I resisted the burning urge to write this entry about sex
appeal, but I figured I’d still throw in a little sensual diction so that an optimal quantity of people would ogle this entry with insatiable longing.
As I read through Martin Lindstrom’s 255-paged essay, Brandwashed, I was struck by the term “generational
lap,” using Levi’s popularity in the sixties as compared to their relative “lame-ness”
these days as an example. Basically,
what’s cool for Dad is very not cool for Junior.
Well, most of the time, anyway.
I also wanted to shie away from talking about video games, since I'd already mentioned them last week, but, alas, we all have urges. I recalled a particularly amusing gem from 2011, the action/horror/survival/sci-fi/but mainly action game Dead Space 2. It's one of the more violent video games out there, and, land sakes, is it fun. You play as a fellow named Isaac Clarke (because Arthur Asimov really doesn't roll off the tongue and Philip K. Adams was apparently already taken), who is constantly fighting off a horde of creatures that reanimate the flesh of the dead to kill more people and thus have more dead flesh for you to fight against. So, you know, zombies. Clearly this isn't a game you want your mother to know about it if you're a seventeen year-old looking for an action-packed gore fest. EA games marketed off of this very idea:
You'll notice that while it seems like a "behind the scenes" documentary, and, indeed, is one, it's actually an advertisement. It capitalizes on the horror with which your mother would receive this game. You'd be in such big trouble if you played it. "I bet it's really cool," they want you to think. Personally, I thought, "ew, a bunch of sweaty, middle-aged men in suits want me to think this game is some sort of rebellious statement. That's dumb, but..." Yeah, I played it anyway. I had a lot of fun. While the campaign was controversial, as expected, it also won marketing awards for EA games.
Enough about video games. Look at social networks. Look back at me. Now look back at social networks. I imagine the first time you looked, you saw Facebook. I imagined the second time you looked, you saw Twitter. I imagine neither time you looked at me you saw Ryan Gosling, but we can all dream, right? Anyway, I remember being skeptical about Twitter in the past. "140 characters? That's such a sign of the times," I would say, as I scorned the zeitgeist, sat on my sofa, sipped chamomile, and watched Vanya on 42nd Street. Now, I'm on Twitter much more than I'm on ever on Facebook, and for five reasons:
1) Twitter allows and encourages direct access to news and posts from celebrities and media companies.
2) Twitter is limited to 140 characters or less--which means that even idiots can't take up too much space on your feed.
3) Without the instant feedback mechanic of the "like," Twitterers are less inclined to "like in 3 seconds if they've seen a show from the 90's." There has yet to be an "annoying Twitter girl" meme."
4) You are encouraged to tweet in bulk, whereas multiple statuses on Facebook tend to suggest you have no life or desperately need attention.
5) My parents, my relatives; no one like that is on Twitter. No one I know above the age of thirty is on Twitter, and I'm excluding celebrities, because celebrities are gods and therefore do not age (that statement's for a different entry).
"Those are good reasons."
Let's look at that last one. Ever notice how many of the older half of the boomer generation has jumped on Facebook as of late? It actually makes a lot of sense. It's a great way to stay connected to one's children and grandchildren, to not feel left out as one becomes less mobile. It's a testament to Facebook's popularity. However, it's also a harbinger of its eventual downfall, which I predict is coming soon. There's a pragmatic and a branding reason for this. The pragmatic reason has to do with adapting to technology. Technology is tougher to keep up with the more it changes and the older you get. Thus, you have people from a certain age demographic commenting on a picture "I like this!" when they really ought to just hit the like button, or going through your entire wall and liking every single status you make. Etc. We all know what the issues are. Suddenly, Facebook starts feeling a lot more like that one youth retreat where the leaders are all above fifty and think singing "Born to be Wild" is edgy (that's actually a true story).
So the generational lap occurs: the young generation moves on to the next big social network, and at this point the only one that has that kind of clout is Twitter (nice try, Google+ --can I say that on Blogger?). Twitter has that character cap that keeps the old people away, and you can enjoy being social (or rather letting people know how social you are) in a more youthful setting. Facebook is now Levis, Twitter is skinny jeans, and Your Mom Hates Twitter.
"Who would write something this awful?"
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