Humor has been missing from my life. I don’t see, read, watch, or hear nearly as many funny things as I used to. I blame, at least in part, the digital environment of our current age and my recent living situations. There was a time, back when I owned a house, when I would read the comics (and the newspaper) every morning. Because I owned a house on a residential street in a quiet suburban neighborhood, and because I believed in supporting local news, I subscribed to, and had delivered, the local paper. And every day, I read the paper and the two pages of comics it included (four pages on Sundays). My cat Nick read the paper too – especially the comics.
I still read the news every morning, but I don’t read a physical newspaper. Instead, I scroll headlines online. Because I don’t read a physical newspaper, I don’t read the comics. Because I don’t read the comics, I have less humor in my life. I should probably do something about that.
Today is March 1st. The date reminded me of the Mutts comic posted at the top. My ex wife liked that one. We had it, along with a few other comics, cut out from the paper and magnet-stuck to the fridge. At some point, I decided I didn’t want to be a person with things magnet-stuck to the fridge. It felt tacky. I think I held on to the comics – at least for a little while. Though I’m pretty sure they’ve since been purged in one of the moves. I still have the magnets in a box somewhere.
Now, in my currently humorless life, my phone is my digital fridge. There, I have screenshots of memes and things I found funny – usually from Facebook, Twitter, or texts my friends have sent (that they found on Twitter of Facebook or Instagram).
While I have access to these images and memes at all times, which is great for sharing when I’m out at a bar (provided I can find the image in the x hundred images on my phone), something about it feels less rich or less rewarding. That’s not to say that I think having a print copy of these funny things is better, but I think the old packaging/curating of a physical newspaper is better. In some respects, it created more friction between user and ease of access which resulted in a slower and more intentional consumption of content. When you read the comics section in the paper, not only are you choosing to do so, but you know what you’re getting. To discover funny things now (at least the way I come across them), I first have to scroll through Janet’s posts about her train wreck of a divorce, 23 hot takes on Elmo Tusk’s latest bullshit statement, fours ads for dating sites, two ads for erectile dysfunction, three ads for shoes, razors, and pants, a video of some dude riding his motorcycle at 120mph, and another video of a guy trapping an alligator in a trash can – and then look, a funny cat meme. The point is, depending on the day, the algorithm, and whether or not I need new pants, I may or may not see funny shit. With the newspaper, I always knew I’d get the comics.
Of course, I have some control over this. I could curate my feeds better so that I see more comics and more funny things. I already do this with Twitter and poetry and cute animals… but even there, the feeds have gone to shit ever since a certain billionaire took over and fired all of the developers and moderators. As for the ads, I have little control over those things. I once looked up Dr. Marten’s shoes and my FB feed was then flooded with ads for shoes. I use dating sites and am inundated with ads about sexy singles in my area. I have not looked for razors, pants, or ED medication – those ads, I’m assuming, are based on my generic demographic: aging white male who’s probably too depressed for sex, and might need a good razor along with some fashionable pants with elastic waistbands.
At least once a week, I consider going full-on neo-luddite and abandoning my digital life. The only problem there, is that so much of my life (and modern life in general) relies on apps and platforms to keep me informed, to help me find dates and concerts, to introduce me to new and enjoyable poetry, art, bars, and restaurants, and to tell me when my ride (or the bus) is coming. And because many of these platforms are more interested in engagement than they are in user satisfaction, they’re not terribly inclined to do things that would limit engagement – such as monitor/police their sites for bad actors and disinformation or serve fewer ads.
Worse yet, they use tactics intentionally designed to get people to “upgrade” to the plus version. As a very real and recent example of this, I can cite my own experience with the dating app Hinge. Hinge is owned by Match Group, which also own Tinder, Match, and a bunch of other dating sites. Until yesterday, I was a subscriber on hinge – which meant that I paid a monthly fee. That fee allowed me to see the profiles of the people who had liked me, it gave me additional opportunities to reach out to people, it gave me greater control over the filters I applied to my searches. As someone who has used the app on and off for a few years, there are some predictable patterns that have emerged. Anytime I change my location, I get a handful of new likes (maybe five to ten to fifteen per day for a week or two). Anytime I update my profile, I get a handful of new likes (maybe three or four per day for a few days). Yesterday, the day after my subscription expired (and nearly all new likes would be blurred unless I was a subscriber), I suddenly got twenty-two new likes on the app. I don’t have the raw data to “prove” any of this, and I don’t know what changes are made behind the scenes when someone subscribes vs. unsubscribes. What I do know is that the company is being sued for manipulating their algorithms to boost subscribers and to keep people engaged. And while I’m aware of these shitty practices and have willingly subscribed in order to have a “better” experience, that awareness doesn’t make it any more palatable.
Of course, relying on digital platforms for just about everything in life can have far worse consequences than some manipulative business practices from an app trying to boost subscription rates. This past week’s episode of John Oliver’s Last Week Tonight focused on the scam known as pig butchering: a scam in which people are lured into online conversations that then become “friendships” or “relationships” which eventually result in the victim losing everything. If you have twenty minutes, give it a watch.Oliver is almost always funny and informative.
These types of scams have been around forever. Six years ago, I was friends with a woman through a dating site who frequently seemed to “meet” wealthy guys from other states or countries. They told her all of the things she wanted to hear. They often bragged about how financially secure they were… but there was always a catch. They’d love to come and meet up with her, but they were hacked and can’t access their bank account, or something like that. They’d string her along for weeks. I’d tell her they were scams and she’d share a text message from them as evidence that they were authentic and vulnerable people. She’d say that they’ve had such long and engaging text conversations – they have to be real. Fortunately, I don’t think she ever fell for the scamming part. For me, it feels like these scams would be easy to spot, but as Oliver points out, they are becoming increasingly more effective and plenty of very reasonable and normal people (not just suckers) get caught up in them every day.
Ironically, last night, as I watched the Oliver episode, I got a text from a number I didn’t know. They were sending me Spotify links to songs I should check out. I recently gave my number to a woman through a dating app. On the app, we were having a conversation in which we were swapping songs. The songs they sent were in keeping with the person’s taste, but without them saying, “hey, it’s so and so from that sexy singles and ready to mingle app” I have to “proceed with caution.” And seriously, I’m sick of living in a world where everyone is becoming overly cautious – mostly because we can’t rely on our tech overlords to protect our privacy let alone our rights and we can’t rely on each other to be decent human beings.
Earlier in the evening, I was texting with a different person – someone I met out at bar. She was saying that she was stood up again. This is the third or fourth time she’s been stood up in as many weeks. We were both lamenting that there’s a lot of garbage out there: fake accounts, flake accounts, people who just aren’t serious, people who aren’t people. We were in agreement that being single isn’t so bad except that you’re constantly in charge of your own entertainment. By which I mean, it’s easy for me to go out or stay in, but doing those things with someone has a different vibe to it. In some respects, it feels more relaxed. In some respects, it feels different or nicer when someone else is saying, “let’s go out and have a drink or let’s stay in and chill” compared to always trying to determine what you feel up to doing. In this respect it’s a little like the difference between driving and being a passenger.
Today is March 1st. The date will always remind me of the Mutts comic strip that was cut out and hung on the fridge – which is a reminder of times when we cut things out and hung them on the fridge. It feels like a good date to start something new or bring back something old. It feels like a good day to take inconsequential yet declarative stances on things or against things – maybe it has something to do with the sound of the date with its two single-syllable words and its commanding presence. What began as a contemplation on why I don’t have as much humor in my life as I used to has become yet another lamentation on how desire and seeking often leads to suffering… another vexation on living passively or with agency… another treatise on how our digital systems degrade under the pressures of profits… another shaking of the fist at a world that feels fast, scam-riddled, and decidedly less funny. Today, I feel the urge to consume less and to consume more deliberately. Today, I feel the urge to focus more, to go back to my analog past, to skip the bullshit of the superficial and instantaneous, and instead slowly dig for authenticity. Today I feel the urge to seek less, or seek differently. I’m not quite sure what any of that looks like, but I hope it’ll be funnier.