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christopherwatsonbooks · 2 years

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It’s Okay to Like Dan Fogelberg

I wrote this piece in early January, 2008, a few weeks after Dan Fogelberg died. It took me that time to process my feelings, to determine what I was feeling in the wake of the unexpected news, and the largely indifferent media response. Like sorting through old photographs in a shoebox: unexamined for so long that you’d forgotten they were there, then the moment you raise and regard one the memories and feelings stab you so deeply, you wonder how you ever could have forgotten. I had to sit with those feelings awhile, allow the water to calm a bit before I could record what it reflected.

I published this on my now long-gone blog The Ninth House and it received dozens of positive comments, more than any other piece I’d posted there. Which of course was very nice – not only because of all those hits of dopamine, but also because of the affirmation that there were so many other souls who felt as I did. I post it here now, fourteen years later, in hopes it may find more.

When I first published this, the song links played clips I created. Now they'll take you to Spotify, which notoriously pays artists fractions of a cent per stream. It would sure be nice if everyone who pays this piece a visit would do right by Dan’s estate and purchase a track or an album from an online retailer.

I hope you enjoy the piece.

Chris

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while now. The holidays got in the way, but maybe that was for the best. It gave me time to really think about what I wanted to say.

And here it is.

It is okay to like Dan Fogelberg.

Go ahead. You can say it. Here, watch me:

I like Dan Fogelberg. Some of Dan Fogelberg’s music, I loved. And still do.

Dan Fogelberg died of prostate cancer on December 16th, 2007. He was 56. His most recent publicity photos show a good-looking guy, clean-shaven and smiling, the kind of guy who makes middle-aged moms blush and their daughters giggle.

Unfortunately, his reputation didn’t weather the years as well as he. For some folks of a certain age, Fogelberg’s name has become the go-to punch line for jokes about 1970s-era granola-munching, Chukka boot-wearing Sensitive Guys. Many critics loathed him. Rolling Stone’s review of 1979’s Phoenix is so contemptuous, you can damn near picture the author spitting on the album cover.

It’s less troublesome to dismiss Dan Fogelberg, as have most eulogists I’ve read, as that 1970s soft-rock singer-songwriter who scored a few hits than it is to set aside that fashionable prejudice and honestly consider his work. Or, more telling, his work’s popularity.

The fact that so many people evidently aren’t willing to do that – and worse, are dismissing Fogelberg as little more than a footnote to 1970s and early 80s pop – is really getting under my skin.

Fogelberg wasn’t a footnote. From his first album release, 1972’s Home Free, through 1981’s double album The Innocent Age, Fogelberg was regarded as an artist on par with the best of his peers. With Joe Walsh, he was one of the first acts signed by Irving Azoff, who soon went on to manage The Eagles, and he was considered for the spot in that band’s lineup that ultimately went to Walsh.

Reading the liner notes of Dan Fogelberg’s essential discography is like reading a who’s-who of mellow 1970s album rock. He attracted the best session players in the business. The Innocent Age features guest vocals from Emmylou Harris, Joni Mitchell, Richie Furay, Don Henley, Glenn Frey and Chris Hillman. If you had any of those artists’ works in your collection, you invariably owned at least one Dan Fogelberg album, too. Probably Souvenirs.

I played Souvenirs and other Fogelberg albums on the air as a rock radio DJ. It wasn’t at all unusual back in the day to hear him played alongside The Eagles, Poco, Jackson Browne, Linda Ronstadt, James Taylor, Joni Mitchell, CSNY, Jimmy Buffett, Boz Scaggs, Steely Dan, Neil Young and dozens more 1970s album rock radio core artists. You wouldn’t hear “Longer,” from Phoenix, but definitely “Part of the Plan,” “As the Raven Flies” and “There’s a Place in the World for a Gambler” from Souvenirs, maybe “Crow” from the underrated Captured Angel, definitely “The Power of Gold” from Dan’s Tim Weisberg collaboration Twin Sons of Different Mothers.

I liked to slide The Innocent Age out of its cover right around midnight. I was a college student in the early 80s, paying my way through school as the late-night jock on the town’s sole rock station, a pitiful low-wattage AM that nonetheless had a cult following. By midnight, I knew the hard partiers had already switched to the big regional FM; those who remained with me were studying or stoned, or both. That was my cue to take it way down: Robin Trower’s “Bridge of Sighs,” The Police’s “Walking on the Moon” next, “Hypnotized” from Fleetwood Mac after that, CSN’s “Dark Star” – you get the vibe. When I needed to stay mellow but bring in a little light, I’d inevitably reach for Dan.

The Innocent Age features Fogelberg’s biggest hits: “Same Old Lang Syne,” “Leader of the Band,” “Run for the Roses” and “Hard to Say.” But one of my favorite tracks to play late at night was “Only the Heart May Know,” his tender duet with Emmylou Harris, sweet as a lullaby sent into the night. Not that I never played anything from Phoenix, “Longer” aside. When I did, it was usually my favorite track from that album, the final one, “Along the Road.” Sometimes I made that the final song I played before unplugging my headphones for the night, a final tired smile goodnight wish for my peeps to sleep on.

“Along the Road” may be my favorite Dan Fogelberg song. Definitely top three. Two. It’s pretty high up there.

Of the ten albums Dan Fogelberg recorded and released between 1972 and 1985, two are RIAA-certified gold, three are platinum, four are double platinum and one – his 1982 Greatest Hits compilation -- is triple platinum. That’s more than 15 million units sold, most of them back when they were still called LPs and you had to actually make the trip to a record store to buy one.

Clearly, somebody other than me likes Dan Fogelberg.

Okay, so maybe you don’t. Maybe you agree with the chorus of critics who labeled his lyrics mawkish, overwrought, treacly and clichéd.

Well, yeah. A lot of his lyrics were. I don’t think an objective listener can deny it, no matter how great a fan they may be.

I’ve always thought Dan Fogelberg on balance was a far better melodist than lyricist. His best melodies from those first six albums are gems of craftsmanship, made more impressive by the sheer number of just damned catchy, stick-in-your-brain songs he cranked out. “Part of the Plan” and “Crow” would sound right at home in Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young’s oeuvre, and the hook to “Wishing on the Moon” from Phoenix is every bit as vital as, say, that of The Eagles’ “Already Gone.” Gritty up the lyrics a little, put Glenn Frey on lead with Dan singing the high harmony (Jesus, that voice) and it could be the B-side hit the Eagles never recorded.

But pair those melodies with Dan’s sentimental pen…

I can’t listen to the title track of 1977’s Nether Lands without the word “gushing” coming to mind. Dan’s standing on a mountaintop, beholding all that is below and before him, his heart and soul singing with the joy of the vista and the moment over a bed of woodwinds, strings and French horns, lush as the soundtrack to Sunrise over The Majestic Rockies, in Technicolor.

It’s just so damn over the top. Like Julie Andrews with a flannel shirt and a beard.

But here’s the thing. Not two years before I first heard “Nether Lands,” I’d been a raw-boned 16-year-old lad standing on the Mogollon Rim, southwest of Winslow, Arizona in the foothills of the Rockies. Sleeping under the stars, kneeling to drink from icy-cold Christopher Creek, standing on a pine-framed ridge to behold thousands of square miles of God’s magnificent Earth spread below and before me.

And so when the good Mr. Fogelberg’s high sweet tenor sang over those soaring, shameless orchestral glissandos, my heart sang with him. Because I had been there, and so knew that he had gotten it exactly and absolutely right.

And there it is. The key to Dan Fogelberg’s popularity, and the source of his most frequent criticisms.

Maybe if he’d thrown in some irony, a little cynicism to go with the poignancy. Maybe if he’d invoked whiskey and cigarettes when his woman done left him, rather than cottonwood trees in autumn. Maybe if he’d taken his hand off his heart and grabbed his crotch a bit more. Or at all.

But that wasn’t his thing. It’s clearly not where Dan lived, or what he believed. Not enough to want to write about it, at any rate.

I imagine the Dan Fogelberg who wrote and recorded those wonderful albums as a sweet guy, a gentle soul who recognized the transience of life and so chose to celebrate its moments of sweetness, chose sentiment over cynicism or resentment, even in life’s most heartrending moments. After you were done cursing and getting drunk and assigning blame, Dan’s the guy you’d eventually want sitting across the table from you over coffee or a beer. He’d listen and nod and smile, and you’d know he understood. He’d put it all into perspective for you. He wouldn’t try to make you feel better, but you’d come away knowing you weren’t alone, and that would make you feel better. It made the ache more tolerable, and enabled you to look forward once more.

Short of sitting across that table, Dan’s music on the stereo and a good bottle of wine isn’t a bad substitute. Many times, when my heart and soul ached, for many reasons, it’s what helped me.

I left Dan Fogelberg behind. I never developed a taste for his post-Innocent Age work, and my own music tastes changed as life changed me, carrying me on passing years from Dan and his peers to my current favorites. But I still carry a big torch for those days, and with the advent of iTunes, Rhapsody and the rest have found myself seeking out the music of my youth, reveling in sentimental fondness as I rediscover those songs, and the memories they awaken.

And so, I shouldn’t be surprised that I find myself sentimental over Dan Fogelberg’s death. And so irritated that it has gone so largely unremarked.

Maybe it’s because I’m older now, at that age when so many of those who composed and played the soundtrack to my youth are leaving us, making memories of that time more poignant. Maybe it’s that, because Dan’s music meant something to me, seeing his music dismissed makes me feel as if my youth and feelings are likewise being dismissed.

I imagine it’s all of that.

But also, I’m just plain pissed off at the critical pretentiousness that continues to dismiss Dan Fogelberg even in death, and the ease with which so many people mock him, for no other reason than that. Because it’s easy.

You don’t like his music? That’s fine. If you’ve given his best stuff a sincere listen and it’s not your cup of tea, then thanks for stopping by.

But if you haven’t? Listen to the clips I’ve included here. If you’re intrigued, spend a few bucks and download some tracks online. Or ask a friend, or maybe their granola-munching parents, if they’ve got some Dan Fogelberg you can borrow.

But be warned. You’ve got to kick the furniture out of the way and invite Dan in, if you’re going to appreciate him at all. You’ve got to be willing to let him nail you right smack-dab in your squishy place.

And if you find you like him – well, of course it’s okay. It’s always been okay. You don’t need my permission, or anyone’s. With anything in life, it’s never about what others say. It’s always about what you feel.

A few days after his death, longtime friend Jackson Browne called Dan Fogelberg “an angel.” Writing about him now, listening to him now, having rediscovered him now after all these years, I don’t feel inclined to disagree.

Rest in peace, Dan. And thanks.

#dan fogelberg

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cake-writes · 5 years

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Six (2/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (Bucky), Eating Disorder (Reader), Fluff, Slow Burn, 18+

Summary: Bucky knew that there were more important things for him to worry about. Of course he did. He still had to work through the horrors of his past, never mind his present, which was the exact reason why he honed right in on your petty bullshit. You distracted him from the things he didn’t want to think about. You also drove him up a fucking wall.

Part One / Master List

The morning after The Incident (because you were still too proud to admit that you actually fainted), you decided to make him breakfast as a thank you. Despite all of your issues with the end result, you found it relaxing to cook. Therapeutic, almost. Like nothing was wrong with you.

It also felt nice to do something good for another person. Dopamine was in short supply, and you were running on fumes and misery.

You’d just started plating everything up when Bucky came into the kitchen, right on time. Another sleepless night by the looks of it, too. It certainly didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that he never slept well. Not only were there always dark circles under his eyes, but you knew how much he tossed and turned. You'd witnessed it firsthand during the handful of times the two of you had shared a motel room. Of course, the fact that you usually spat nasty words at each other well into the early hours of the morning never helped matters any.

At some point, however, some small part of you had started to feel bad for him. You weren’t sure when – probably sometime after you read his file and found out what, exactly, he’d been through.

Maybe Bucky needed the dopamine, too.

Glancing over at him from the stove, you offered a casual, “Morning, Barnes.”

The surprise at your choice to strike up a conversation was evident on his face, but only for a split second; then he seemed just as casual as you. “Morning.”

That was when you started to have second thoughts about the whole ghastly affair. You’d never gotten along with him before, so why were you trying now? But you shoved the too-full plate at him anyway, before you could change your mind. It was piled high with bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast – enough to feed an army, or maybe just a super soldier, and he gave you a wary look.

“For yesterday,” you explained. When he hesitated, you rolled your eyes in annoyance. “For fuck’s sake, I didn’t poison it. I’m not an amateur. Here.”

Then you held it out a bit more pointedly as if to say, See, I’m not a complete fuck-up. I can be nice.

His eyes searched yours for a moment or two until he finally took the plate from you with an awkward, “Uh, thanks.”

Unsurprisingly, he set it down on the table at his usual seat, where you’d already laid out a fork and napkin. Even though the two of you had been in a perpetual state of arguing for the last six months, you knew him well enough. Not only did Bucky Barnes never waste food – especially not a home-cooked meal – but he liked routine. You wouldn’t go so far as to say he needed it, but even you could tell that it helped him adjust.

What caught you off guard was that he didn’t sit just yet. Instead he stood there, unsurely, watching as you pulled a bottle of orange juice from the fridge. As unnerving as that was, you somehow managed to fill up two glasses without spilling a drop.

Then you spared another glance up at him as you screwed the lid back onto the bottle. When you caught him staring, he quickly looked away.

“What?” you asked in exasperation, putting the bottle back into the fridge.

“You just… You look better today. I’m glad.”

At that, you nearly dropped the glasses as you made your way to the table. Thankfully, he seemed to miss it, finally having taken a seat.

He was glad. How on earth could he be? He couldn’t stand you.

“Thank you,” you said a little too haughtily, setting his glass down in front of him before you sat down on the other side, putting a proverbial distance in between you both – but not even a sip of orange juice could alleviate the sudden dryness in your throat.

He nodded to the glass in your hand. “Is that all you’re having?”

“I’m not a breakfast person.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it did kill the conversation.

The silence that befell the two of you certainly wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, either. Neutral. For once, the two of you weren’t fighting and it hadn’t taken a battlefield to get either of you to cooperate.

It was actually kind of nice.

Taking another sip, you gazed out the window as he quietly worked on the too-large meal you made. If nothing else, he’d always had an appetite and you secretly envied the way he could eat so much and not gain a pound. It made you wish you were normal. As it was, having juice instead of water was enough to stress you out.

The day was beautiful, you found, nice and sunny and if you didn’t feel like you’d been hit by a train, you would have gone for a run to enjoy the weather – and to burn off the calories from your liquid breakfast.

Of course, what you were really worried about was where to go from here. You’d hinted at things yesterday that you’d never told anyone else, and you weren’t exactly sure what to do or even how to talk to him. It was him, after all. Bucky Barnes. Your worst enemy.

“Not that I don’t appreciate it,” he began carefully, almost like you'd take offense, drawing your attention away from the lovely weather, “but you didn’t have to do this.”

In the muted sunlight, his eyes were truly stunning: a gorgeous pale blue, just like the cloudless sky outside. There was an unrecognizable flutter in your chest – appreciation, perhaps – to which you responded more dryly than intended, “I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to.”

“Why?” he asked. There it was again: his curiosity. This time, however, he seemed a little suspicious, too. It made sense. You weren’t exactly a friend.

For a moment, you weren’t really sure what to say. Was it a peace offering? Possibly. It was also a thank you; you’d already said as much. You were more for grand gestures than words. Not that cooking breakfast was a grand gesture, of course, but the sentiment was the same.

So you shrugged. “You carried me up to my room. Couldn’t have been easy.”

His stupid comment that you’d been dead weight had been stuck on a loop in your mind since yesterday. It bothered you, but you’d never admit it, especially not to him.

Bucky paused, fork in mid-air, to study your face again – unsettling, just like before. You felt like he could see right through you, something he only further proved by asking point-blank, “Is that why you’re not eating?”

You immediately tensed. “What?”

“You’re light as a feather, doll. I didn’t even break a sweat.”

If nothing else, Bucky Barnes certainly didn’t mince words. That had always been one thing you couldn’t stand about him, not to mention the exact reason why you were always on the defensive. He was also far too observant for your liking.

This time, however, it didn’t bother you nearly as much as it should have.

You let out a noncommittal hum in response, resting your chin on your hand as you peered back out at the clear sky. Although you’d spoken the words a hundred times before, the lack of malice in your tone felt unfamiliar – almost warm. “Not your doll, Barnes.”

To say that the next few days were tedious would have been an understatement.

You’d been relegated to desk duty for an indiscriminate amount of time while you underwent tests and scans in the medical ward. Just because you’d been discharged didn’t mean that they were done with you. You did have a concussion, after all, and Dr. Cho wanted to make absolutely sure you were fit for field duty before she signed on the dotted line.

So far, she wasn’t convinced – especially because you’d lost five pounds since your hospital stay and, if you were being honest, you were in pretty rough shape. Unfortunately, you weren’t an honest person. You kept your troubles bottled up inside until they spilled over in the form of a too-hot temper, which you hadn’t had the opportunity to exercise lately.

It certainly didn’t help that Bucky was nowhere to be found. He’d left for a mission shortly after having breakfast with you, and he hadn’t been back since. Normally you’d enjoy the peace and quiet and lack of bullshit, but you just felt anxious. You didn’t like it.

Filing papers and typing up emails was boring, and your thoughts kept drifting back to him, wondering where he was and when he’d be back. It wasn’t like it was classified information – well, it was, but you had a clearance – and eventually you looked it up because you just needed to know. You weren’t sure why. Curiosity, maybe.

He was in Belgium.

You’d been there once before on one of your first missions, with him, Steve, and Natasha. On the flight home, you binged on so many Belgian truffles that you made yourself sick. Didn’t eat again for a full month after that.

It looked like his mission was pretty run-of-the-mill: extraction and interrogation. Shouldn’t have taken more than a day or two, but now it had been nearly a week. At least he was with Sam and Clint, but it must have gotten hairy if they weren’t back yet.

You probably would have been sent along too if you were in any condition for it. You didn’t like that, either. Not being out in the field made you feel like you were wasting your time.

Needless to say, you weren’t taking well to desk duty. You were going stir crazy, as a matter of fact. You liked to be active, not just because it burned calories but because it was cathartic. You enjoyed getting out and about, going for a run just to enjoy the tranquillity of nature surrounding the compound. A hundred acres to explore, and you were trapped indoors with your anxious thoughts.

“Steve,” you whined, using your feet to push off the floor and roll your chair over to his desk. “Isn’t there anything else I can do? I’ve just about typed my fingers off.”

“Not my problem,” Steve responded automatically, still focusing on the paperwork in front of him. It certainly wasn’t the first time you whined to him, but his patience had no bounds.

You groaned. “Then can I have a half day? I hate this. I hate being stuck in here when I could be out doing something useful.”

At that, Steve finally looked up from his paperwork to you.

You knew you sounded like a spoiled child, but you really did hate it. Filing was useful, of course it was, but your skills were better suited to the field and you felt well enough to go on missions again. Dr. Cho was just being difficult.

While you couldn’t manipulate your doctor, Steve was easy – all you had to do was pout and he’d give right in, the big softie that he was.

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” he said exasperatedly, and you jumped up from the chair in excitement.

“Thank you! I’ll make up my time tomorrow.”

“Go on, get out of here.” He gestured to the door, almost shooing you out. “Enjoy the weather for me.”

“Will do,” you called over your shoulder.

It wasn’t a secret that you liked to run.

And, of course, that was exactly what you did.

You finally returned to the compound around dusk, after your legs were once again thoroughly fatigued. Because of your stupid behaviour after being released from medical, you hadn’t been able to exercise much over the last few days. Your body was too sore.

Thankfully, you were in much better spirits now. Runner’s high may have contributed to that.

Wiping your face with the small towel around your shoulders, you jogged your way up the stairs to your bedroom, attempting to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of your stomach growling. You couldn’t allow yourself to eat, not when you still hadn’t burned off those ten thousand calories from days ago. You’d barely eaten since, and the fact that you’d already lost some weight had no impact on your resolve. There was always more weight to lose.

On the floor in front of your bedroom door was a small brown box tied with gold string, one you recognized immediately.

Belgian truffles.

Fuck.

Even just seeing the box made you nauseous because you knew what it contained. Well, you couldn’t just leave it there as tempted as you were to do so – so you picked it up, and noticed a small yellow post-it attached:

Thanks for breakfast.

There was something about Bucky’s messy handwriting that made your heart warm, but your thoughts were already focused on something else entirely. Even if Bucky had remembered that you liked these particular truffles, and even if it was incredibly sweet of him to bring some back for you, it set you off all the same. He didn’t know that they’d triggered a binge the last time. Of course he didn’t. You didn’t share your eating troubles with anyone, especially not him.

Not that it mattered.

Your runner’s high was gone in an instant, replaced with stupid, irrational, uncontrollable panic. You couldn’t have these here. You’d eat them. You’d eat all of them in five fucking minutes. You’d shovel them into your mouth like a maniac, and then you’d get sick all over again. Each one had to be at least a hundred calories, and there were twelve of them.

The walk to his room was brisk, punctuated by swear words muttered under your breath. With each step, you only got more and more irritated. He hadn’t even signed his name. How arrogant. It was obviously from him, but that didn’t matter either. All that mattered was that you needed them gone.

You were pounding on the door to his bedroom before you even realized it, palm hard and unyielding against the wood. “Open up, Barnes. I swear to god, if you don’t open this god damned door—”

Predictably, it opened, and you came face-to-face with those gorgeous blue eyes of his – but there was no time for appreciation, not now.

“Take it back.”

Then you shoved the box out towards him.

Bucky glanced down at it for a moment before he looked back up at you in confusion. Your face was flushed, but it wasn’t because you were happy. Far from it. You were angry.

Why?

“It’s for you,” he said blankly. Wasn’t it obvious?

“I don’t want it,” you spat, voice full of vitriol. Now that certainly wasn’t unfamiliar to him, but it still took him by surprise. “Take it back.”

Hadn’t you liked those truffles the last time? His memory wasn’t exactly the greatest after, well, everything, but he could distinctly recall you eating a whole box of them – a whole box that looked just like that one. He remembered it because of how happy you’d been at the time. That was always a rare sight for him, because all he ever managed to do was upset you – sometimes intentionally, but usually not.

Just like now.

“Why don’t you want it?” he asked, still not quite understanding. If it was anyone else, he’d probably have taken offense, but it was you and nothing you ever did made a lick of sense to him. This was just another example of it.

Even still, there was a certain look in your eyes that unsettled him. Panic. He’d seen it before, usually whenever he got on your case about wasting food, but he’d seen it that night at the gym, too. Something was wrong. Something was always wrong when you looked like this, but he could never figure out why.

Then you spoke so quietly, he might have missed it if his senses weren’t enhanced. “Just take it back. Please.”

The way your voice broke on the last word was what prompted him to take the box from you, hesitant, unsure. He didn’t know why you didn’t want it, but it bothered him. It always bothered him when you were like this, especially when he was the cause. Any other time, he understood enough; you hated to be nagged about things, and he got on your case pretty frequently.

This time, however, he didn’t have a clue.

“Thank you,” you told him, and spun around on your heel to leave – but his free hand caught your wrist. Your skin was so hot to the touch against cool vibranium and he realized, then, how delicate you actually were. Your wrist was so small that his fingers overlapped quite a bit.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself saying, but he didn’t know why. All he knew was that, somehow, he’d offended you. Was it because he was the one who gave it to you?

That was when you offered him the ghost of a smile, one that made his heart ache just a little. You never smiled at him. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Bucky. This is all me.”

If he didn’t do anything wrong, then why—?

“I appreciate it,” you continued, pausing to worry your lower lip in between your teeth. “Really, I do. I’ve just… I’ve got some issues. Nothing worth talking about.”

And if he didn’t know the feeling. That was exactly how he felt whenever he went to therapy.

“You’re upset.” The way he said it wasn’t accusatory, but gentle. “Isn’t that worth talking about?”

At that, you snorted derisively and pulled your wrist free. “Not with you.”

Now that pissed him off. It must have shown on his face, because you immediately grimaced.

“Shit, I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I mean…” You looked away, chewing your lip some more. Nervous energy. He knew it well. “You’ve been through a lot. My problems are pretty stupid compared to that.”

His tone held a slight note of annoyance. “It’s not a competition, doll.”

When your eyes met his again, he noticed that you seemed a little less panicked, a little more… open, if he could even call it that. So he took a calculated risk.

“I’ll listen.” When you tensed up at the suggestion, he quickly added, “If you want.”

You were considering it; he could see it on your face plain as day. And then, just as easily, he watched you make up your mind, watched you put your walls right back up like they’d never been down to begin with.

“Maybe another time,” you told him with another rueful smile.

“Sure,” he replied, but he wasn’t sure at all.

As he watched you walk away, for the first time all he wanted to do was help you. He just didn’t know how.

Later that night, he received a text from you. He rarely received any, let alone from you and on the rare occasion you did message him, it always pertained to a mission. This one didn’t.

Thanks for remembering.

Part Three

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #captain america #avengers #mcu #star's multi fandom follower celebration #six

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islamicrays · 5 years

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Marriage, Divorce, and Social Media

I was talking to a friend yesterday, and she told me that there is an ever-growing phenomenon in the American city in which she lives: Muslim couples getting divorced left and right.

"Why are all these people getting divorced? Is there a common root cause?" I asked her.

Her reply was succinct: "Social media."

Several months ago, I met up with another sister who said something very similar to me, describing the current situation in her town, in a different American state.

In my own experience, I've also come across cases of this very thing happening.

What is going on?

Social media is a tool, like a knife or a car or any kind of device. We can use it to bring about good, or we can use it to bring about our own destruction.

But the danger that is specific to social media, whether Facebook or Instagram or Twitter or Snapchat or whatever newer thing exists nowadays, is that it carries certain distinct risks that can erode our faith, our iman, along with our marriage.

What are some of these problems with social media?

1. Distraction:

Let's face it. Facebook is addictive. So is Instagram. So is Twitter, if you don't mind the levels of insanity some folks on there regularly sink to. On all of these platforms, you just keep scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling. Stuff keeps coming up! Endless entertainment. Perpetual amusement. You jump from one person's profile to another's, and go through all their pictures, and click on a name they tagged to see *that* person's page. The fun pretty much trots itself out before you; all you have to do is keep moving your index finger on the screen.

Next to this endless stream of gossip and intrigue, the conversation your spouse can offer you pales in comparison. And that's IF your spouse is even trying to engage you in conversation. Your husband is most likely on his own phone, intently following a fight on Twitter. Your wife is scrolling through pictures of other people's lives on Insta, wrapped up in their world. This couple might even be chilling on the couch together, after dinner and after the kids are in bed--looking at their phones instead of at each other. They're talking to other people online instead of to each other in real life. Where's the connection there? Where's the spark?

The marriage weakens while neither party is paying attention. The husband and wife are both otherwise occupied. It starts slow but it builds up over time. Communication, eye contact, and frequent conversations give way to silence, the glow of screens, and eyes glued to devices. If this trend of distraction keep going unchecked, a noticeable distance is created between husband and wife. All of a sudden, she says that she feels like they "don't really have much in common anymore." He says that they've "kind of drifted apart."

2. Gender barrier erosion:

Social media tends to dissolve the barrier between the genders, since we are all sitting behind the cover of a screen and not physically in the presence of others. The same types of strict observations of hayaa حياء (modesty), for people who try to observe them, seem to be easier to let go of when the interaction is entirely electronic.

Whereas in person, many Muslims would refrain from staring directly into the eyes of a member of the opposite sex, online some would feel no qualms staring at a picture of a member of the opposite sex. Whereas in person, many Muslims would feel reluctant to have a long drawn-out conversation about personal stuff with a non-mahram, online it becomes somehow easier to open up to a non-mahram about deeply private situations. The usually-rigid barrier of modesty that exists in person becomes relaxed online.

When that happens, a relationship starts to unravel fast. All of a sudden, a man starts to unburden himself to another woman: he shares his trouble at work, his frustrations in life, even his problems with his wife at home, and this other sister he's messaging is a sympathetic listener. He finds solace and emotional intimacy elsewhere, with a woman who's not his wife.

Even if he reassures himself that it's not haram because "this is strictly platonic" and this online sister is not his side chick...we all know where this path leads. Things that are private between a man and a woman have a way of going from platonic to romantic. Almost as though there was a third party present with them to make sure things get sexual, like maybe Shaytan. Oh wait...yes, there is that hadith! Online khalwa is still khalwa.

3. Validation and approval-seeking:

Everyone, male and female, likes to feel appreciated, validated, encouraged. We all want to feel special, paid attention to, admired. This need for attention in and of itself is not a problem--the problem is: where do we go to seek this attention?

Speaking as a woman myself, I can say that women have a higher emotional need for reassurance and validation. It's natural for most women to want to feel attractive, desirable, and to have our beauty admired and remarked upon. Men also have a need to be praised and appreciated--but women have this need in a bigger way. Islamically, women do have a natural and wholesome route through which to attain this desire for male attention: marriage. A husband is the only halal source of male admiration, attention, and validation of a woman's beauty. But increasingly, in our age of rampant social media usage, some women are turning to other sources for this: random men online.

It has become about *quantity* of attention instead of *quality* of attention.

A woman can either get higher quality (ie. real, genuine, halal) attention from one man, her husband. OR, she can get a higher quantity of attention (ie. more likes, comments, heart emojis) from non-mahram men on social media when she posts cute pictures of herself dressed up and made up and pouting for the camera, maybe adding a sexy filter. Unfortunately, what ends up happening in these cases is that people pick attention quantity over attention quality.

What solidifies things is the dopamine hit that comes from more likes and comments ("MashaAllah, sister! You're so beautiful!!"). The positive feedback can be addictive for some, and it serves as a vicious cycle that reinforces the pattern. Whatever attention her one man can give her can never quite measure up to the sheer quantity of male attention she's been getting from other people online. It's become a competition now and the husband is losing.

The wife becomes annoyed at him and resentful that he's not giving her her due. All these other guys online praise her looks and style, why can't this guy give her the same level of compliments? Maybe he doesn't deserve her. Maybe she's too good for this oblivious bum. Maybe she'll drop him for another man who knows her worth, maybe one of those dudes she's been messaging with online. *That* guy seems to appreciate her!

There goes the marriage.

Be careful on social media. Guard your marriage and family. Fear Allah in all your interactions, online and offline.

Umm Khalid

#islamic quotes #islam #quote #muslim #allah #muslimah #marriage #dua #love #reminder #divorce

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ryliweb · 3 years

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PlayStation 5 Scalpers Aren’t Happy With Their Public Image

The simple, joyful, act of buying the latest console – a twice-decade dopamine hit like no other – has become a rage-inducing misery in 2020 and 2021.

Why? Because of scalpers who employ fast-buying bots to scoop up hundreds of consoles in the time it takes for your finger to press “order”.

They are using increasingly sophisticated bots to do this and becoming more organised to spot opportunities, often working in large groups. For regular gamers who want to buy a console, this has caused huge frustration and anger towards scalpers who are profiting from reselling consoles at huge markups.

But scalpers I’ve spoken with say their intentions are misunderstood and their negative public image isn’t justified.

“There seems to be A LOT of bad press on this incredibly valuable industry and I do not feel that it is justified, all we are acting as is a middleman for limited quantity items.” said Jordan, who co-founded The Lab, a private group that advises paying users on how to scalp (known as a “cook group”).

Jordan claims to have secured 25 PlayStation 5 units in January and resold them for £700. The most expensive recommended retail price for the PS5 is £450. This, he feels, is no different to how any other business operates.

“Essentially every business resells their products. Tesco, for example, buys milk from farmers for 26p or so per litre and sells it on for upwards of 70p per litre. No one ever seems to complain to the extent as they are currently doing towards ourselves.” The backlash from angry gamers has led to death threats, Jordan claims, which have been reported to police.

I put Jordan’s analogy to some frustrated gamers who have been trying to buy the Sony console for weeks. One, who didn’t want to be named, said “he is deluded. He doesn’t get he’s another layer of profiteering in his own Tesco analogy. He’s not Robin Hood.”

Bypassing security checks

Jordan’s success has been replicated by other users in The Lab. Jordan’s business partner, Regan, shared images of mass purchases of in-demand Supreme gear using a bot called Velox.

The screenshots show that not only is the bot fast at checking out (the fastest is 2.3 seconds for a Supreme x Smurfs Skateboard), but it also manages to bypass 3D Secure to make the transaction happen.

3D Secure is an additional layer of security which verifies that the buyer is the legitimate card owner. It is a requirement in the UK for all websites processing card payments (if the payment card supports it). This usually redirects buyers to another site, which is owned by the bank, for authentication. But the Velox bot used for these supreme purchases bypasses the protocol for a faster checkout.

I asked web security and performance consultant, Edward Spencer, how this bypass this works.

“I suspect the 3D Secure payments page is being by passed by using a card that has not had 3D Secure enabled. Generally, all cards provided by EU banks must have 3D Secure enabled. If you called your bank and requested that 3D Secure was disabled for your card, they’d refuse. So I would guess that they are using cards associated with banks that are from outside of the EU, and are probably pre-paid. The shops could probably thwart these guys by banning all non-3d Secure transactions”.

But there’s more to scalper success then bypassing 3D Secure. Another person I spoke with, who only wanted to be quoted as “Alex”, attempted to build his own bot to buy a PS5. But his was a website scraper that automated purchases, which, as Alex explains, isn’t quick enough.

“There are bots that interact with servers, and there are bots that interact with the web browser – mine interacted with a web browser. So it can only go as fast as a website will let you go. It works faster than a normal human, but there are other bots that, you know, people would be selling for thousands of dollars that will beat my bot every time.”

He continued: “so I know, for Walmart, there was an open API for their stock. Some of these bots could add a PS5 to their shopping cart, and then they could purchase it from there.”

Alex is right that scalpers and cook groups are finding innovative ways to get stock before anyone else. On January 25th cook group Express Notify found a way to buy PlayStation 5 units from UK retailer Argos a full day before the official stock drop, ordering several consoles. Argos eventually shut down the loophole.

Exactly how these bots bypass safeguards, or “interact with servers”, as Alex put it is a bit of a mystery. Spencer speculates that the creators of these bots have “sniffed” the web traffic between the web browser or mobile app of an online store, and the servers.

“Right now I can open Google Chrome and go to any online store, press F12 and I’ll get the developer tools up. All I’ve got to do is go to the network tab, and then maybe add a product into my cart , and observe how my browser is talking to the server that hosts the website. There will typically be network calls to an API running on the server that reveals information – in a computer and human readable way – about products and stock levels.

“So this API isn’t intended to be used by 3rd party developers, but a 3rd party developer could use it if they worked out how. It’s reverse engineering the online store’s API. This isn’t exactly sophisticated. Sites can mitigate this with tried and tested anti-request forgery techniques but unfortunately many sites just don’t bother.”

I contacted several bot makers and cook groups to ask how their tech works, but none were forthcoming apart from those quoted in this story. If you have any information you’re willing to share, then get in contact.

Impossible competition

The scalpers I did speak with operate as a business, in some cases with full time staff. Because of the potential money on the table, the scalpers employ a lot of techniques to gain an advantage over regular buyers and other bot users. Jordan explained that because of bot competition, he has to be vigilant of opportunities.

“Our group monitors hundreds of websites waiting to notify members of restocks. The website I was able to get checkouts from was GAME, which the monitors notified us at around 10am GMT that PS5 stock had been loaded onto the backend of the website.

“It is pretty simple to set up as all the top tier bots have in-depth guides or really simple interfaces. All I needed was the product ID, a few unique billing profiles and proxies (proxies allow us access websites from different locations whether it be country or city specific). We have this all in place ready before any restocks happen to give us the best chances of purchasing. If you are slow, even with a bot, you will miss out on the product.”

GAME issued the following statement in reply to Jordan’s claim.

“PlayStation 5s continue to be in very high demand and that demand far outweighs current supply. We have strong measures in place to help ensure that our “1 per customer” statement is maintained to allow for as many individual customers to successfully purchase as possible.

“All pre-orders are subject to automatic checks and order updates such as cancellations following these checks take place after a customer will have received a valid order confirmation email.”

Jordan didn’t want to name the bot they used to complete the purchases, but they did say that “ you will have seen it plastered amongst the media recently due to the PS5 shortage.” In late January, the team behind a bot called Carnage boasted about helping users secure 2000 PS5s. The Carnage bot team could not be reached for comment.

Both Regan and Jordan say that they are, ultimately, helping people by giving them financial opportunities to resell consoles at an inflated price. “I mainly just try and help others now, that’s all that really matters to me. The whole group came about near the start of the first UK lockdown and it makes me so happy that I can help people make some extra money for themselves.

“We do a lot for charity as well. I myself or collectively as a group donate to charity almost monthly at this point. Most notably over the past month we donated a large portion of our membership fees to a foodbank local to me.” I asked for details of the food bank to confirm Regan’s donation but he didn’t provide their information.

Employing the use of bots doesn’t guarantee a purchase of any hot ticket item, but it can massively improve your chances. What this means for the consumer is that the already limited pool of available product – which has been exacerbated by supply chain issues related to Covid – shrinks even further. Regan says this means average buyers will always struggle.

“Your average person who just wants one of the consoles to use struggles to get close. A lot of these sites have very minimal or easy to bypass bot protection. They often release stocks at stupid times or without any form of schedule. A retailer I won’t name released stock of the PlayStation 5s in the extremely early hours of the morning. Which shows the lack of care on their part. The only people who will have known about those restocks will have been people with monitors inside of cook groups.”

The post PlayStation 5 Scalpers Aren’t Happy With Their Public Image appeared first on RyLi Gaming Solutions.

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chariot313 · 4 years

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Western social media has no respect for Japanese online artists - and it’s killing online art

The visual arts have evolved to suit the most popular medium of each era. In nowadays’ case, the internet is the go-to method of sharing the fruits of one’s labour). However, as stated in that tweet thread of mine you can see if you scroll down a bit (assuming you’re viewing this post on chariot313.tumblr.com) different cultures have different attitudes towards how their customers react to their products. This include you know what fuck the formalities, I’ll just say it: The exclusively western concept of someone seeing something they like online and hitting the share button to stimulate the “Haha, upvotes go ‘brrr’!” dopamine in their smooth-ass lizard brain will be the death of online Japanese artists. Or rather, it has been already, and you would know that if you’ve ever seen an artist’s Twitter bio be in mostly Japanese save for one sentence in English; “Reprint is prohibited.”.

If you want to hear me rationalize the absurd claim I just made, feel free to click the “Keep reading” button. Otherwise, turn back now and save yourself from me possibly wasting your time.

Alright, you’ve chosen to stick with me. Just remember, you asked for this.

Introduction

Social media as a whole is based around sharing (posting, uploading, submitting, tweeting, blogging, streaming etc.) and other’s reactions to what one has shared (views, likes, subscribers, favorites, followers, upvotes, retweets, reblogs, crossposts, etc.).

However, miscommunication and culture shock due to language barriers and cultural differences is one of the many factors that can negatively affect one’s experience on social media. For example, the Japanese artist community, active on sites such as Twitter, Pixiv, NicoNico Seiga, FC2 blogs, etc.. Twitter is mostly inhabited by English-speaking users. Here in the west, our main motive for sharing something on social media (such as art) is for fame and recognition. However, over in the East, most online artists only upload their works to the internet for personal use. I’m not saying one cultural attitude towards sharing art is better than one another, but when these two worldviews collide, the culture shock can negatively affect the careers of artists who are unaware of the other culture’s differing views on sharing art.

So, I’ve listed numerous social media platforms below and I’m going to elaborate on how each of them contributes to the alienation and discouragement of Japanese artists.

DO NOT WITCH-HUNT OR HARASS THE CULPRITS I’VE LISTED AS EXAMPLES; THEY ONLY SERVE TO BACK UP MY ARGUMENT

Twitter

Go into the twitter search bar and type in the name of an anime character (usually female). What do you find? Most likely an account named after said character that does nothing but post unsourced fan art of said character with cheesy “in-character” captions on them.

Exhibit A [NSFW]

Exhibit B [NSFW]

Exhibit C [very NSFW]

Aside from that, Twitter isn’t that bad in this regard, as a lot of the art that gets stolen is originally uploaded to Twitter anyway. But I’m just getting started.

Wattpad

Ah yes, Wattpad. One of the “trinity” of fan fiction communities (the others being fanfiction.net and AO³), featuring many different stories with varying degrees of readability. The problem is the option to add a picture to adorn your fanfiction, at which point most of the authors google “<fanfic subject> fan art” and use something from there without considering the repercussions. This causes Wattpad to be one of the top results when reverse image searching to find the source of some fan art, aside from another site I’ll mention later on...

There’s a subreddit I often browse called r/ChurchOfJirou, a community for sharing anything relating to the character Kyouka from My Hero Academia (I mean come on, she’s like the cutest thing ever). A lot of the posts on that sub are sharing fan art of the aforementioned character. One of the rules in the sidebar is “always include the source in the title or the comments”. And most of the submissions make good on that rule. However, a lot of the posts are from Japanese artists on Twitter or Pixiv, and following the source link leads you to find the artist’s bio, which usually has something along the lines of “don’t repost my work”. And what’s more, the biggest offenders (of submitting art to the sub without OP’s permission) were the moderators of the subreddit. You know, the ones who are supposed to be enforcing the rules? I even got so fed up that I called it out, to which one of the mods replied,

“It doesn’t really make a difference, does it?”

Luckily, not all subreddits are like this. For example, other MHA-related subs like r/BokuNoShipAcademia or r/ChurchOfMinaAshido have moderators that are more considerate of artists’ wishes. Overall, Reddit is usually a hit-or-miss when it comes to this kind of thing. At best, you’ve got subs like the two I just mentioned which make sure to respect artists, and at worst you’ve got people trying (and failing) to edit out watermarks. Also, not to self-promote, but this tweet of mine represents this situation pretty well:

Imgur

Imgur isn’t that bad compared to the rest of these, but it’s a common one that people link to when asked for the source of whatever they’ve shared on Twitter or Reddit or whatever.

Amino Apps

Amino Apps is a strange case. I don’t know much about it since I’ve never used it, but from what I do know it seems similar to Reddit in that there are numerous communities for different niches. That said, judging from the way it clogs up Google image search results, I doubt OC art is posted there often.

YouTube

Now, you may be thinking, “How does a video site rip off others’ art?”. The answer is uploads of soundtracks. Look for any OST from a video game or anime on YouTube and the picture used for the video will likely be some fan art by a Japanese Pixiv artist, usually one that forbids reposts of their work. Not only that, but if the uploader did bother to add the source in the description, it’s usually not even a link to the actual source, more likely a link to Zerochan or Pinterest or something. Now take into account that some of these videos get millions of views. Imagine working hard on something, and some numbnuts takes it, slaps some music onto it, uploads it to YouTube, and gets millions of views while you get next to nothing in comparison.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B (re-upload; original had nearly 40 million views before it was copyright claimed)

Exhibit C

and many many others

Alright, this is the big one. When Pinterest isn’t giving recipes or wardrobe ideas to suburban white moms, it’s clogging up Google reverse image search, punishing anyone who just wanted to find the source of some cute fan art. I feel like this meme by ZebitasMartinexSi on Facebook sums it up:

For example, this piece of Legend of Zelda art by Twitter artist @_nomeri_ (I’ll just link to it, since it would be hypocritical of me to embed the image even though @_nomeri_’s bio warns people not to repost their art). Good art, right? Well, if you right-click and hit “Search Google for image”...

...yeah. Pinterest is a plague. It thrives on theft. Even worse is when someone will post fan art on Twitter/Tumblr/Reddit/etc. and have the nerve to say “IDK the source I found it on Pinterest ^_^”. Or worse yet, they link to Pinterest saying it’s the source.

Instagram

While many other sites rag on Instagram for its reposting of memes, it’s no better when it comes to reposting fan art, especially from Pixiv. I’ve seen lots of stolen pieces with fan fictions written in the description. Personally, if I were an artist, I’d rethink my career choice if I saw my art reposted on Instagram with a half-assed fanfic under it, so I don’t blame Japanese artists who close their Pixiv accounts after seeing that. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to prevent it from happening in the first place.

DeviantArt

DeviantArt is more “renowned” across the web for its niche circles of bizarre fetish art, but in its defence, there are some legitimately good pieces on there. If you do find a good one though, try checking to see if all of the uploader’s pieces have a similar overall art style, because if not, that’s a sure sign of someone passing off some Pixiv user’s art as their own, which is unfortunately fairly common on DeviantArt.

9Gag

Not a whole lot to say about 9Gag. I mean, it does contribute to reposting of art, but nothing really separates it from the others on this list, aside from its watermarks. At least the watermark gives away the fact that something was reposted.

Know Your Meme

You know that Zelda pic by @_nomeri_ I was talking about earlier? Well, to add insult to injury, it became an object-labelling meme.

Imagine putting hours into something and politely asking others not to repost it, only to find that some nincompoops on r/DankMemes made it into an object-labelling meme.

But this isn’t KYM’s fault, per se. Know Your Meme only documents memes; they do not create them. However, as someone who regularly browses the Know Your Meme image galleries, I can say that the image gallery has essentially become Know Your Fan Art (unlawfully reposted fan art, that is).

Redbubble

There’s an NSFW artist I follow on Twitter by the name of Nico-Mo. A while ago, his Pixiv account was suspended, and there were numerous pictures on there that he had not uploaded to his Twitter or DeviantArt, so I found a mirror of one of those pieces on Gelbooru and reverse-image searched in hopes of finding it on his Twitter. No such luck. What came up instead was a .png of the piece made into a sticker being sold on Redbubble. In fact, that’s one of the major reasons why artists disapprove of their art being reposted, as it may find its way onto a sticker or a T-shirt being sold as merch without the original artist giving consent nor the artist receiving so much as a single nickel.

Facebook

Surprisingly, I think Facebook is one of the least offending sites on this list. Still worth mentioning, though.

Funnyjunk

Like Imgur, Funnyjunk isn’t that bad compared to some of the rest of these, but this exchange in the comments of a repost of an MHA artist that deleted their account (not hard to see why considering people straight-up ignored the big-ass watermark at the bottom) is proof enough of western social media’s flippant attitude towards ruining online artists’ careers.

Aggregator imageboards such as Yande.re, Konachan, Danbooru, Gelbooru, Rule34, SankakuComplex, Zerochan, etc.

I don’t think I need to explain these. But like Imgur, these are what most people link to when asked for source instead of bothering to find the original post.

We Heart It

I don’t know much about “We Heart It”, but it seems to be a “Pinterest Lite” considering it clogs up image search almost as much as Pinterest does.

iFunny

Basically the same as 9Gag, in the sense that its watermarks are a dead giveaway.

4chan

I’m not sure if 4chan really “counts” among these, as it’s a chat board where nearly everything is impermanent anyway. However, I was once on an NSFW subreddit where one submitter used a 4chan thread to get Patreon-exclusive material from an artist to upload to the sub (even though one of the rules of the sub was “no paywall content”), so that alone earns 4chan its spot on this list.

Tumblr

Yes, not even Tumblr is innocent. Although I’m sure you knew that. Similar to what I said about Twitter, look up any blog named after a fictional character and it’ll likely be chock-full of unsourced fan art.

“Why is this even important?”

Because if an artist sees that their work is being reposted, depending on the artist, they may delete the original post when they wouldn’t have to if people had just respected their wishes. Now, if an artist wants their works gone from the internet for other personal reasons, that’s up to them and we should respect them for it. But artists taking down their works due to mass reposting is 100% preventable, which is why it’s sad. If you don’t respect an artist, they won’t create art. Simple as that.

“Why do you care so much?”

Eh, I’m just weird like that. It just ticks me off when anything online, whether it be art, or a video, or whatever, is lost. In my opinion, nothing hurts more than clicking a Pixiv link on an imageboard and being greeted with “The work was deleted or the ID does not exist.”.

“But lots of western artists forbid reposting of their art too!”

Indeed, that is correct. But while many artists of every nationality and culture frown upon reproduction of their work, it seems only western social media is responsible for reposting art in the first place. I mean, why else do you think Japanese artists are saying “Reprint is prohibited” in English when the rest of their bio is in Japanese? Because English-speakers are the ones reposting.

“But exposure can help an artist!”

Yeah, that’s true...

...but “exposure” doesn’t mean much if those “exposed” to one’s work don’t know or care who it came from.

And if you need even more reasons, look no further than these posts about the same topic by other blogs:

https://cranberrywitch.tumblr.com/post/143456002228/stop-reposting-art-from-japanese-artists

https://thegospelofnagisa.tumblr.com/post/143308182398

https://edendaphne.tumblr.com/post/163117317030/ive-been-wanting-to-make-this-educational-cheat

https://marklightgreatsword.tumblr.com/post/190056977650/discourage-art-theft-in-fandom-in-2020-dont

https://letusrespectpixivartistconsent.tumblr.com/post/92189994896/why-is-this-important

also, not to self-promote but I made a thread on Twitter on this topic about a month ago that you can check out here.

That’s all.

posted Jun 14; last edit Jun 21

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functioningcog · 4 years

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Hitting the bail button

"Commercial television delivers 20 million people a minute. In commercial broadcasting the viewer pays for the privilege of having himself sold. It is the consumer who is consumed. You are the product of TV. You are delivered to the advertiser who is the customer. He consumes you. The viewer is not responsible for programming - You are the end product."(Serra and Fay, 1973)

If it was true of television, it's even more true in the interactive and widespread media platforms of today. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc. Their brands are omnipresent. You are not their consumer. You are their product, and your data is offered and sold to the highest bidder. I have known this for sometime, but the mountain of reasons not to participate has finally tipped me over the edge. I am deleting Facebook. This doesn't make me better than anyone else, nor am I hear to preach. I just thought I'd share with you my reasons. Do with it what you will. First, a look into the past. Both mine, and ours.

In the fast food documentary "Super Size Me", one of the participants tells an anecdotal tale about cigarette companies of the past. Long before it became socially taboo to smoke, advertising for cigarettes was as commonplace, though maybe not as entertaining, as many ads we see today. Big Tobacco went further though; they advertised directly to children. Children far below legal smoking age were given toy cigarettes. It's hard today to see this as innocuous, but I imagine at the time most people had far bigger things to worry about. Well, those little innocuous toy cigarettes often had name brands on them. The tobacco companies were practicing "brand imprinting" on children as young as toddlers. They would pretend to smoke with their parents, and later on when they were old enough to smoke, they would unconsciously reach for the name brand they were familiar with. The sinister side of marketing, hard at work. It has not changed or improved in the years since.

Once when I was a kid, my father sat me down to have a talk. I wasn't in trouble; just being educated. The topic was Pokémon. The adorable, ubiquitous, trademarked pocket monsters that have dominated their corner of popular media for just about the same amount of time as I have been alive. They exist in many forms, and have evolved with the times. Videogames, toys both stuffed and model-like, card games, TV shows and films, all ad infinitum. My dad told me about the addictive nature of the games; how it's designed to grab hold of your attention, and your pocket book, and never let go. I don't remember his exact words, but the message has never left me. "Pokémon is addictive. I'm not going to buy you addictive things".

Not only is Pokémon addictive, but my father also stressed the fact that it creates a never-ending cycle for itself. There will always be new games, new cards, etc. Many medias that we enjoy have a planned ending to them. Movies, books, most TV shows, etc. They conclude and we move on to something else. We now live in an age where some of the most pervasive means of entertainment do not end. There is no logical stopping point. You can look at memes and posts and photos as long as your heart desires.

Note on Pokémon: I don't think the brand itself is evil. I have played the games in recent years and enjoy them. The lesson my dad taught me about addictions and marketing just happened to feature them. I wish I could say I have continued to avoid addictive habits and tech as an adult, but the battle is a lifelong one. Other addictions, mostly minor, have come and gone. It is the most pervasive and major one that brings me here; "Facebook"

Before I dive more into my own experience with Facebook, I'd like to share with you several of the most important influences that led me here today. The first is a fictional short story told via the anthology series "Black Mirror"; a favorite show of mine. The other two are documentaries, one from last summer and one newly released.

If you are unfamiliar with the show Black Mirror, it is an anthology series that explores the ethics and future of technology in our world through short self-contained stories. I highly recommend it. The Season 3 episode "Nosedive" follows a young woman in a world in which social standing is determined by internet interactions. People like and rate each other based on every interaction throughout their day. On your best behavior? You get some points. Accidentally snap at someone or make an off-color joke? You lose some points. Those points determine what events you attend, what cars you drive in, what jobs you can do, etc. It's not hard to extrapolate from there how our society is already well on its way to this kind of a system. The more addicted to social media we are, the more our lives revolve around the attention we get there. Likes and comments dominate our daily mood; they certainly have mine for years. It made me uncomfortable to realize how much my emotions could be controlled by digital reactions, or lack thereof. As "Nosedive" faded to black, I immediately pulled up my Facebook feed and then froze in place for a minute. "This is it. I'm looking at it". A sobering realization, yet I didn't stop my usage. The addiction continued, but no longer felt wholly innocent. By the by, this technology now exists in China. Look it up.

"The Great Hack" tells the story of a British Company called Cambridge Analytica, and how it developed it's technology to a point which the British government labeled "weapons grade communication". Analytica had contracts with a number of internet companies and groups to collect data on their users and used this data to develop tools, ads and propaganda designed to affect their target audience in highly specific ways. With the knowledge freely and unwittingly offered up by social media users, the degree to which you can predict and direct the users behavior and actions is truly disturbing. It's just human psychology and sociology combined with the newest tech. Cambridge Analytica used this data to influence elections in a number of countries around the globe, most notably the U.S. 2016 and the Brexit campaign in the U.K. They were hired first by Ted Cruz, then by Donald Trump's campaign. At the peak of the election season their American home base was being funded to the tune of over a million dollars a day and by it's end they had created and shared literally millions of targeted ads on social media. Were the ads truthful or reliable? Didn't matter. They were targeted at people most likely to shift their opinion based on the right information. And it worked. I wouldn't say that they single-handedly won the election for Trump, but they played a major part.

Cambridge Analytica was later shut down, but the cat’s out of the bag. I would expect to see both sides playing by these new rules throughout 2020. And that's all without even mentioning Russian hackers and bots, which Cambridge Analytica had nothing to do with. This documentary disturbed me. My own internal arguments and justifications in favor of Facebook were wearing thin. I began attempting to limit my usage, and calling out unreliable news posts when I saw them. But I also kept logging on daily. Repeatedly. My awareness of my addiction was growing more acute. I noticed my own behavior and reactions to the site more than before. The camels back was just a couple straws away from breaking point.

“Screened Out” focuses primarily on the how and why of social medias effects on us as people. The aforementioned psychology of what's happening. Turns out, it was always intended to addict us and keep us coming back for more. It's inherent in the design. Like gambling, like cocaine, our seemingly innocent social media is triggering dopamine reactions in our brain. Every like, every reaction, every notification is designed to draw your attention and satisfy the itch the system itself gave you. It was crafted this way knowingly and intentionally. The most widespread addiction in our modern world is available for all ages and free to top it off. Just like those toy cigarettes I mentioned earlier, the tech companies and marketing developers know quite well that children are more unsuspecting and susceptible to addictive behaviors and media. My childhood was predominantly internet free, and for that I am thankful; my addiction developed as an adult. But many children of today have all the access they want to social media and it's hard to argue it’s a good thing. They are becoming reliant on and obsessed with their image and perception before they even know who they are. Their addiction has drawn many of them into depression, or even suicide. Is being "connected" really worth it at this price?

One of the most common and persistent things I've told myself: "It's a way to stay in touch with family and friends". Yes, it certainly is. When the site was created, that goal was much more front and center and easier to enjoy. It's an admirable goal too, and if it works for you I'm happy for you. From where I'm sitting, Facebook's use for that well-meaning purpose has taken a backseat to what dominates its feed. As I scroll through multiple times a day, 80-90% of what I see is ads for things I don't need, news that I usually could do without or that is outright false, memes I could find elsewhere and people arguing and debating topics that are better discussed in person or not at all. This is what Facebook is for me now. That once enticing prospect of glimpsing the lives of my friends and family surfaces from time to time, and it's still enjoyable. Unfortunately, the bad outweighs the good these days. Again, if your experience is better than mine, please enjoy it and I'm happy for you. Aside from "Screened Out", the last piece of this decision was caused by nature; not human, but microscopic. I already knew about how fake news is created and spread via Facebook and Twitter. Donald Trump showed us just how incredibly effective it is and more evidence is not really necessary. Enter COVID-19. A global pandemic that should unite people of all beliefs in a common goal of defending ourselves from an enemy that has no morals or code. An enemy that has no mind or plan of its own. It simply spreads.

What did social media do in the face of this crises? Everything negative and nefarious about it kicked into high gear and was on full display. False narratives and conspiracies that actually endanger lives in the immediate future spread like wildfire. People arguing about data and statistics that effect us all and are utterly bipartisan. Guys, this is not ok. I do not think it an exaggeration to say that social media is precipitating a partial or total collapse of society. Something must be done to fix it, and I don't know what that something is. But I'm bowing out. This is not a system that can be fixed from the inside. Picture a casino sponsoring a gambling addicts rehab right next to the slot machines. You'd be better served just not going. As I said at the beginning, I don't want to sound preachy. My goal here was to share my decision making process and some information sources that you might appreciate. Maybe you're better at tuning out the bad side of social media than I am. Maybe you have ways by which you limit your exposure to it. I personally have addictive tendencies, and this is my way of addressing one of my longest and most insidious habits. And yes, I know that tumblr is technically another social media platform. My current intention is to use it as an outlet for my writing.

If you read all that, hi-five. Maybe being off Facebook will lead me to write more on my blog. I wish you all well and look forward to talking to you on other platforms or in person. Peace - JCP

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