Requiem for a Meme

Tik­Tok was a balm dur­ing the pan­dem­ic. What began as a sil­ly app for dances became the great­est visu­al sto­ry­telling mech­a­nism since Face­book first tried piv­ot­ing to video. Unlike Snap, Tik­Tok was wild­ly intu­itive, a new video just a quick swipe up and away. The algo­rithm was smarter and the con­tent bet­ter than any­where else online, which of course, is why it had to die.

For any­one old enough to remem­ber the Cold War, we’ve been invent­ing rea­sons to be afraid of things every­where for­ev­er. We’ve had issues with the Chi­nese since they came to Amer­i­ca and built the rail­roads. I wish things had evolved to a place where we could embrace inter­na­tion­al com­pe­ti­tion and coop­er­a­tion, but here we are. I wish we had a keen­er under­stand­ing of how mis­in­for­ma­tion gets dis­trib­uted and how “legit­mate” chan­nels have been used to do this for as long as they exist­ed. I mean, “remem­ber the Maine” was mis­in­for­ma­tion. WMDs were mis­in­for­ma­tion. Those were far more cost­ly in lives than Tik­Tok, yet here we are.

This is a requiem for a meme.

Do you remem­ber the first trend­ing audio that sucked you in? For me, I think it was the bad­die dance trans­for­ma­tion and things spi­raled from there. It’s per­fect that I’m obsessed with the weird Twit­ter ener­gy of Lit­tle Sleepy Demons as the sun sets on TikTok.

But what about the friends we made along the way?

I for­get when exact­ly I joined, but it was late, rel­a­tive­ly speak­ing. That said, I was imme­di­ate­ly hooked. It trans­formed how I con­nect­ed with my social media col­leagues, and the con­tent helped me work through things relat­ed to fam­i­ly and career that I did­n’t real­ize were such wide­ly shared experiences. 

As lay­offs hit me and so many oth­ers start­ing in 2023, Tik­Tok was a place where peo­ple open­ly dis­cussed — if not filmed out­right — their lay­off. It was like watch­ing the entire notion of employ­er brand vapor­ize in real time. There was a real fear­less­ness that came to life there through the mil­len­ni­als and Gen Z users who at times bared their souls to the app, hop­ing to find some­one who could relate. In some impor­tant ways that con­nec­tion, vir­tu­al though it may be, was a salve for the iso­la­tion and lone­li­ness that plagues so many of us.

Bar­ring an unlike­ly reprieve, I ful­ly expect Tik­Tok to dis­ap­pear just like Vine did, or how MySpace and Friend­ster did before that. There will be fee­ble clones. Peers like YouTube and Insta­gram will try to cap­ture that ener­gy, but nei­ther real­ly deliv­ers. It’s the demo­graph­ics that count. It will be sore­ly missed. Noth­ing gold can stay.

Your Blog Won’t Save the World

Meta’s deci­sion to end their part­ner­ships with fact check­ing orga­ni­za­tions set off a firestorm online this week. Apart from the expect­ed and under­stand­able frus­tra­tion with Mark Zucker­berg and the role mis­in­for­ma­tion on his plat­forms play in shap­ing pub­lic opin­ion, there’s been the usu­al wave of peo­ple look­ing for alter­na­tives to social. This man­i­fests as a famil­iar refrain to revive blogs and the web we lost.

It’s not going to happen.

Set aside the fact that I’ve cho­sen to blog about this: in a world with­out an acces­si­ble RSS read­er, we lack two things: an effec­tive dis­tri­b­u­tion mech­a­nism AND the habit­u­at­ed web brows­ing that was com­mon­place before the social media rev­o­lu­tion. Real­i­ty is that dis­tri­b­u­tion has always been paid, going back to Sears and Roe­buck mail­ing cat­a­logs across the coun­try. It’s what’s sus­tained ad-sup­port­ed media. Paid dis­tri­b­u­tion has been an effec­tive short­cut to growth for­ev­er and it con­tin­ues to win over owned channels.

Think of the pend­ing Tik­Tok ban, or any­time Insta­gram crash­es. Every­one screams, “this is why you need to own your chan­nels so you can own your audi­ence.” It’s exhaust­ing because no one invests in owned chan­nels mean­ing­ful­ly, or has­n’t in some time, and the peo­ple say­ing this know it. And where are they shout­ing this? On the very social media they’re decry­ing! Why? Because it’s where the audi­ence is!

Imag­ine what would hap­pen if the bud­gets that have been ded­i­cat­ed to pro­duc­tion and media for social chan­nels shift­ed to web­sites and newslet­ters! As some­one who came up in the first wave of cor­po­rate blogs, it’s easy to for­get how gen­uine­ly cre­ative those sites and expe­ri­ences were. There’s a rea­son waves of jour­nal­ists were hired by brands to lead edi­to­r­i­al — they need­ed fan­tas­tic con­tent to con­vince peo­ple to vis­it repeat­ed­ly. I still have close friend­ships with folks who ran sites like Coke Jour­ney and oth­ers. They were fas­ci­nat­ing exper­i­ments in what was pos­si­ble with online chan­nels. Unsur­pris­ing­ly, they’re all gone now.

It’s not because I don’t enjoy mem­o­ries of that time, but it’s fool­ish to think it’s any­thing more than nos­tal­gia now. Being added to a blogroll was the orig­i­nal Team Fol­low­back. It was thrilling to join com­mu­ni­ties of like-mind­ed cul­tur­al crit­ics back then, but that quick­ly gave way to exact­ly the kind of paraso­cial rela­tion­ships we expe­ri­ence on social today.

So what can we do about it?

For my part, I strong­ly rec­om­mend invest­ing in owned con­tent and chan­nels to my clients for all the rea­sons enu­mer­at­ed above. Every­thing starts with con­tent. Always has. Where we’ve lost sight of things as com­mu­ni­ca­tors and mar­keters is believ­ing we have a turnkey solu­tion to suc­cess. It’s not as sim­ple as push­ing cam­paigns out their door like they’re on a con­vey­or belt and expect any­one to care.

Take it from me: bad con­tent, even with tremen­dous paid spend against it, does­n’t help you achieve your goals. There’s sim­ply too much of it for any­one to pay atten­tion. Addi­tion­al­ly, you need to have a pro­found under­stand­ing of your audi­ence and what it takes not just to reach them, but engage them in ways that are measurable.

Don’t feel defeat­ed. Take it as a chal­lenge, first to your­self and then to the online com­mu­ni­ty you hope to build. Start small. Do some­thing every day, or as often as you can, whether that’s writ­ing some­thing, or cre­at­ing visu­als that need a home on the inter­net. You can still build audi­ences for con­tent if you have a strong point of view. Most impor­tant­ly, believe it yourself.

Remapping My Digital Footprint

Twit­ter’s volatil­i­ty has me rethink­ing every­thing. Words like “inten­tion­al­i­ty” spring to mind, but also, I don’t need to be on the plat­form quite as much as I have been since 2008. It’s offer­ing an oppor­tu­ni­ty to rethink how I show up online and where I choose to cre­ate and con­sume con­tent. Not the first time, cer­tain­ly not the last, but one of those, you know, inflec­tion points that gives you a moment to pause and reflect.

Have I been doing it wrong the whole time? Maybe I have.

I’ll unpack that. I just logged into Feed­ly for the first time since Google Read­er shut down in 2013. It was like open­ing a bunker that closed the moment the war end­ed. There were blog posts wait­ing for me from cor­po­rate sites I used to fol­low for work and thou­sands of unread music and tech news items from near­ly a decade ago. It was rev­e­la­to­ry. It was the web we lost!

Flash for­ward a decade. We’ve been con­tend­ing with algo­rith­mic feeds at every turn. Even a glimpse of a pure­ly chrono­log­i­cal time­line made me thing: what if I just go back? I can’t pre­tend any­one will fol­low suit, but how can I make my own expe­ri­ence of the web better?

For starters, I’m going to sub­scribe to Feed­ly. I’m using Dis­cord to keep in touch with com­mu­ni­ties I’m part of on Twit­ter that are dis­pers­ing. I’m play­ing with Red­dit more inten­tion­al­ly. I’m lov­ing Patre­on and Mix­cloud and pod­casts. I’m obsessed with Tik­Tok. I just edit­ed way back on Insta­gram fol­lows and pro­duced a bet­ter expe­ri­ence. And I’ve joined Mastodon.

Mastodon? Isn’t that just Twit­ter all over again? Maybe it is? But maybe it’s not. I am being very selec­tive about how I build com­mu­ni­ty there. I’m not try­ing to build what I’m leav­ing on Twit­ter. I’ve built an audi­ence around loca­tions and jobs, first as a music crit­ic in Philadel­phia and then as a cor­po­rate com­mu­ni­ca­tor there and Detroit, across three indus­tries. The effect is like watch­ing those chunks of the inter­net per­form Google search­es in real time around the clock. It’s exhaust­ing. It’s self-inflict­ed. It’s over.

What I’m lov­ing about onboard­ing to Mastodon is how slow it is. I’m remind­ed of those ear­ly days on Twit­ter when you saw every­one’s @ replies and you held on for dear life. But this isn’t like that. I’m look­ing for some famil­iar faces and then look­ing at who they’re fol­low­ing and who’s fol­low­ing them. What I’m try­ing to do is build some­thing around my inter­ests in music and cul­ture and leav­ing work to LinkedIn. There’s a slow­er web if you want it!

If you’re feel­ing com­plete­ly wiped out by the expe­ri­ence of try­ing to repli­cate what you feel you’ve lost, build some­thing bet­ter slowly.

How Do You Game in 2022?

My pro­gres­sion into gam­ing was pret­ty straight­for­ward. I start­ed with a VIC 20, fol­lowed by a Com­modore 64, then an Apple IIGS, got a SEGA Gen­e­sis for Christ­mas junior year, then off to col­lege with a Hewlett Packard Pavil­lion. My PlaySta­tion 1 got me through grad school and a PS2 got me through years of under­em­ploy­ment. I dropped my Sony loy­al­ty, get­ting an Xbox 360 when we bought our first house. I upgrad­ed to a Forza Xbox One when I went to Ford. We added a PlaySta­tion 4 Pro a few Christ­mases ago, then to an Xbox Series X last spring. My youngest got a Nin­ten­do Switch some­where along the way, too. This Christ­mas we added a PlaySta­tion 5 and an Ocu­lus Quest 2.

It’s at once embar­rass­ing and over­whelm­ing to try to man­age four gam­ing sys­tems simul­ta­ne­ous­ly and eval­u­ate which games make sense for which plat­form. I’ve tried to sim­pli­fy things with Xbox Game Pass Ulti­mate as part of the Series X pur­chase. That’s been help­ful from a dis­cov­ery and every day play stand­point for count­less titles that would­n’t have been worth $60 or more to prove disappointing. 

Where things get trick­i­er is know­ing which Switch titles are actu­al­ly good for a 2nd grad­er. He’s a good read­er, but some of the games ask a lot of the play­er. Addi­tion­al­ly, try­ing to stay on top of PlaySta­tion exclu­sives may be a chal­lenge. I’ve his­tor­i­cal­ly been an EA devo­tee, so sto­ry-ori­ent­ed games are a bit of a blind spot for me. I’ve pur­chased so many games I nev­er had a hope of fin­ish­ing once we had kids. I did­n’t do a great job man­ag­ing across plat­forms on the last gen con­soles we had pri­mar­i­ly because friends had PlaySta­tion and the prospect of play­ing togeth­er online in the pan­dem­ic was attrac­tive. It has hap­pened maybe a hand­ful of times.

Final­ly, Ocu­lus Quest 2 is new ter­ri­to­ry alto­geth­er. I’ve been gen­er­al­ly bear­ish on VR with the excep­tion of some indus­tri­al appli­ca­tions. What I’ve seen in the last week are some pret­ty sim­ple games that are fine, if not espe­cial­ly immer­sive and fun. Look­ing at this list from the Verge, it looks like there are few com­pelling options for a sports-for­ward kid.

What’s com­ing in 2022 that’s worth look­ing out for?

Another Year Trapped in Amber

I was try­ing to find the right way to describe how 2021 felt and then I read this:

For Niko­las Tsamouta­l­idis, an assis­tant prin­ci­pal, the most vivid image of the post-pan­dem­ic stu­dent body was at lunch this year, when he saw ninth graders — whose last full year in school was sev­enth grade — prepar­ing to play “Duck, Duck, Goose.” “It’s like fifth or sixth graders,” he said, “but in big bodies.”

New York Times

There was a meme float­ing around Face­book this year that went direct­ly to the heart of this, name­ly, that the last “nor­mal” year for a 7th grad­er was 4th grade so the above hit me hard. I cer­tain­ly see it first­hand with my own kids, but rec­og­nize how adults have been impact­ed, too.

At the out­set of the pan­dem­ic, we quick­ly make some risk assess­ments around our pod. They weren’t per­fect; in fact it was com­plete­ly porous, but pared down nev­er­the­less. Our core group was real­ly three fam­i­lies. It has­n’t changed much since. We vis­it­ed Michi­gan twice this year and it was like step­ping back into our social lives.

At the out­set of the pan­dem­ic, it tru­ly felt like an oppor­tu­ni­ty to com­plete­ly reimag­ine our­selves and how we live our lives. It’s felt more like try­ing to get tooth­paste back into the tube, espe­cial­ly as new vari­ants emerge and dis­rupt our lives again and again. How can we as a soci­ety real­is­ti­cal­ly address these challenges?