On the Ill-Advised 'Social' in Social Media: Comments

I don't read Internet comments most of the time, but sometimes I can't help it: a word or phrase catches my eye ("Nazi whore") — and I can't help but screech to a stop.

Bad idea.

Sometimes — often — too often — with alarming regularity, people "show others the error of their ways" via "general population" comments on media stories on the Web or social media posts. Please, please resist the urge: no one on the Internet wants to be educated by your comment. Not once have I known anyone to "see the light" because of an inflammatory comment left by friend or foe, acquaintance or stranger.

Usually, when I see such a statement or argument, I just move along and think, "Moron." (Sorry, it's true: such attempts at education often backfire. They just prove what I have suspected all along: I'm smarter than "you," person with your too-personal-to-be-relevant-to-me moniker and edgy avatar.) (Oh, c'mon: like you haven't thought the exact same thing.)

And yet...  every once in a while, I get sucked in with a pithy (or even verbose) inflammatory comment. Just last week, "Victoria" hijacked a conversation by a self-defined feminist group with the phrase mentioned above. Suddenly, Coco Chanel's quote wasn't about women's empowerment or feminism, but Victoria's hatred of Hitler and stupid Chanel for falling for his claptrap in the 1930s.

Now, Hitler falls into the category of "all evil, all the time." He might have encouraged the development of the Volkswagen Beetle, but he single-handedly — well, read the history books. So, no, I won't "like" a quote by Hitler on Facebook.

But Coco Chanel? Henry Ford? Margaret Sanger? If they supported Hitler back in the day, are they pure evil, too? And what about —

Wait! My blog has been hijacked by Hitler! And Victoria!

No, I hijacked this conversation myself. I injected Hitler and Victoria into my blog. I am the architect of my own derailment.

General comments on the Web often devolve into diatribes peppered with arguments that are summarily dismissed or trounced by the "louder" keyboard. Distracting? More often than not. Inflammatory? Guaranteed. Clever, witty and fair? Rarely — although if they are, they're buried in the miasma of poorly-written knee-jerk reactions.

No matter how much we pretend, social media are not discourse. They are platforms on which we reaffirm our ideas and philosophies — and become angry and frustrated when people post opposing materials. Remember the civil exchange of ideas during the 2012 U.S. election? Yeah, me neither. We abandoned our "friends" in droves, hiding updates in news feeds, un-friending, un-following and un-liking in record numbers. Take a look at your follow or friend list on Facebook and Twitter: anything there with which you don't agree? Yeah, me neither.

The same goes for news articles: rarely does it take more than a few comments before the "conversation" spins off-topic to a subject of the hijacker's concern. Choose a flashpoint: current U.S. President, political party, Hitler... 

We use Facebook to share the perfect someecards. Twitter serves of our pithy, brilliant thoughts. ("People may laugh at me because I am different, but I laugh at them because they all are the same.") Metallica fans don't usually share Barry Manilow YouTube videos in the spirit of appreciation. Vegetarians: how about those pork barbecue recipes? The same with blogs — you would not have read this far had you not found yourself nodding in agreement with something in it. Social media is not the tools with which we seek opposing viewpoints.

Pinterest has it right: post/share/tweet/pin the stuff that you like and leave the rest to someone else.

I release Victoria and Hitler — and, while I'm at it, Coco. I'll spend my time pining a Despicable Me 2 trailer (or two, including the one with the cat because I think that's the Law of the Internet). Thanks for reading (and nodding). And if you disagree, just move along.

Illusions of Privacy

I received a letter addressed to people who don't live in my house. Not that unusual: the U.S. Postal Service is generous enough to make sure plenty of people who used to live here still receive mail at this address.

The name on this mail was new, and it looked like a Christmas card. No last name on the return address, which wasn't insurmountable, but I'd had a long day and I wanted to take the path of least resistance.

I searched the web for the names of the recipients and what I think is their city and state. Bingo: right at the top of the list is someone on Twitter, Facebook, Linked In, Blogger, Pinterest and Google+ whose name matches one of the recipients, with a mention of the other addressee in the text below the link.

I visited the blog and found an e-mail address. I also found a photo of a woman large with child, comments about her continuing pregnancy and details about a recent visit to the obstetrician. Her blog posts contain quite a few photos and lots of details about her health, her alma mater, her husband — plenty of personal information, which appears to be the nature of her blog.

I sent her an e-mail, asking if there's an address to which I can send this mis-addressed correspondence.

Her response was hesitant. Yes, she has friends by the name and at the address I mentioned in my e-mail. She's contacted them to find out if they've sent something. In the meantime, she writes, obviously I can understand why she doesn't tell me where she lives.

Actually, no, I don't understand: I never asked where she lived. I asked to what address she wanted me to send her card. She could have given me any mailing address — her husband's office, a friend's address, general delivery. I'd have been glad to leave it on my porch for her, if that was her druthers. All I wanted to do was give her a card intended for her and her husband. It is, after all, Christmas.

I returned it to sender.

She told anyone with Internet access the status of her cervix, but she considered her address private. What a crazy world.

"Citizen Journalist" and Responsibility

The rise of "citizen journalists" is a double-edged sword.

For every video of an innocent person beaten by the police will be the fired federal worker accused of racism.

It is not the act of posting or writing that makes one a journalist, but the act of responsible reporting.

By assuming that mantle with a blog or a camera, you are responsible for the information you post.  Don't just claim to want the truth, seek it: ask multiple sources for information and actually report it.  Examine the facts and ask the hard questions.  Don't just run with a "too good to be true" video — there's no such thing.

Be a skeptic.

Oh, and verify, verify, verify.

Even journalists on reputable media get it wrong.  I would like to blame that on the immediacy that technology affords us, but it's always user error.  Technology is a tool.  It's the people who make it reliable and useful, and in the end it's the reponsibility of the media to get it right before they let it go.

The Apparent Anathema of Phone Numbers on the Web

I have spent the better part of today trying to find phone numbers on Web sites.

I fear they don't exist.

Don't get me wrong: I sympathize with those providing thorough information on the Internet. I do it myself, every day. The amount of time and energy it takes to post complete information should be rewarded by people using it.

However, there are plenty of people who do not have access to the Internet, or who have additional questions that are not covered (or not easily accessible) on the Web site.

Also, just because I think I've answered every question doesn't mean I have. Trust me, after answering thousands of phone calls about hundreds of subjects, I have a good idea of the kinds of questions people ask — and that I must answer with information I provide. However, there's always one — and for that reason alone, phone numbers are imperative both in publications and on Web sites.

I tried recently to find out the phone number for VitalChek. There literally was not a contact phone number on the Web site. I looked for 20 minutes on multiple pages. I also noted this Web site did not have a "contact us" link on any page. There were links on assorted pages for assorted services, but not a phone number on site (or in sight).

Granted, if I really wanted a phone number, I can call directory assistance (there are directories for both "local" calls and toll-free numbers). However, I found out about the service from a state Web site — which linked to VitalChek.

The same for utilities: if I want to set up cable service, or telephone service, finding a number on the Web is a challenge. Thankfully, though, these companies have "contact us" sections accessible from the home page. Now, every "contact us" page plugs the online service with great fervor — and that's fine with me. Just give me a phone number so I have choices.

By the way, the amount of information needed just to get a phone number for a "local" utility is phenomenal. What ever happened to the law against monopolies? Ask Ma Bell, who was divvied up — just to find new life a few decades later offering multiple services in numerous states: cable television, telephone (landline and cellular) and Internet service.

Next: human beings actually answering the phone — myth or reality?