Tag: Twitter

Happy Birthday, Kim!

This year, Hallowe’en is going to be different from any other time in living memory.  I know — I’ve had my problems with All Hallow’s Eve recently (It used to be one of my favourite celebrations until it got hijacked by a bunch of nitwits!) but I’m not one to kick somebody when they’re down.  So, rather than taking a few gratuitous shots at a holiday that’s having a hard time, I’ve decided to look elsewhere for something to write about — and I found it!

Once again, Kim Kardashian has gone out of her way to tell you – point blank — just how much she thinks it sucks to be you.  She gave herself a 40th birthday party torn out of the pages of Decadent Weekly.  This particular debauch was held on a private island, and all attendees were tested, quarantined, disinfected, sanitized, sterilized and washed — toes to tonsils — before they were allowed anywhere near the Queen of CyberSleaze.  Kim herself was in fine form, harnessed into a dress specially engineered to make the jiggly bits stand still and to showcase Silicon Valley.  She had enough makeup on that no virus could possibly fight its way through and walked on tottering heels as though she were following an imaginary plow.  (You go, girl!)  Most of the other women had that glazed look of one-too-many shots of Botox (no smiling or you’ll crack the paint!) and the men were, as usual, forgettable.  There were enough “candid” photos to satisfy even the tweeniest of tweens and so many bent-knee poses that I’m certain Barbie was jealous.  And the whole mess was documented on Twitter with a tease that there was more coming soon to a television near you. 

So what’s the big deal?  Just another set of cyber-celebrities strutting their stuff on Twitter – happens every day.  After all, everybody knows that, despite the hype, we’re NOT all in this together, and pandemic or no, rich celebrities are doing rich celebrity stuff all the time.  Ho-hum!  Nor was the backlash anything special.  Calling Kim Kardashian “tone-deaf” is like calling Kim Jong-un a dictator.  The Kardashian crowd doesn’t care what you think.  These are the folks who would recapture Free Willy and turn him into corsets and perfume if they thought it would give them five more minutes on Instagram.  Actually, the closest anyone got to criticism was Colin Hanks’ “Let them eat cake!”  But no, this wasn’t a modern Marie Antoinette, hobbling around a Tahitian Versailles.  It was more Louis XIV meets Wal-Mart.  One suspects the partygoers were drinking Dom Pérignon laced with Red Bull, dining on roast flamingo stuffed with M&Ms and playing Clue with a real murder.  It was all very nouveau gauche without it actually being nouveau anymore.  The festivities were clearly “been there/done that” tired.  And the “inner circle” looked like they were trying way too hard to convince the peasants that tawdry wasn’t a chore. 

In the 21st century, we’ve all seen lavish parties.  George and Amal rented the Grand Canal in Venice, for God’s sake!  A lot of celebrities own their own islands, but the Kardashians still have to rent theirs.  And the ship they’re taking these days has already sailed.  The once mighty Kardashian brand shares the spotlight with a B-list actress from Suits who wants to be the Queen of Southern California; Ellen, the world’s nastiest sycophant; and a pack of snapping rappers.  By Monday, Kimmie’s birthday bash will be all but forgotten.  Kardashian relevance is getting lost in the Social Media conflagration they created, but, more importantly, the Cult of Celebrity is losing its charm.  The world has moved on.  

I Refuse

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The world is large and it’s full of wonder, but it’s also an obstacle course of nasty.  This is the stuff that we know is unfair, stuff we know is a scam, stuff that insults our intelligence and our integrity.  In general, we just have to put up with this crap– or spend our entire lives cultivating an apoplectic ulcer.  However, there is one way to survive without being totally pissed off all the time: that’s to stop, take three deep breaths and refuse to participate.  Here are just a few things I refuse to do.  (Some of them are more serious than others.)

I refuse to use Gillette products – A while ago, the multinational boys at Gillette made a video that called me (and every other man) a bad friend, a bad father/brother/uncle, a bad role model, a bad mentor, generally a bad person, certainly a sexist and quite possibly a … anyway … you get the idea.  Their only purpose, as far as I can see, was to cash in on trending “toxic masculinity.”  So be it.  Well, I’ve been called a lot of names over the years, but I’ve never paid anybody for the privilege – and I’m certainly not going to start now.

I refuse to wear short pants – I know it’s uber-fashionable, but in ten years, we’re all going to laugh ourselves stupid at the photographs.  Here’s the deal.  Unless you’re a swimmer, a diver, a runner, a pole vaulter or an ice hockey player (think about it!) there is no logical reason for a grown man in the northern hemisphere to wear shorts to work.  Just sayin’!

I refuse to Tweet – My only mission in life is to communicate, and Twitter is the poster child of communication in the 21st century.  So what’s the problem?  Quite simply, Twitter is the meanest, nastiest, most judgemental, disrespectful, petty form of communication since Grog the Caveman grunted obscenities at the Neanderthals down the road.  History is going to look at our time and conclude most of our problems came from the horrible way we talked to each other – and I’m not willing to be part of that.

I refuse to eat liver – I have no philosophical quarrel with liver, but I ain’t going to eat it.  (This is my mother’s fault.)

I refuse to give money to charity — Sounds hard-hearted and it is, but in my defence, I’ve donated tons of clothing, furniture and food over the years.  I’ve recorded radio programs for the blind, cooked pancake breakfasts, swept floors, washed dishes, picked up garbage, sold raffle tickets and taught public speaking in a federal prison – all gratis.  When I get to the Gates of Valhalla, I’m not going to have anything to be ashamed of in the good works department.  My problem with giving cold hard cash to charity is there’s always a middleman somewhere, and no one is ever willing to tell me how much he’s taking off the top.

And finally

I refuse to be lectured by teenagers – I’ve always worked on the premise that the ideas of young people are fresh.  They look at the world with an untrained eye, which gives them a lot of latitude — and that’s a good thing.  However, I’m not interested in being berated for my many failures by someone whose biggest accomplishment so far is mastering puberty.  The notion that kids bring just as much to the table as the experts who’ve studied the problem for years is ludicrous.  Here’s how it works: if your kitchen is flooded, who are you going to call to fix the water pipes – some child fresh out of middle school or a professional plumber?  The choice is yours, but I’m going with the plumber.

I’m Crap At Social Media

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I love Social Media.  I think it’s one of the coolest benefits of living in the 21st century.  It’s as if the Internet has given us a gigantic cocktail party.  Unfortunately, I’m crap at it.  The problem is, for the life of me, I don’t understand how it works.  Yeah, yeah, yeah!  I know the techno-gabble that keeps it together – you post, I post, somebody else posted, we all click “like” or “share” or some such other thing and walk away happy – but after that, I’m lost.  And I truly believe that’s why I’ve never actually been invited to the party.

First of all, I’m old enough to remember pen and paper.  This is a major disadvantage.  Back in the day, when you had something to say, you had to stop, take a minute, think about it, and then take pen in hand.  This forced even the stupidest among us to try and present a comprehensive idea and back it up with a cohesive argument.  Social Media is a lot faster than that.  So, as a consequence, I’m just not intellectually prepared to take a Facebook meme, an Instagram photo or a 140 character treatise on the evils of supply-side economics all that seriously.

Secondly, there’s just so damn much of it.  Social Media is everywhere – Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, Reddit, Pinterest – God Almighty!  It never ends.  The sheer volume of relentless information is overwhelming.  No wonder people are wandering around the streets like zombies, thumb-numbing their telephones.  Personally, I don’t have enough hours or energy to sort through the Cute Cat Videos, the angry Trump Tweets and recipes for pan-fried kale to get to the good stuff – forget respond.

And finally, I’m not absolutely certain I want to spend a lot of time chasing Social Media.  I’m all for sharing ideas and discussing them ad infinitum.  (I’m usually the last man standing at real cocktail parties.)  However, for my money, people who think what they had for lunch (or where they had it) is noteworthy, need to reread their Copernicus.  Most of the trivia of everyday existence is – uh – trivial, and recording it across Cyberspace doesn’t give it any extra significance.

It’s not Social Media’s fault I can’t figure it out.  The fact is, in human years, Social Media is still a teenager, and we all know what an emotional and intellectual game of hopscotch that is.  So, for the time being, go in peace, Social Media.  Maybe, in a few years, I’ll be a little smarter and you’ll be a little older — and then you and I can have an adult conversation.