Monday, 27 July 2009

• Currently In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto By Michael Pollan see related

  An Update on America's Status

  The one website that I visit immediately after turning on my computer every morning is Facebook.com.  Like most Americans who are alive, I’m fucking addicted to this site.  I think “Facebooking” is fun!  Presently, I have 290 people on my friends list and, like most people who are on Facebook, I actually care about only 5% of them (approximately 14.5 people) in any genuine regard.   Nevertheless, I can literally spend all day looking at ALL my “friends’” pictures and reading ALL my “friends’” profiles. 

  Because of cell phones and the internet, information is ridiculously accessible.  This, in and of itself, is not such a bad thing.  Information is generally good.  It’s awfully convenient to be able to do things like look up movie times or locate the nearest Roscoe’s House of Chicken and Waffles whenever you want to.  But what’s happening right now is that we’re in an era in which the barrage of information that we’re inundated with is altering our perception of self-worth.  This became blatantly evident to me the other day when I was reading a Facebook Mobile status update that said, “Barney noticed a lot of Harry Potter campers and their large beach umbrellas at a movie theater on the way to work.”  This prompted me to say, “So what?” out loud in the middle of work.

  Have you ever wondered why Paris Hilton is so popular, or why you even know who the hell she is?  I suspect that you have.  As far as anyone knows, she’s not an actress (even though she’s been in movies), a model (even though she has modeled), or a businesswoman (even though she has a business).  The only reason we know about her is because we can know about her.  Her rise to popularity can be attributed to a shitty amateur pornographic video that went viral on the internet and media and now she is unstoppable celebutante juggernaut.  Her popularity is correspondent with the amount of information there is about her, and her worth is directly proportional to the amount of attention we give her.

  In this age of real-time alerts, information is everywhere.  Everyone wants to be informed, but everyone wants to be the informer as well.  Behind every pointless tweet on Twitter or asinine status update on Facebook lies some egotistical notion that your existence is of some significance to someone else.   The current technological revolution has revealed that we all have a secret desire to be a little bit famous (at least to a certain degree).  The age of mass communication has made it easy for our friends, family, coworkers or other (otherwise) uninteresting people seem interesting.  We’re becoming Paris Hilton, whether we want to or not.

  I’m not sure if there is any morality involved in this, but this yearning for quasi-fame just doesn’t seem right.  In all honesty, I’m really not that interested if you’re hungry and planning on eating at Pinkberry for lunch with your douchebag coworkers.  I couldn’t care less if you’re going to see the Killers this weekend with your damn “hubby” (or “wifey”).  I don’t even fucking care if you just failed your final exam in organic chemistry.  I really don’t give a damn about you or your self-indulgent attempts to be the next Paris Hilton.

  But I know you give a damn about me and that’s why you’re reading this. 

  I’m not a celebutante.  I swear.

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