I read this article from the Weekly Standard on the My Little Pony / Dudes phenomenon (ht: Challies)
The author tries to track the origins of the “Brony” (that is, bros-who-like-my-little-pony) movement, and a theme emerges. Several times, it seems, the idea emerges: liking My Little Pony genuinely is a way to fight cynicism and (unsaid, but my inference) hipster irony.
Now, look… I dislike my own cynicism. I’m not a huge fan of your cynicism either. I’m a big fan of genuine. I’m trying to do that better.
But, why my little pony? It still plays like an inside joke that you haven’t let the rest of us in on. In the words of Michael Scott, “I love inside jokes. I’d like to be a part of one someday.” But I’m not that interested in being part of an inside joke about My Little Pony.
The answer to cynicism isn’t to find something dumb and like it genuinely. It’s to find great things and love them genuinely. It’s okay for those to be things that other people don’t think are great. If it was four or five dudes telling me how great My Little Pony is, I might be convinced that it was genuine. But when it’s 12.4 million, I’m convinced it’s about joining a movement of people trying to fight cynicism, rather than actually just trying to fight cynicism. There is a difference, an important one.
It’s good to like things for their own sake. But, when you decide to like My Little Pony so that you can stick it to the cynical masses, you’re not liking My Little Pony for its own sake. You’re liking it for the sake of sticking it to the cynical masses. See what you did there?
Uncategorized
Some thoughts…
when your kids are sick.
Hope I didn’t grab the colander by mistake.
I Don't Want to Fight for Your Content
I posted this to Facebook a while ago:
My father-in-law very kindly expressed the fact that he certainly had no idea what I meant.
So, here goes:
Large newspapers and — increasingly — small newspapers have begun enacting a technological paywall, a wall between consumers on the internet and the bulk of their content. Different papers do it different ways. Most allow you to read a certain number of free articles within a 30 day period; after you’ve read those articles (commonly 10 articles, see the New York Times and the Toronto Star, for instance), you can’t read additional stories from that paper unless you sign up and pay for an electronic subscription.
As I said originally, I get it. Reporting the news costs money. Good opinion / editorial content costs even more. More than ever, personalities draw visitors. Charging those visitors for access is one way to stay in business.
But is it a good way? I feel like as technology develops, we often make decisions to use it without asking that extra, “Is it good?” Newspapers don’t appear to have asked that about paywalls. They’re doing it, not realizing that they’re driving away any chance of younger consumers ever deciding to subscribe to the print content.
I wonder whether some candor might work instead? Something like: “Hey, you’re reading here a lot. Our cookies say that you’ve enjoyed 258 articles on our site this year. Would you consider subscribing? It’ll help us to continue providing the great content you’ve found here so far.” That’s so crazy, it just might work.
Write down your victories
If you’re the type of person who is given to despair (i.e., a human being), you should take care to write down the victories you win. Even the small ones.
Why? Because despair comes. In those moments, the human memory becomes incredibly, remarkably small. You will not be able to remember the victory you won the day before. If your battle is trying to focus and write, for instance, you may write 800 great words today, but when you sit down tomorrow to wage battle, you may be entirely incapable of remembering that those 800 words ever happened. You need to record somewhere, somewhere easy to reference, that there was a battle, and that you won it.
God knows human beings are like that. He commands (and commends) all kinds of memorials, both with His people in the Old Testament and with His people in the new testament. There’s the story of Joshua and the people of Israel crossing the Jordan:
“Take twelve men from the people, from each tribe a man, and command them, saying, ‘Take twelve stones from here out of the midst of the Jordan, from the very place where the priests’ feet stood firmly, and bring them over with you and lay them down in the place where you lodge tonight.’” Then Joshua called the twelve men from the people of Israel, whom he had appointed, a man from each tribe. And Joshua said to them, “Pass on before the ark of the Lord your God into the midst of the Jordan, and take up each of you a stone upon his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the people of Israel, that this may be a sign among you. When your children ask in time to come, ‘What do those stones mean to you?’ then you shall tell them that the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord. When it passed over the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. So these stones shall be to the people of Israel a memorial forever.” (Joshua 4:2-7, ESV)
There are many, many others. There’s the, “This do in remembrance of me” of communion, an opportunity to declare a victory routinely as the church.
I need to learn this lesson. You probably do, too. Record the victories. Set up the stones. Come back to them when you despair, and remember.
I'd rather not use pen and ink
John writes this at the end of 3rd John:
I had much to write to you, but I would rather not write with pen and ink. I hope to see you soon, and we will talk face to face.
It seems like John knew that some things you just had to do in person. I wonder if our facebook / email / text message obsessed culture needs to learn that lesson?