Whistling in the Wind: A Comment on Comments
Last week I found myself checking through my old, posted comments on YouTube. Though I was keenly aware of the futile motivation behind this, I continued, nonetheless, until I safely verified that each and every one my two centavos were intact. This got me thinking on the so-called dialogue between content producers and audiences on the internet. Yes; I know posting user comments helps content producers gauge audience response, and that said response can sometimes have a positive impact on future content. And, yes, I know that some content producers actually read and reply to their audience, sometimes too often. But, in a lot of ways, commenting is like a micro version of publishing without a pre-established fanbase: You never know who's listening (if anyone) or what kind of response you'll get (if any). And that thought brought back a feeling of emptiness I experienced during one of my YouTube binges.
It hit me while watching The Philip DeFranco Show. The channel's eponymous host has got an undeniably witty panache, but after a few viewings I was inexplicably nauseated by the whole thing before I realized what it was. The show is basically a news feed/gossip column of the latest goings-on in pop culture, and after a handful of episodes I came to the conclusion that he only comments on things that are, at best, shallow, and at worst, totally uninteresting. What distinguishes him is that he does this with style. And that's when I gleaned something of an epiphany: almost everything out there that is remarkably well-crafted (from a technical standpoint) is just a marketing gimmick. Even those who start off creating material just for the hell of it wind up producing increasingly commercial stuff once they get good at it. I don't begrudge these people their success — well… maybe just a little. They're doing what they love and getting compensated for it. It's the endless pitching that annoys me.
Popular content makers have a tendency to repetitively encourage users to do inane things like comment, rate their posts, subscribe, or visit some other website or another. Now, these activities aren't inherently pointless in and of themselves, but more and more often I find they only serve the purpose of a) increasing a content creator's marketability or b) leading the user to yet more commercial crap. This comes by way of nettlesome promos that sometimes accompany web content. In the case of YouTube videos, this is typically done through annotations or (worst of all) by embedding the ad in a video itself (see Exhibit A) or, more commonly, by urging the viewer to enter some lame contest or tune in to a particular piece of programming at a certain time — which I balk at; the glory of the digital age is that I can experience any piece of content when and, increasingly, where I choose.
I suppose the exception to this would be live sessions where fans of one content creator can directly interact with that person. However, depending on how popular a content creator is, your chances of doing this could be anywhere from highly likely to damn nigh impossible. For instance, if pulling up all the user posted comments for popular page makes your browser lag, then it's a signal that any further verbiage from you will be buried more thoroughly than Pompeii. On the flip side, posting a comment on an unpopular page can also prove equally unresponsive. One explanation for this, beyond these people doing other things with their time, is that since they don't get as much attention, they, in turn, pay less attention to their audience. Which brings me back to the whole point of this diatribe: The futility of trying to connect or engage in any type of meaningful dialogue with the folks who produce work we enjoy. Posting comments, replying to tweets — celebrity tweets in particular — racking up page hits, etc. seems akin to standing in a five-hour line for a chance to get a celebrity's picture and autograph, with maybe a minute of small talk thrown in. The difference is you don't have to wait anymore and there's no guarantee there will actually be someone there on the other end.