Don’t loosen that valve.
You’ll never get it closed again.
I kind of like how so many people get news from memes.
We’ve all heard that saying. It goes something like, “those who do not learn history are doomed to repeat it.”
Wise words.
But does anyone know who said them?
That’s the problem with charisma-based news outlets. We have entered an era when the best news is all the most entertaining news.
I mean, who has the time? Who really has the time to learn anything relevant or pertinent anymore? All of the relevant stuff takes far too long to read and memorize and fact check. I’m talking all the information that we have an instinctive recognition that if we don’t have a reasonable competence in it, then we should not repeat it because we’ll get the “facts” wrong and risk undermining our own credibility.
Nobody has the time for that kind of information, because it does not pass the modern trial that all important news needs to pass in order to become repeatable. That trial comes in two parts. Part one is, “can I learn this piece of information before it becomes irrelevant, i.e., before everyone else knows it?” And part two is, “can I repeat it fast enough to jabber it out in the few seconds of silence that everyone else leaves while they have their drink up to their face?”
We don’t want news. We don’t want information. We want soundbites that are easy to remember and easy to repeat that will help us in our perpetual quest to be remembered as that guy who always knows interesting stuff at the party. Nevermind that you may be aware of how the social context of Tolstoy’s War and Peace pertains to the rise and overthrow of Saddam Hussein, if you can’t tell me where to find the five biggest statues of sexual organs in the world then I have no interest in talking to you.
Incidentally, I know who said that those who do not learn history are doomed to repeat it. You can look that one up pretty easily, if you want to. Which is the point of the quote, I think. History is the context of the present, and if you don’t know the reason why you got where you are then you might make the same mistakes as your forebears.
But, honestly, anyone could have said the thing about history. Am I right? As Mark Twain may as well have said, “Are you sure he said that? We live in the age of pithy. Anyone could have said that.”
And he may as well have said that, because his reputation for wit caused more misappropriation of quotation than anyone else I know about. You know all those internets memes that warn you against trusting everything you read on the internet because Ben Franklin said it or something? Well, that is far from a new phenomenon. If you go look up the origin of quotes that you always thought Mark Twain said, then you’ll discover that someone else said them earlier. It’s an ages-old practice. We don’t seem, as a species, to feel comfortable if it seems like random schmuck could come up with something good like, “History doesn’t repeat itself. But it does rhyme.” So we say that the wittiest person we know said it, which brings the universe into balance, and we can go on with our day and get back to our Game of Thrones marathon without worrying about things like the uncomfortable thought that if we, too, apply ourselves, we could say something worth repeating.
Because pithy sells. People say that “sex sells,” but it doesn’t. Sex takes way too long. What sells is “sexiness.” Sexiness sells because sexiness doesn’t require any commitment. I can just look at sexiness without any of the inconvenience of, like, doing anything.
Pithy is the same way. It isn’t important what’s said. It’s only important that I can repeat it to more people more quickly than the other guy, so that I can sabotage his attempt to become popular and in so doing become a more important person myself.
I get it, though. I shared a meme recently. I had a moment of suspending the autonomic eye-roll that always happens when I see these “threads that go plague” just long enough to think, “Okay, that one’s clever. Literally thousands of ‘plague threads’ later, and I have found a clever one. I mean, it isn’t Voltaire, but it’s definitely a bit brighter than meh.”
So I shared it on the Facebooks. And know what happened? A lot of people liked it and shared it. Or a lot for me, which means more than ten.
And for just a moment I had a glimpse of the gleam of the rush that is the unifying force that is participating in the Great Worm which is a meme turned into a plague. I could feel myself being drawn into a larger community of minds, all singing in a chorus to the mindless, faceless largeness which is the Hungry Void of Pop Culture.
I must confess, it was infectious — my favorite term for the mixed feeling of wanting to participate in something that I know, deep down, that I shouldn’t, ever since Maggie Smith or one of those lovely old English actresses said it in a way that only they could.
So I get it. I get this feeling of wishing to be included in something bigger. These nibbles of easily-repeated mind-opium provide a little rush of touching something bigger, which is all we all want, right?
So don’t mind me while I excuse myself from the cycle of spreading memes and design my little, historically-cognizant plan to manipulate the tidbits of information in order to redirect popular opinion in a direction that better favors me.
I’m sure my plan will fail anyway. It’s only based on manipulating information. Everyone is far too savvy for me to get away with it. Right?
It is “this meme is turning into a plague” isn’t it? Did I get that right?
Close enough.
Come adventure with me.
Here’s my email list, which I send emails to sometimes.
I’m on Patreon, where you can encourage me with regular money.
And on PayPal, where you can encourage me with irregular money (pounds sterling, ducats, dubloons…).
