EPIC WIN FOR ANONYMOUS (2 page)

While the rise of Yosemite Bear and Toby Radloff share the same “look at this random everyday weirdo” element, the means by which each achieved mainstream exposure is different. Radloff got big because some TV execs decided he was a quirky character and put him on TV. Yosemite Bear eventually made it all the way to the small screen as well, but it happened because millions of links were instant-messaged back and forth. Thousands of tweets. Hundreds of blog posts. The rise was perpetuated by an unorganized grassroots movement. If you are aware of Yosemite Bear, it’s because his meme was strong enough to beat out the millions of other memes competing for your attention.

Memes had spread virally before the Internet as well. Consider the strange story of
Shut Up Little Man
, a series of recordings from the ’80s made by a couple of guys living in San Francisco. Fascinating documents of bizarre humanity, the tapes captured the sounds of the guys’ misanthropic neighbors hurling drunken insults at each other. The recordings were passed from friend to friend on cassette tapes. People made copies of copies. They became what we used to call “cult hits” in the burgeoning alternative West Coast zine culture. Since then, the recordings have been turned into a puppet show, a feature length drama, and a documentary that debuted in 2011.

OK, so we’ve established that there’s nothing new under the sun. As I mentioned in the introduction, this isn’t a book about explaining the way technology has changed the way we behave. The Internet didn’t invent memes; it just expanded their scope and ramped up the frequency of their creation.

According to Eddie Lee Sausage, one of the guys who made the
Shut Up Little Man
recordings (whom I interviewed for urlesque.com), experimental jazz composer John Zorn sampled them in his music. And they didn’t peter out with the rise of the Internet. Within two days of Mel Gibson’s racist rant against his now ex-girlfriend, some anonymous YouTube user had mashed up the rant with the audio from
Shut Up Little Man.
A similar mashup was created when Christian Bale famously flipped out on some poor lighting guy on the set of
Terminator Salvation
.

Speaking of music, consider hip hop culture, which is based on sampling, the practice of taking someone else’s work, mixing it with the output of others, adding some of your own bits, and fusing it all together into something fresh. Many of today’s hip hop producers sample classic hip hop loops, which are themselves made up of bits of soul and jazz from the ’60s and ’70s. And the beats are only part of this cultural milieu. B-boy dancing, MCing (rapping), and graffiti are layered over the music in a rich sensory experience that vividly demonstrates the way all art evolves memetically.

The graffiti that evolved from hip hop culture is a prominent pre-Internet visual meme. Like many memes, graffiti is a means of showing off creativity or spreading a message. Sometimes graffiti artists just want to mark their territory. We’ve all probably seen “X was here” scrawled on a bathroom stall at some point. Where did that come from? Why is it observed all over the world? A suspected root of the meme is the “Kilroy was here” iteration, which features a bald-headed cartoon man with a long nose peeking over a wall.

Kilroy can be found in countless locations, scribbled on beachheads, landmarks—even the Berlin Wall. No one is quite sure who Kilroy is, and even the name is up for dispute, with variants that include Foo, Chad, Smoe, Clem, and others. Some suspect that the phrase originated among US servicemen marking places they’d been during tours of duty. Some historians place Kilroy’s origins as far back as the 1930s. Regardless of where he came from, Kilroy is a wonderful example of a visual icon that motivated people to spread the meme virally, for no monetary or reputation benefit. They just wanted to be part of the meme.

Hide Ya Kids

I’ll never forget the moment I first heard a woman singing The Gregory Brothers’ “Bed Intruder,” in a bar in the summer of 2010. For me it was a singularity that represented a shift in popular culture, the moment when Internet ephemera became solidified in the mainstream.

When people ask me what memes are I usually respond, “Have you ever heard of lolcats? You know, those funny cat photos with the misspelled captions?”

If that doesn’t work, I’ll say, “How about Antoine Dodson? That guy from the projects? There was that song? Hide ya kids? Hide ya wife? Nothing?”

Usually, by the time I get to “Hide ya wife,” a wave of recognition washes over this uninitiated person’s face, and I’m grateful I don’t have to explain why an attempted rape is supposed to be funny. But that’s what I’ll do here.

In July 2010, Antoine Dodson was filmed by a local NBC affiliate in his Hunstville, Alabama housing project, where an unknown attacker had attempted to rape his sister the previous night. The video features an impassioned plea by Dodson:

Well, obviously we have a rapist in Lincoln Park. He’s climbin’ in your windows. He’s snatchin’ your people up, tryna rape em. So y’all need to hide your kids, hide your wife, and hide your husbands ‘cause they rapin’ everybody out here.

Antoine became an overnight meme celebrity, but he rocketed to fame when his monologue was Auto-Tuned by musical comedy group The Gregory Brothers a few days later. The song was posted on iTunes and reached the Billboard charts, and The Gregory Brothers split the profits halfway with Antoine, enabling him to get out of the projects. At this point, Antoine is nearly as recognizable a pop-culture icon as Justin Bieber or Lady Gaga. He’s appeared on BET, the
Today Show
,
and
Lopez Tonight
.

Many people felt that the humor of the clip was derived from a near-tragedy resulting from the plight of poor urban communities. The original coverage struck many as exploitative, as though Huntsville’s NBC affiliate WAFF aired Antoine’s ebonics-filled tirade for no other reason than to laugh at the uneducated black guy. Feminist bloggers wondered how a guy’s goofy rant so easily overshadowed his sister’s painful ordeal.

Nonetheless, the video racked up millions of views, becoming one of the fastest-expanding memes in history. Antoine saw an opportunity and rode the meme celebrity train for all it was worth. Merchandise, TV spots, promotional campaigns, you name it: Antoine was all over the place. He became almost a modern-day folk hero. Thousands of YouTube videos remixed, mashed up, and otherwise parodied the original. Even if the original video had been out of his control, at least Antoine was able to own his viral fame. On his personal site he proclaimed:

You all made me who I am today and for that I will for ever be in your debt. Once again I say thank you from me and on behalf of my entire family. I love you guys so much. You have given me this opportunity to shine so dammit I’m going to shine.

As of this writing, Dodson is working on an upcoming reality TV show.

Keeping Up With the New Language

People use the word
meme
to describe visual content like videos or photos or offbeat microcelebrities, but it’s important to recognize that the meme is the concept. A photo or video might be just one execution of that concept among many. As memes evolve, they branch out in countless ways, shifting and merging with other mashed-up, mutated memes. Sometimes, in order to understand a given iteration of a meme, one must also be familiar with dozens of others.

Here’s an analogy. The world of ABC’s show
Lost
, which captivated TV viewers in the 2000s, demanded an unprecedented amount of attention from its fans. Each episode contained dozens of storylines, playing out bit by bit. There were so many characters and relationships to keep track of. One could not just jump into the show mid-episode, let alone mid-season. An offhand joke, or even a wordless facial expression, could be a reference calling back to an occurrence from an episode originally aired years prior. People who tried to pick up the show but hadn’t watched earlier seasons were, uh, lost.

So it is in the world of memes. Keeping up with the Internet’s daily output of fresh memes will likely define the watercooler conversation of tomorrow. A host of wikis, blogs, and even books have appeared over the last few years to try to make sense of it all. The structure of hypertext makes it easy to explore branching clusters of increasingly granular information. But given the availability of information on the web, the network of memetic information increasingly demands more from casual browsers. If I see something on 4chan and don’t know what it means, I follow an informal process for figuring it out. This likely will start with a Google search, followed by a few quick scans of Wikipedia entries. If the meme is too obscure for Wikipedia, I might have to browse Encyclopedia Dramatica or Urban Dictionary. If it deals with entertainment I might instead opt for the Internet Movie Database or Allmusic. I may consult Google News or Technorati to see if there’s been any recent related web chatter. By the time I’ve fully explored the information, my browser is full of tabs.

As the Internet facilitates a growing network of increasingly complex memes, the gulf expands between those in the know and those who aren’t privy to meme culture. There is a new language of memes forming, and I’m not referring to lolspeak or leetspeak. What I call the language of memes is not Internet slang, but a new visual way that people succinctly communicate emotions and opinions. Cheezburger CEO Ben Huh calls it the “visual vernacular.”

Those who aren’t able to keep up with all the latest cultural iconography won’t be able to engage in the conversation. Knowing how to source the roots of memetic language will become an increasingly valuable skill as the network of memetic imagery becomes progressively more complex and people are expected to be more familiar with obscure web phenomena. Ignoring Internet memes will be equivalent to showing up to the office watercooler having watched none of last night’s primetime content.

Dude, You’ve Got to See This

What compels people to share this stuff? The same impulse that incites us to gossip and share jokes. We want other people to enjoy the information we’ve acquired, and we get a mental kick out of being the ones to share it. This is as universal and historic a human characteristic as the need to eat. Sharing information, no matter how trivial, solidifies societal bonds and deepens relationships. These shared points of reference make up life as much as our inside jokes at work or gossip at church.

Clay Shirky has made waves in the last few years as being a kind of Marshall McLuhan for the Web 2.0 era. Throughout his two books,
Cognitive Dissonance
and
Here Comes Everybody
, Shirky provides the kind of commentary that fills one with excitement for being a part of the web right now. We’re making things happen! It’s a new stage in human social evolution! Look at all the cool stuff the Internet lets us do!

In
Cognitive Dissonance
, Shirky uses the lolcats found at http://www.icanhascheezburger.com as a convenient representative for what he calls “the stupidest possible creative act,” as opposed to, say, improving a Wikipedia entry or creating a platform for financing human rights projects in the third world. I asked him about this, and he laughed.

“Actually, I love Cheezburger.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a bit less guilty for spending more time laughing at “fail” videos than I’ve contributed to building out Linux.

He quickly added, “I’m not going to hold them up as a paragon of human intellectual achievement, but . . .”

Fair enough. He continued.

. . . I do think there’s lasting social value in it. There’s a spectrum of creativity from mediocrity to excellence, but there’s a gulf between doing nothing and doing something. And anyone who’s slapped a few words on a picture of their cat has already crossed that gulf. The invitation to make something and share it with other people on that scale is so radically different from what we were capable of doing in the twentieth century, that even a lolcat, one of the stupidest creative acts, is still a creative act.

Clay explains that we regard lolcats as an inexplicable novelty because the network on which they happen is so new. But the drive to share funny or interesting things with each other is a deeply entrenched human (not to mention animal) trait. So people who shake their heads and say, “Why would anyone waste their time with this stuff?” don’t recognize that this impulse is nothing new. What’s new is the scale of the sharing.

Think of the aforementioned watercooler conversation. Or the bulletin board–covered walls of the college dorm room, festooned with satirical flyers, newspaper cutouts, editorial cartoons, and other ephemera. I remember as a kid visiting the shop floor where my dad worked, and noticing that he’d covered a filing cabinet with hundreds of magazine ads and other imagery. He’d used a Sharpie to draw mustaches and black eyes on the models, or given them speech bubbles, granting the images the ability to mock his coworkers.

I asked Buzzfeed’s senior editor Scott Lamb how he responds to people who think the world of memes is a waste of time.

Bad romantic comedies are a waste of time. But very little Internet culture counts as that—as a waste—for me. First of all, it asks so little of you. Ten to fifteen seconds to scan a post, at most two minutes for a video? And most memes can be read and understood much faster than that.