Boomcrash

Meanwhile, plenty of oppression in the U.S.Meanwhile, plenty of oppression in the U.S.Meanwhile, plenty of oppression in the U.S.

Just Jo Nubian reminds us all to keep under-reported stories about the murdering of African-Americans in the U.S. in mind, as the mainstream media continues to cover events in Iran.

The Zen of being griefed

I’m new to Twitter, but I’ve already received a follow from a Virginia-based non-profit that promotes missile defense, as well as from the deliberately-offensive-yet-occasionally-hilarious website Ask Blackie. (Blackie as in “S’up, my niggas! Where the party at?”)

So I blocked the missile defense account, no worries – but the real moment of existential panic was over Ask Blackie. Who the hell is doing this? What do they want from me? God, life is hard enough as it is. I felt a slowly creeping anger setting in.

Never one to leave well enough alone, I watched the vBlogs on the site – but given my politics and background, what may surprise you is that I calmly viewed them, loled a bit, got pissed off a bit but didn’t stress out over it. Did the site annoy me? Yes, of course. Did I laugh despite myself? Yes. The anger receded, and I went on my my day.

You may be thinking, “Isn’t this the moment where people such as yourself are supposed to have your fist in the air, getting on the phone to your Congressperson, blocking the doors and shutting shit down? Isn’t that what you live for?”

No – or to be more precise, not anymore.

Let’s step back a bit. It’s 2007, and I’m out somewhere in the 3D Bizarroville known as Second Life. I – or rather, my avatar – is being bombarded by the following images:

A red-hued shit and disembowelment collage
A wryly smiling Bill Cosby holding a pudding pop
A cartoon image of an anthropomorphized fox/furry in hell

Dozens of floating memes, followed by hundreds of hamburgers and Super Marios, then back to viscera and The Cos – all making me enraged. Hunched over at my computer, I’m moving my mouse back and forth – which is causing the avatar to “run” back and forth frantically. I occasionally stop moving the mouse to type something deeply insightful, like “WTFH.” I was convinced that this was some sort of right wing l33t hax0r cabal determined to fuck with my business – I had read Vice magazine, I knew how the young kids thought! I was clearly a prime target, and as such, I was getting harassed. This resulted in me losing my shit, which was exactly the intention of those bombarding me: get a hoot or three out of my sorry ass chasing a bunch of images on a screen, as if the real life sky suddenly turned purple and started raining Chuck Norris action figures – a neoconservative god-figment tormenting my over-active imagination.

Eventually, I managed to calm down, unplug for a while, take a walk and get some air – for a year or so. (I also learned how to decypher contemporary Internet culture more accurately, where the joke is on everybody, not just “the left.”) But when whoever-the-hell runs Ask Blackie started following my newly established Twitter account, complete with over-the-top racial characterizations and various Internet meme references? A little speck of the old familiar dread set in all over again – a miniature frozen-pudding-worshiping Pavlov’s dog stuck in an awesomely proportioned Bosch triptych. Once again, my mixed-race intersexed femme dyke anarchist self was waiting for the memes to show up, because nothing sets griefers in motion like someone who has a complex set of identities. We’re a petri dish for potential lulz, a walking, breathing Mountain Of Fail in the making. I kept it all on the chill this time though, and the panicked anger receded.

What people need to realize is that when you react as I did back in 2007, you’re shouting all and everything at a very large wall, which then just gives more information to whoever is pulling your personal parts to make you shout even louder. It’s damned funny to watch, and equally painful to go through – a scatological koan gone viral, with whatever you’re obsessed about as the punch line. That is, unless you stop reacting to it, in which case it becomes really, really, REALLY funny for you, and a comedic version of an indifferent audience for whoever’s doing the griefing – and the best part is that you may even learn something about how your mind operates in the process. If you keep on feeding it material though, it quickly morphs into a Buddha virus, and the game is on.

I’m sure that some of you will go to the site and get seriously pissed off anyway, so here’s a bit of advice. If you want to score a truly epic fail for yourself, and an Epic Win! for whoever’s patiently watching and waiting? Try blogging about Ask Blackie (or the equivalent) with a thick tone of smug indignation, and see what happens. You’re guaranteed to be swimming in David Cronenberg outtakes in no time at all, and if you decide to up the stakes in response, you may find your home address being spammed all over the tubes, if the recent past is any indication. Jokes on you, winner! Welcome to Videodrome, use some muthafuckin’ common sense next time…

Oh-oh.