3 Factors Contributing to Backlash Culture

Another article addressing fandom vs. art. Here I’d argue there’s more nuance to the anti-Ghostbusters fervor. It’s certainly part sexism–geekdom, up until the mid-90’s, had been a boys club. JK Rowling is due no small amount of credit for evening out the geeky playing field over the past 20 years. A new influx of females into a once not only all male arena but an arena of males who also infamously do not interact with the female gender is bound to create friction. Note this fear is actually of “mainstream” females, who have increasingly embraced genre entertainment. There were always girls, to some degree, in geek culture. But now there are ones who wear makeup, are thin as rails, cosplay the way cheerleaders dress at Halloween, and have the full range of social skills. There’s an inherent distrust on the part of the male geek of these kinds of people. The jocks are Captain America fans, too, now, but no geek boy is going to pull the muscular guy in the Superman costume’s card. They’re inherently afraid of overtly masculine men.

This leads to the second factor: the gentrification of nerd culture. The “mainstreaming” of nerd culture can be paralleled pretty readily with the patterns of gentrification. The influx of neurotypicals into what was once a safe haven for the atypical can be likened to middle-class kids touring impoverished areas as their own private rumspringa. Gentrification often leads to the ironic situation where the minority being pushed out, whatever that may be, attacks another, newer minority as opposed to focusing their anger on the actual invading force. See the attacks on gays in New Orleans’s Marigny/Bywater neighborhoods instead of attacks on Yuppies, and the anger at immigrants when poor whites are displaced from their jobs by corporations they allowed to buy whole towns.

Finally, the last factor is the manufactured backlash as part of reverse marketing psychology. This isn’t being talked about widely, but then current marketing strategies that are obvious once you notice them are effective because no one’s mentioning them. Working up an internet backlash is the best marketing tool on social media. There are several ways to do it. You can just hone in on one racist or sexist tweet against your product and pretend it’s a movement. Boom! Instant backlash-backlash that far outweighs the initial controversy and your film/toy/whatever is trending for the next six months. If there isn’t a tweet, a fake account can be made in seconds. If you want it to happen more organically, one can simply edit the US trailers poorly so as to make your film look less funny than it is. Either way, complaints are lumped into an -ist category, and anyone against that will fight them, all of this regardless of the film’s quality. Spite is a strong impulse. Also, one could, say, continuously chop up their films into hot messes and release better cuts on video, ensuring sales on the backend. If I know this, the marketing firms know this.

The internet, its economic ramifications on the entertainment industries, and the conversion of news media into an entertainment industry in the post-9/11 world has elevated opinion to the level of fact, fan fiction to the level of the licensed remake, and otherwise faded the divide between us and authority. This is good in a way. Like punk rock, indie rock, alternative rock, the blues, hip-hop, etc in music, the independent film movements over the years, and the initial, pre-Disney explosion of Marvel Studios, it takes art back to its roots and out of the exclusive hands of elite corporate shills. At the same time, it has its drawbacks. When it comes to art, the audience doesn’t know what it wants until it gets it. If it starts to dictate content, the pool becomes just as stagnant as when a corporate entity is in charge. All food becomes junk food when customer satisfaction is all that matters. Art for art’s sake is masturbation. There must be a balance between audience, artist, experimentation, and to a certain extent, business. Audiences like to be challenged, they just don’t know they do, just as children run from what they fear and simultaneously love to be scared.

But… If you aren’t doing something original anyway, what’s the difference? If all you have to offer is a product, the audience will rightfully take ownership. The lack of involvement from the original artists in the Ghostbusters film is the most important aspect. Announcing their cameos and tacit approval helped a little, but they weren’t creating it. A sequel is to continue the work. A remake, reboot, prequel, etc. is a bit more of an erasure of the original work and carries an implicit “we are improving on the original” in its DNA, even if unintended. Without the original artists’ involvement, it instantly changes states in the consumer’s mind. Now, it is a product, and products, like shampoo or a Burger King meal or a Toyota Camry, are custom-order. In a capitalist society, we collect products and display them around ourselves to represent our individual identities–increasingly nebulous things in the Internet Age. I want my car red, my burger with no lettuce, my shampoo moisturizing, and my Superman films happier than my Batman films.

TV is currently where video art is being made. Stranger Things can be criticized as a one giant homage, but so can the films its homaging–all slices of life that called back to the B-horror, science fiction, and 50’s childhoods of their creators, now in turn being called back to by a show set in their heyday–but is still its own intellectual property. Other Netflix and cable programs can be said to be roughly the same percentage of adaptations to new material and so-called “adult” drama or video literature as film was 20 years ago. Visual art has moved from the short story phase into the novel phase, and it’s not going back.

As far as restoring balance to the film as an artistic, if still predominantly commercial medium, there’s only one way out I can see. If you produce consistently satisfying art and stay true to the source in spirit if not in letter, then the audience eventually surrenders. Notice no one bitch about James Gunn’s changes to Guardians of the Galaxy, or the Russo Brothers’ alterations to Winter Soldier and Civil War storylines. Sure, there are some sticklers as there always will be, but for the most part, they’ve gone over like the original Lord of the Rings films. Faithful where appropriate, altered to make better films and to make real artistic statements as films. Warner Brothers, meanwhile, gets eviscerated for making admittedly horribly edited films, but I’d argue mostly for not respecting the spirit of the source materials while simultaneously having nothing to say. That makes you a product, and we are far less forgiving of those mistakes.

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Trendkilling: How All Mass Murderers Are the Same

Been talking about this with a friend for a few months, but have been reticent to say anything. We’ve had a myriad of mass shootings in the past couple of years, and whenever one takes place, the press and thus everyone gets distracted by either their own political agenda or the alleged agenda of the killer: girls rejected them, abortion is murder, Daesh allegiance, mommy didn’t love him, Black Lives Matter. None of it makes sense, however. We’ve got a single epidemic with a thousand causes? Doesn’t seem likely. If we want to solve this problem, we need to search for commonalities, links, and shared causes rather than using each individual tragedy as an excuse to spout off about one subject or another.

At the end of the day, these are all just flashy suicides. The pet cause each killer trumpets and their targets can be found somewhere to the right of your Facebook Timeline in the bar marked “Trending.”

Dylan Klebold, the Columbine killer who arguably made what I’m going to call “Trendkilling” trendy, wasn’t bullied. He was charismatic and well-liked (though not deeply, because no one knew him), just like every psychopath. He only claimed to be bullied because he knew the hysteria it would cause after his death. He knew it would get us to become bullies to the bullied because we’d see them all as potential killers. The shooter who claimed he was mad at women for rejecting him killed more men than women and was not a member of any Men’s Rights association as was claimed. The one who attacked a black church while wearing a swastika was, just a month prior (just long enough to be around when he started planning his elaborate death), a regular attendant at the church and friend to his black fellow parishioners. The BLM sniper, through shooting police in a county that had famously reformed their police department and lowered brutality, likewise accomplished the opposite of helping the movement he claimed. At this point, every mass killer has to know that the result of their attack will be a loss of sympathy for whatever cause they claim and an increase in mayhem. We must conclude, then, that this is the true goal.

That Trending Bar, those things we obsess over or yell at one another about all day, is a great blueprint for planning an attack. It guarantees headlines and lengthy arguments. Particularly if you design your attack not to make sense, like claiming an underdog movement as you commit an atrocity designed to erode sympathy for that movement. The cognitive dissonance ensures all sides of the discussion to follow will be defensive and confused in equal measure.

Violent psychopaths and sociopaths, both homicidal and suicidal (often all in one), all have one thing in common: they can’t connect. By definition, they lack the social skills for deep friendships and the basic empathy we take for granted that allows us to see ourselves in others all day. Absent of it is a lonely place to exist. Just because you can’t connect doesn’t mean you don’t want to. The inability may drive one to suicide one week, but homicide the next as one oscillates between hating oneself and envying those who possess and take for granted what for them must seem a superpower. Now, let someone going through this see that headline and experience the fallout of a trending tragedy around them — look, everyone’s talking about the killer, not just his name, but his deeds. He matters. The whole world cares that he existed, even if only for one shining moment. Subconsciously, this has to be a motivating factor. Why go out when you can go out with a bang? Why die apart from everyone, the same as yesterday, when you can make a connection in the only way you know how right before? When you know they’ll be talking about you for weeks to come?

In the past, the way to make headlines and manufacture connections when one didn’t possess empathy or the basic human tools to connect was to be a serial killer. Like any addiction, it starts with one small death to feel power in a world you feel apart from and powerless in, moving up the food chain and toward ritualization. All, though, really in service of the headline. Of mattering. Of connecting with thousands all at once, and then ending your miserable existence. It only makes sense in the Social Media age that killing one person at a time wouldn’t be enough to properly connect anymore. You have to reach hundreds in one second and die instantly thereafter.

The adage “Don’t feed the trolls” comes to mind. What are trolls but the comments section’s minor sociopaths? Gaining power from our frustration, and mania with our indifference. The only way to stem the tide of mass killings then is to stop reporting them, something unlikely to happen. Ubiquity normalizes behavior, no matter how condemned. Articles featuring details, not just the names of the killers, but their deeds, fuel the perception that these acts are a viable solution to their problem. But we cannot ignore the deaths of large numbers of victims to help prevent the next one. Silence isn’t a message that can be sent. What then?

The only thing I have to offer is this: stop letting the killers dictate the discussion. They aren’t doing it because they’re MRA or BLM or IS or Pro-life or Goth or unpopular. They’re doing it because they want to kill and they want to die. They want those things because they’re sick and alone and disconnected from humanity (an increasing condition due to the internet, just as Industrialization did at the turn of last Century). So maybe say, “Another sad loner, estranged by the common disconnect experienced by human beings during a paradigm shift, committed suicide via terrorism today,” rather than feeding into the ideological misdirection or making anyone famous. Maybe notice that as the false, addictively unsatisfactory, corn syrup saccharine of social media rose, so did the amount of disconnect. As the disconnect rises, so do Trendkillings. And a Trendkilling is just a flashy suicide.

You’d Turn It Off Halfway: A Review of Batman: The Killing Joke Animated

Another mixed bag from DC/WB. I feel as I imagine I would if Zack Snyder had directed this. The parts that are right are exactly right. The parts that are wrong are dumbfounding.

People need to stop adding to and changing Alan Moore stories as if they’re smarter than he is. They aren’t. His stories are not unadaptable, as is sometimes said — they are impossible to alter. Every element depends on every other element. If you add things, the story becomes unbalanced. The additions shift the focus of the story so that this was not Batman: The Killing Joke, any longer. This was “Batgirl: The Difference Between Batman & Joker’s Fucking Techniques.”

I am a fan of Brian Azzarello. His Wonder Woman run was the only “New 52” book I truly loved.  That being said, almost no one, barring perhaps Grant Morrison, is either smart enough or qualified to add to or change a Moore narrative. This would appear to include Azzarello.

I have to assume the changes were studio-mandated because they make so little sense from a writing standpoint. The shape of the DC logo and amount of time it takes to animate indicates these additions are from the Batman v Superman decision-making era. In the wake of a controversy over a recent variant cover, DC/WB policy seems to have swung toward  the “Joker literally raped Barbara” misinterpretation. Let me not mince words: it is not in the text, plain and simple.

Joker metaphorically rapes Barbara with a bullet. The end. If Alan Moore writes a rape, he lets you know. If Joker raped Barbara to get to Gordon, guess what the photos in the carnival would’ve depicted? Otherwise, the Joker would not rape someone he’d already made sure couldn’t feel it.

If you have to alter the text to support your thesis by removing ambiguity, ambiguity was purposeful. There is no support in any continuity or any version of the Joker that he has either literal sexual intercourse or interest in such. The continual joke of he and Harley’s relationship is a marked lack of interest in her affections in favor of his relationship with Batman. It’s both a gay joke and a reference to both hero and villain’s Sherlock & Moriarty-style asexuality. Joker doesn’t fuck. You can add all the prostitute scenes implying he’s a regular poon hound you want. You can literally have him scream, “I swear, I love the pussy!” But the idea that TKJ‘s Joker is a regular with prostitutes that he doesn’t kill shortly thereafter is laughable. Even Caesar Romero’s Joker would’ve killed those girls. Joker kills. Joker maims. That is how he “gets off.”

The Joker and Batman have a sadomasochistic, homoerotic relationship, one of several in Batman. Warner and DC’s newfound conservatism seems intent on overcompensating for this interpretation. Their prevailing technique is to have him screw each female cast member on a rooftop. It won’t work, though. Also, Batgirl is more of his niece, and it was gross. Leave the Elektra complexes to Daredevil, please. (As an addendum to this, see this article. I believe Harley’s over-sexualization is part and parcel of a campaign to “de-gayify” the entire Batman mythos in the New 52 era of DC/WB.)

“Well, Doug, what did you want them to do? They had to flesh out Batgirl and make a feminist message and add to the runtime.”

Twenty minutes of thought gave me: Batgirl fights Harley in the opening. Flashing back to Harley’s origins, we parallel the “one bad day” theme. Since Harley’s bad day is when Joker drives her mad, it reinforces all the primary themes. Batgirl vs. Harley also mirrors the Batman vs. Joker plot. This gives Barbara a glimpse into her own future. In the end, she quits rather than letting it consume her. “It’ll never end,” she says to Bruce, “until one of us dies.” Her resignation sets up Batman rethinking his own approach with Joker. Cue rain. If you insist, let them have sex. But even for faithfulness, this should be older Barbara, in her late thirties. It’s two adult equals who’ve worked together a long time. She’s arriving at the moment where she needs to decide whether this is gonna be the rest of her life. Writing Batman into a mansplaining, misogynist role that Barbara overcomes only forces the actual Killing Joke to undermine and reverse that message later in the film.

Each addition took away from the whole. The positives, however, are that unlike The Hobbit films, when all the additions are cut out, it leaves a near perfect Killing Joke adaptation with tour de force swan song performances by Mark Hamill and Kevin Conroy.

The Real Problem

Would a white man of his age, dress, look, and size, doing the same thing, with a gun in his pocket in an open carry state, be dead? The answer is no. Everything else you have to say is irrelevant because it accomplishes nothing. Next.

Let’s discuss why you defend lethal authority automatically rather than empathizing with the dead, why you empathize with rapists easier than rape victims, why you defend the strong’s right to abuse over the weak’s right to live life unmolested. Giving police the benefit of the doubt in all cases is a weakness to the authoritarian spirit of fascism. You are a fascist. You are weak and afraid. You will fall in behind anyone who looks like you and appears strong, though their strength is merely high volume masking their weakness, their fear. You will perform atrocities. You will blame it on your victims as you do them. You will blame it on your leaders once you are stopped. Neither will be true.

Or…

You could extend your pathetic excuse for empathy past those who look like cousins. You could realize every self-serving impulse you have is not only bad for the community, it’s bad for you, too. Paying for someone else’s schooling makes your neighborhood a better place to live, and lowers your crime rate. Housing the homeless and helping the mentally ill keeps your children safe from mass shooters, serial killers, and their own darkness. Paying people a living wage opens up job opportunities for everyone else, including you. You do these things with something called taxes, or as I prefer: duties.

Altruism is good for the economy. Being nice gets you ahead in business. These are proven, tested realities. Selfish behavior only gives the illusion of personal gain, when in fact, you’re self-sabotaging. Helping others literally helps you, and not just in the long run. It does so right now. Immediately. Psychopaths know this; they are very smart. You don’t see highly manipulative people walking around, being raging assholes. They pretend to be good, and in fact, are measurably good to everyone around them who they deem strategically significant. That’s what people mean when they say “charismatic.” It’s just making people feel good about themselves, and about them. They pay their rent and take care of their kids, help their neighbors and reward good work, all with no emotional compass to guide them. Why? Because being good is the key to success, you dumb shits.

You are not a psychopath, statistically speaking. But learn from them. You don’t have to try to be nice to your family and friends; that comes automatically. But strangers? Know that it is to your immediate benefit to be a good person. Not because of the afterlife, not because in ten years you’ll see results, not because you’ll feel good from being nice. Because when people like you, you get ahead. When you’ve taken care of your worst-off, they cease to be a burden and begin to pull their weight. It is in your self-interest to be altruistic, and it doesn’t work both ways. STOP BEING FUCKING STUPID. START BEING NICE. Good night.

…Isn’t She?

I think the majority of my life was spent mourning Andie’s decision to leave Duckie at the end of Pretty in Pink. I know, listen–I’m borderline something or other. It’s only upon watching the end of it last night that I remembered she doesn’t do that at all. Duckie sends her away. I got twice as upset at that. I even went so far as thinking about how in real life, she’d have been choosing James Spader, because Andrew McCarthys doesn’t exist.

Then, today, waiting for the bus, the similarities between Duckie and Andie’s dad, Jack, all came together and I realized something that’s probably been, like a lot of things in my life, obvious to everyone but me. That movie isn’t the story of a girl and some rich kid getting together despite their differences. It’s the story of two men of different ages letting go of women who don’t love them. Duckie of Andie and Jack of Andie’s mom who left.

6 Rules for Epic Television

We live in the new Golden Age of long format television. With Game of Thrones starting its penultimate season without a net so to speak, it’s a good time to review. What lessons have we gleaned in hindsight from the era of the Telenovel?

The format began in the Nineties. Proto-epics like Twin Peaks, Babylon 5The X-FilesBuffy the Vampire Slayer, Star Trek: Deep Space 9, and The West Wing set the stage. It entered its Golden Age in the early Aughts as Lost and Battlestar: Galactica started, even as many of the older shows remained on air.

There are only a few shows worth discussing, since most never finished. It pains me not to include a show like Carnivale, for instancebut without an ending, we cannot judge it. Discounting shows like Walking Dead with no end in sight: The Sopranos, The Wire, Deadwood, Lost, Battlestar: Galactica, Mad Men, Sons of Anarchy, Breaking Bad, Justified, Game of Thrones, and soon, The Leftovers. 

Of the shows that got to end, few did so well. Babylon 5, The West Wing, The Wire, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Breaking Bad, Dollhouse, and Justified had the highest level of viewer satisfaction, give or take. Of that lot, The Wire and Breaking Bad fared best. Those two caused the least bickering over their endings, and thus their entire runs. Top contenders for most frustrating are Lost, Twin Peaks, and The Sopranos, with X-Files Battlestar a distant fourth & fifth. 

So, what lessons can we learn from the successes and failures in the medium to better construct future long form television?

6. Rewatch Your Own Show

This one is simple. Before a finale — and before a last season or even an important death — the writers’ room should binge watch their own show. Watch your own show like a viewer. Take notes. Are there any dangling plot threads? Any plot holes? Writers should see these as opportunities. Closing them with your ending can make you look like a genius. Whedon’s programs are good at tying up loose ends in the final seasons. A dangling frustration like a lie a character tells or a simple case of an actor playing two parts transform into amusing pay-offs. What are the recurring themes, even if unintended? What are your characters’ tragic flaws? Their saving graces? A writer may think he knows these things because he designed them a certain way, but between performance, your own subconscious, and the audience, things aren’t so simple. Check the message boards. See if there are theories cooler or more sensical than your plan. Consider altering course. Speaking of…

5. Don’t Change Your Twist Because a Fan Guesses It

Lost, like many of these shows, had a fervent fanbase who shared theories on the Internet. With so many people sharing information, someone’s bound to stumble into a theory about Jon Snow or Libby’s past that actually lines up. There were several instances, like on Treme or the film Terminator: Salvation where a guess or a leak made them change the plot. First, if your plot isn’t more important than its surprises, it needs a rewrite anyway. Second, don’t be spiteful with your most loyal fans. They’ve paid close attention. Your story makes sense to them. Nothing will be more pleasing to this personality type than being right. Besides, your new ending is likely to be worse than the one you wrote first (unless it isn’t… if you come up with something better, then run with it).

4. Know the Point So You Don’t Miss It

Does your show have a point? It needs one. Seriously. This isn’t a sitcom or a Spider-man comic where the point is to never end. Epics should know they will one day end (hell, all TV shows should as long as we’re using real actors who age and die). Even Seinfeld got shit for its ending, and it was about nothing.

An epic, meanwhile, needs an epic point. Something not Philosophy 101 or something you picked up from your Yoga instructor. You know, do some research on the higher end. Have something to say. And then, and please, for the love of god and all that is holy — say it. You don’t have to make a character say it out loud. The theme should have been recurring, even if it wasn’t planned.

Despite the abrupt stop of Whedon’s Angel, its last scene kept the theme the show had repeated for five years: evil is eternal, but only wins when good stops fighting. So it ends with Angel continuing to fight. It ends with him saying “Let’s go to work.” For that matter, each of your characters has a point: a recurring theme to their behavior and motivations that should have a finale of its own.

In Babylon 5, Straczynski solidified these points with literal promotions. If a character was an attache, a character ended the show an ambassador; if an ambassador, an emperor. In B5 and West Wing, the shows also end giving us the impression that another epic is only just beginning. All while giving us glimpses of the larger ramifications of our characters actions. The point of us watching.

In Lost, Kate runs and people die because of her, but often goes against her nature because of Jack. Jack is a man refusing to believe in anything. Locke is a man who believes without question. In the end, Locke’s faith gets him killed, Jack must embrace magic, and Kate… runs? In one of the last scenes of Lost, Jack gives Hurley Jacob’s power. Kate and Sawyer then look on as Jack jumps into the magic cave to become the smoke monster (God that sounds awful). Thematically, though, Kate would leap in instead, before he had completed this ceremony. Her love for Jack drives her to act against type, but in the end, she will run, and Jack will have to chase her. In other words, Kate should’ve become the smoke monster, with Jack remaining as Jacob. Sawyer then, as liar, becomes Ben.

3. Worldbuilding, Worldbuilding, Worldbuilding

Know the answers to all the questions about your concept. Michael Straczynski, Aaron Sorkin, Vince Gilligan, or David Simon may plan their series’ every beat ahead of time, but this isn’t necessary. What is necessary is if you ask a question as part of the plot, that you know the answer. Ron Moore had no idea until the start of each season who was going to be a Cylon. While this freed them to make decisions based on drama, it also made the whole thing a house of cards that swayed in the wind toward the end.

The same improv technique holds true of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks, though one may forgive Peaks, given that it is the first show of the post-Hill Street Blues era to sport a series long arc. It was unheard of, before Babylon 5 for an American show to even have a long form arc since the shows had to go on indefinitely. Moving forward, though, we see how this cannot go on.

One need not plan every move the characters make through the end, but one should know the concrete realities that are true before your story begins. Realities such as which of your characters are robots, who killed the dead body in your pilot, or what the nature of your island is. If this were a show about drug dealers, it would be poor writing not to know where the main character was born. Why should we hold a science fiction or surrealist tale to a different standard, especially if it is purporting to be more literary?

One of many lessons from J. Michael Straczynski is that of the “trap door” character. This is a character who can fill the role in the larger story of another character should that actor leave. Doing things like this during the story development phase can make it easier to weave a whole story.

2. The Longer It Takes to Answer a Mystery, the Bigger, Weirder, or More Personal the Answer

One of the better lessons of Whedon on Buffy or Straczynski on B5 is that if you bring up a question like, say, what a Vorlon looks like beneath their space suits, the more people bring it up as an unanswered mystery, the weirder it needs to be to be satisfying. Straczynski excelled at this because he already knew the answers, and so knew which ones to hold back.

Whedon excelled at plugging invisible plot holes like who created the Slayers with thematic material. The longer the answer took, the more intimate, the more relevant to the show’s arc, and the more unexpected or strange the answer. In contrast, a show like Lost would hold off on revealing how Locke broke his back, but not answer the question to level at which they’d made us wait.

1. Avoid Shaggy Dogs At All Costs

The biggest fear when watching long form arcs is that one has wasted literal days of one’s life listening to what amounts to a Shaggy Dog Story. For those not familiar, a Shaggy Dog is a long, meandering tale full of details that turn out not to matter, culminating in an anticlimax.

Lost is the prototypical version of this mistake, having gone into deep detail for each of a massive cast, only to end with few of them mattering. Several characters trumpeted to the level of a series keystone came up only in passing by the end. Many plot lines brought up over the series as integral to the show ended up either mundane in solution or unrelated to the larger arc. The ending itself was a cheat. While the entire show was not a dream, the entire last season taking place half in the afterlife is still a waste of the audience’s time. There is no reason to take several hours (let alone the entire series) to arrive at the last minutes of that show. When writers improvise mysteries, they raise questions that are interesting. When they plan them, they are instead withholding interesting answers.

What can we take away from this? All this, in the end, comes down to worldbuilding. When the storyteller knows her world, she can answer mysteries with clarity and import. She can ensure the right characters survive. She knows what to emphasize, but also what to leave out. She doesn’t have to cheat, and she doesn’t leave plot holes. If she does, she knows which character will dive into them.

Hemi Orange Is a Shade of Red

It will be interesting to watch, now that there’s little left but the entertainment, whether the New Left (the Old Right), upon entering the Warhawk, corporate-defending, surveillance-ridden, union-busting administration they will soon be electing into power, will, like the Right during W., dig their heels in deeper the more the administration is challenged. Essentially, will the Left have its own Tea Party after Clinton’s first term?

Cognitive dissonance is the most gaping exploit in the human operating system. It dictates that once the human mind has sufficiently bonded with an ideological side, it will only believe in it harder when presented with evidence it is wrong. This is how cults work; this is how political parties work; this is how religions work (particularly extremism); this is how bigotry works. Or rather, it is the way in which we are broken that allows these things to continue.
 
This is how high functioning marketing, like that of Starbucks or McDonald’s works. They teach you a new, contradictory and baffling set of rules to follow while under their roof (a small is a tall, a medium is a grande [which means large], a large is a veinte [which means 20, in a different language]). Then they hit you with a narcotic like caffeine, or acceptance, or the freedom from being corrected or argued with. Then, when you go somewhere else and slip up and use their doublespeak (order McNuggets at a Burger King), they correct you, and you dislike the outsider for it, rather than your programmers. You sink further into the ideology that you belong to the group that understands your language (even complaints about Apple can only really be understood by Apple buyers).
 
The scariest part is that the most successful strategies in the current age rely on this model, this exploit. This backdoor into the human mind. Some, like facebook or google, incidentally create these echo chambers as part of their customer service model. They stop showing you contradicting opinions, with your help and guidance, until all there is are the sounds of agreement between people who can’t tell they’re growing more and more extreme, and more and more sensitized to the Other, until the smallest disagreement becomes a heresy, and a valid, but different, opinion on methodology becomes an act of terror upon the group.