet personalities. People who get genuinely upset when, for some reason, either they cannot access Twitter, or their stalker-crush-du-jour hasn't updated in the last few hours.
"Raes", you say, "I think you're overstating things. Twitter's not that bad!"
To this assertion, I respond as follows:
That's right. It's a Twitter-enabled dog collar. Because the world really cares that your dog just took a huge dump in your foyer.
"But Raes," you say, "don't you care what Lady Gaga is doing?!?"
No.
No I do not.
In fact, I would go so far as to state that I cannot imagine a universe where I cared any less about the personal life of a marginally talented pop star whose sole claim to fame is retreading ground covered by Madonna thirty years ago.
See, when I was a kid (I am old), if you wanted to be obsessed with your favorite celebrities, you had to jump through certain hoops. You had to buy the trashy tabloids, or wait for the trashy tabloid television show to come on, or lurk in the bushes outside their house and take pictures next to the rest of the paparazzi.
These days there's any number of social media tools which enable you to track your favorite celebrities 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and people are exercising this ability.
And that, to be honest, both scares and depresses me.
I suppose it was inevitable, given the rise of the social media, that people would begin to take it too far.
Take Twitter, for example. (please, ba-dum-tish)
The very existence of Twitter, the fact that it's been rampantly successful, is terrifying in some ways. Because I can't imagine a use for it, aside from two very specific groups of people.
The first are people who are so incredibly vain, so utterly self-obsessed that they don't realize that 99.999999% of the human race couldn't care less what they do, say, or think on an hourly basis. That even a large percentage of the people who actually do follow them on Twitter are doing so as a form of social coup-counting.
The second are people whose lives are so entirely devoid of meaning or purpose that they have to live vicariously through their favorite celebrities and internet personalities. People who get genuinely upset when, for some reason, either they cannot access Twitter, or their stalker-crush-du-jour hasn't updated in the last few hours.
"Raes", you say, "I think you're overstating things. Twitter's not that bad!"
To this assertion, I respond as follows:
That's right. It's a Twitter-enabled dog collar. Because the world really cares that your dog just took a huge dump in your foyer.
"But Raes," you say, "don't you care what Lady Gaga is doing?!?"
No.
No I do not.
In fact, I would go so far as to state that I cannot imagine a universe where I cared any less about the personal life of a marginally talented pop star whose sole claim to fame is retreading ground covered by Madonna thirty years ago.