The Internet Just Wants a Hug

I've long believed that you can tell a lot about a civilization by its entertainment. When Romans loved to watch people fight to death in gladiator fights, it said something about what large percentages of that people found entertaining, and the same can be said today. When reality shows and Saw sequels make so much money that studios will not stop making them, it says something about the civilization that we live in. It says that a large enough percentage of our population loves watching dumb people and fictional torture that the people who bring us our entertainment will make sure we are never without a steady supply of new idiots to gawk at and fresh and innovative ways of killing people painfully. But if people in general really do love these things, how come Hollywood says it's struggling? If our entertainment is being made based on what people really want, why does everyone complain that there's nothing good on TV? The entertainment industry has begun to base nearly all of its production line on what's lucrative, but given the growing despondency of audiences, I'm starting to think that money making can be deceptive as to letting us know what people really want. After all, a movie can flop for stupid, stupid reasons, and the same can be said for success. Reality shows, while they certainly have their audience, are really so popular with TV execs because they're cheap to make when script writers aren't being paid. Meanwhile, John Carter, a great movie with a pretty high audience satisfaction rate, pulled in low audiences because of a terribly executed ad campaign and is considered a flop chiefly because its budget was way higher than what it made back. So what can give an accurate depiction of what people are looking for in entertainment? Hows about just straight up asking them?

This is what brings me to the internet.

You see, the internet right now can truly be said to be a cross section of humanity. Not long ago, that statement wouldn't have been accurate. The early internet was comprised mostly of brainy types, because only people who were good with computers could maintain or navigate early websites. Most of the sites that popped up at the beginning, therefore, catered towards the likes and dislikes of that demographic. This opened up a cycle that caused more nerdy people to flock to the internet, and more sites to pop up that were tailor made for nerds. Even as the internet grew and offered a little something for everyone, it first took the form of sites and forums for fans of certain things. Even when there were forums for sports teams and musicians, it still meant that most websites were essentially made for one demographic at a time.

This is basically as unreadable as Egyptian hieroglyphics.

But all this changed. Google, Myspace, Facebook, Reddit, Tumbler, DeviantArt. Sites began to show up that were made without one particular demographic in mind, and now they're the dominant type of non-commercial website on the internet. You're not required to be a nerd or a fan in order to find something worth your while on the internet; all that is required is a computer and internet access, and it will find something that is right up your alley, even if that thing is just talking to the friends you already have. And what this means is that the internet now truly can represent all of mankind (or at least the ones with wifi). And what does this mean for things that the internet latches onto? It means that if a show is big on the internet, it's big with representatives of all demographics. Seeing as how the folks that make our entertainment for us are more concerned with what's successful than what's popular, taking a look at what's the most talked about on the internet is a much better way for people like me to judge the rest of humanity based on what they fill their heads with when they're bored.

As I've begun to look into what the internet finds entertaining, the results have actually vastly improved my outlook on mankind. Want to know why? Let me begin with a specific example.

I'm a really big fan of the show Community, which as you may know (or statistically, not) is on the verge of cancellation. To be more accurate, is basically canceled already with a shortened season coming up before the end. Now, the show hasn't really had the best of times with the ratings, partially because it's been up against Big Bang Theory. Community itself is a show about a group of people in a community college, and and while it certainly has its share of nerdy references, it's moreso a show with a little bit for everybody, the kind of show that anyone with a sense of humor should find accessible. Big Bang Theory, on the other hand, is a show about outdated nerd stereotypes from 80's films, and the dialogue of every episode consists 50% of references to whatever geek fare is closest to mainstream at that particular moment.

In case you couldn't tell, I'm not really a fan.

The interesting part? Big Bang Theory is doing splendidly in the ratings (which is completely inexplicable from my point of view), while Community is doing poorly ratings wise, with the exception of its huge internet presence.

Now, my point isn't that the internet is great simply because it has vastly superior taste to the Nielson families. It's something more; it's why the internet loves Community so much, but can only give an unenthusiastic “meh” to Big Bang Theory, despite the fact that it seems like it would be (ostensibly) aimed directly at them.

Why wouldn't nerds enjoy this accurate, loving depiction of their culture?

Gawker recently asked this question, and their answer is, I think, a good reason to give the internet a second chance. Essentially, it boiled down to the way each show portrayed the relationships between the characters; Big Bang Theory just shows us some people who hang out together and plays their personal conversations for laughs; Community portrays a group of people coming together, becoming friends, and overcoming obstacles to remain friends. The point of one show is “ha, those nerdy types sure are a hoot, aren't they?”, while the point of the other is, “let's all be buddies here”.

And the internet is eating it up.

Gawker's conclusion was that the internet finds appealing entertainment that emphasizes friendship, closeness, communication, and, if you will, a sense of community. I find this suggestion very encouraging, and it got me to take a closer look at what else is popular. Stuff like My Little Pony. Have you heard of Bronies? That's the name given to the vast hordes of adult, male fans of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. It sounds horrible, mostly because any portmanteau that features the word “bro” is horrible. But when you stop to think about it, it's actually kind of sweet. I was morbidly curious when I heard how oddly popular My Little Pony was, so I watched the pilot. I'm not going to lie, I kind of loved it. The aesthetic was obviously not made with me in mind, but there was a core essence of kindness that I enjoyed thoroughly. There was an extended sequence where one by one, each of the protagonists (I can't say “each of the ponies” and still have you take this sentence seriously) individually overcomes an obstacle through some unique, positive trait and gets the group one step closer to their goal. This even included taming a furious manticore (I know, right) by removing a thorn from its paw, and I'm not afraid to say I teared up a little there.

I'm not going to continue watching My Little Pony, mostly because I simply cannot allow myself to belong to a group with “bro” in its name, and also because as much as it was my perfect idea of a fairy tale, I just can't watch a show about ponies.

Also, the dragon sidekick is pretty annoying, and gives me a serious Max from Dragon Tales vibe, which is entirely the wrong kind of nostalgia.

But just look at how much this show which is designed for young girls is bringing together fans from all sorts of demographics, just because they want to be entertained by something sweet and kind. And it's all over the place. Plenty of shows get canceled every year, but which ones get noteworthy fan campaigns to save them? How about Firefly, which features a tight knit, familial crew of a spaceship. Or Kim Possible, about a tight knit, familial trio of teenagers who fight crime (and also spend time loving their own, literal families). Or Jericho, which is about a tight knit, familial group of people trying to survive in a post apocalyptic wasteland (seriously, Wikipedia even says, “Several themes regularly addressed in the show included... community identity, the value of family, and the hardships of fatherhood”.)

What about comic books? Yeah, it's true that Batman is the most popular character right now, but if you want to know what's big on the internet, look for what the publishers refer to as “fan favorites”. Fan Favorites include Birds of Prey, an all girl superhero team that has dealt with strengthening the bonds of friendship on so many levels; the All New Atom, about the adventures of Ryan Choi and his ever loyal supporting cast; Blue Beetle, which featured the teenaged Jaime Reyes coming completely clean to his whole family and best friends about having a secret superhero identity by the third issue; even Secret Six, which got about as dark as a comic about a mercenary team of supervillains could get, but still managed to make you love the characters because of how close knit and familial they were.

The lesson here? For every Yahoo Answers trolling, there's someone talking about how the happy ending to the latest Doctor Who episode made them cry. For every YouTube comments Flame War, there's a forum hoping for a full series of Super Best Friends Forever. And for every Craigslist killer, there's about 50,000 internet users who just want a hug.

Gee, maybe humanity isn't so bad after all.

Hope for the Future Yet

I don’t like to describe myself as cynical, but I'll readily admit I'm secretly a fairly pessimistic person. It's one of my genetic gifts, and it's something I grapple with from time to time. I developed the sense of a hopeless romantic from my mom, and the two battle it out non stop, evenly matched save for those awful moments when watching the un-hopeless romantics in the world around me acting the way they do seems to prove the Pessimist right. It’s at these moments that the Hopeless Romantic goes to him, not really ready to admit defeat, but at least to acknowledge the definitive losing fight that makes his struggle so valiant a one. There is an inherent pessimism to the Hopeless Romantic, hopeless being the key word here. But every once in a while, I come across something so wonderful, so beautiful, so indescribably glorious that the Hopeless Romantic need do nothing but point and smile satisfactorily. "Well played, sir" smirks the Pessimist, and goes back to his isolation, sitting in an armchair smoking a cigar in a large empty mansion.

This morning I stumbled across one such overwhelmingly beautiful epoch. I passed by a house that was privy to the TP-ing of a lifetime. I really want to go back and take photos or something, so that I can remind myself years later that I was blessed enough to see that good of a job in my life. They hit everything: three trees (we’re just now coming out of winter, so they were still bare of leaves), the bushes, the wooden bench, some on the roof, and even around and in the mailbox. The house and yard were fairly small, so they hit the neighbors’ gardens and trees as well, subtly enough that the focus was still on the one house. Lastly, the best part was a shining emblem of the reason behind it all: posted in the middle of the yard, and accentuated with ribbons of two-ply, was a poster board sign on a wooden stake that proudly said "I ♥ U!"

It's nice to see someone of my generation with a little pride in tradition, and a knowledge of the past. You see, this is a lesser known fact anymore, but historically speaking, the meaning and inherent symbolism of TP-ing someone's house was as a grand and chivalrous act of love. Only a love true enough, pure enough, brave enough could summon the courage in the heart of the male to declare his passion to the world by TP-ing the house of the object of his affections. Over time, this aspect of the task has slowly disappeared, and now what once was an important step in the order of courtly love, has now been accumulated into the collective arts of the base and soulless vandal. Now a days, the passionate art of TP-ing is performed almost exclusively by vagabonds and villains, whose sole intent is to quench their lust for adrenaline. Usually, too, these kinds of performances are mere trifles; poor, unfinished jobs that are more of an embarrassment to the vandal in question than an annoyance to the owner of the unfortunate residence. There doesn't seem to be any more TP-ings worth even slowing down to gawk at. Gone are the days when true love held its sway; when a man could target his beloved with an array of flying rolls, either to prove the steadfastness of his love to the disapproving guardians of the girl, or perhaps to melt her icy heart and prove the strength of his loyalty to her. I look around in shame at the disheartened yards with but a single roll or two, ashamed at its own inadequacy to attract better artisans of the craft. I sigh wistfully to myself, and sometimes piteously ask aloud, "What has become of France?"

But here, holding its head high, this yard could display both the crystal clear majesty, the utter completeness of this monument, and it's even clearer message of passion. I only hope that I myself will have the courage, skill, and heroism to one day pay the due honor to my beloved with such a gift. I hope and pray, every night that I too can leave this kind of romantic impression upon her.

This is the most romantic thing I think I've ever seen.

There is hope for the future yet.

More Like a Giant Lie!

Ladies and gentlemen, I am hopping mad right now. In my wrath, I am here to call out the scientific community for an affront that has plagued me and other likeminded people for some time now. I am here to accuse the arrogant scientists the world over for a crime against humanity I like to call “false identifying”. There have been several examples of this over the years, but the straw that broke the camel’s back takes the form of the recently discovered Giant Penguin. Or, more accurately, the so-called “Giant” penguin.

Here I am, surfing the great expanse of the internet, when I see one of the most searched topics for the day is something called the “giant penguin”. You can only imagine the excitement I exuded as I giddily clicked the link, hoping to see some sort of feathered behemoth, presumably attacking Tokyo. I was immediately, and not for the first time, disappointed. The giant in question was merely the fossilized remains of a bird that was approximately 5 feet tall.

Artist's Impression

Okay, fine, I get it; that is big for a bird. The average bird is often less than a foot long, and rarely weighs more than a few ounces. Most modern day penguins are rather small, with the largest species being the Emperor Penguin, which reaches a height just around 2 feet tall. I understand that for a bird to waddle around at about my height, that’s pretty impressive. But do we have to misleadingly refer to it as a giant? I don’t consider anything at 5 feet tall “giant”, and if it is, then I get to be a giant too. Giant is not “relative”; giant is concrete. A moth cannot be called giant if it’s 2 feet wide as opposed to 2 inches, it’s giant if it’s the size of Mothra. Can we just be honest and call it a Large Penguin, or a Jumbo Penguin, or a Rather Big Penguin, or a Penguin of Unusual Size? Big Bird is roughly twice my height, and we don’t even call him giant, we just call him “big”.

Artist's Impression

All this hubbub reminds me of one of my earliest childhood obsessions, and that was with the Giant Squid. For years, my young mind was filled with the tantalizing image of this mysterious, effervescent entity, this monstrous denizen of the deep. They called it giant, that meant it had to be huge! It had to be a squid the size of the Empire State Building! It was so cool, and the very fact that no one had ever seen live one at the time (or at least seen one and lived to tell the tale) simply added to the intrigue of this oh so rare giant. I marveled at this leviathan of the frozen deep for years and years until I made the relatively recent discovery that, guess what, is only a measly 13 feet, and most of that is tentacle length. What happened to the squid so big that in one gulp it could eat James Mason’s submarine? This massive disappointment in relative size of a mythical mollusk is probably the single greatest hardship I have ever faced in my life.

I thought I had learned my lesson. I thought that cynicism had taken its hold and would prevent me from ever being hurt again by the thoughtless sensationalism rampant in the animal naming industry. And yet here, again, I was misled by a beastly imaginative name, only to be abandoned at the threshold of reality. Bitterly disappointed, I am left to rely on my imagination to fulfill the broken promises I was tricked into believing by the scientific community, the recesses of my mind being the only sanctuary where I can truly find that giant penguin I was so desperately hoping for.

Artist's Impression

How many more generations are going to have go through what I went through. How many more dreams are going to be crushed because these scientists have to fulfill their own twisted need to over emphasize? From now on, let’s just make it a rule to only name something giant if it’s truly giant, and if it’s not giant, just call it “great big” or something. C’mon. We have a giant language, with plenty of synonyms for “big”. I’m sure you can find something that won’t break my heart.