New Year's Eve Psuedomemes 2019

If ever there was a year for auld acquaintances—the personal and professional— to suddenly be relegated to their place in the past, it was 2018. I left the comforts of the home I made over a dozen years of living in central Vermont, and headed west, with a Subaru full of instruments, clothes, and frontier spirit. I asked for and was granted an unpaid year of leave from my institution, Vermont Technical College, and my position in the English, Humanities, and Social Sciences department. In my role as project manager for Urban Neighborhoods, Inc., I have taken on a number of tasks towards historic preservation and research related to buildings in Trinidad, Colorado, including the Fox (West) Theater on Main St. The change of scenery has been startling, but welcome.

Above and around us circles uncertainty—economic, social, political. The heroics of the past cannot dismiss the inarticulate and sloppy sins of the present. The future is ours with which to make something new, to refresh the best institutions in our society and to question every convention. In the spirit of a better future—one in which humankind treats each other with more fairness than ever before—the images below are presented. 

These are psuedomemes—memes built of advertisements printed long ago. I believe the meme continues to be a vehicle for important social, political, and economic statements of belief; regardless of the corporate channels through which they may be transmitted, (the best) memes are often homespun, grassroots, uncited, simple. These images are taken from Exhibitor magazines, circa 1967-68. Each—taken metaphorically—may be a New Year’s greeting to you, and may hold some prophecy for the next 12 months: what might be stopped forever? What big thrills will go over big, and what will actually play well in your house? What ballyhoo, and what classifications may come? What love in the afternoon? What profits, what promotions, and what new and high times?  

As for auld acquaintances-- let it be said-- these shall ne'er be forgot, but held dear, if only as memory. All the best in the 2019-- 

On the 80th Anniversary of Fake News

As heard on November 5th, 2018 on The Audacity of Trivia, a weekly podcast featuring Chris Smith and Jon Ross. For more, visit audacityoftrivia.com

Eighty years ago last week Americans tuned in their radios to the Mercury Theatre on the Air and heard what we may call today fake news: bulletins about an alien invasion interrupt musical interludes, unknown objects crash through New Jersey farmstead rooftops, and a panic ensues, climaxing in a cloud of poisonous gas encircling NYC. The War Of the Worlds was foundational fictional fearmongering, a narrative inspired by the media and those who use it, to illicit response from an audience. 

Orson Welles probably knew what many modern critics like to point out today about War of the Worlds: that people believed what their radio told them, and the realism of the narrative was supported best by the lack of commercial interruptions, as if the situation had become dire enough that CBS was willing to forgo ad revenue. Secondarily, it was the minor details that convinced radio listeners aliens had indeed landed on our shores and were beginning an attack on our civilization.

People trusted the box that told them things in their home. People still trust the boxes that tell them things. 

Over this past week, as if in commemoration of the 80^th anniversary of Orson Welles’ groundbreaking broadcast, President Trump has made loose and allegedly false accusations about those traveling in a caravan through Mexico, seeking to reach and cross the US border. The intention of purporting this narrative can’t be far from what Welles had in mind: to see to what extent the American people may not only assimilate and live out a belief, but to do so with a voice that assumes and garners respect from its audience, simply by its pretending to be alive. The card of no-commercial-interruptions, as if a situation of national panic were taking place, has long been played by some major media networks, and will surely be played tonight during the President’s rally in Florida.

But the locus of control is changing, Rosebud. I can as easily launch a fake alien invasion from my desktop as Welles could from behind a microphone in 1938. The War of the Worlds President Trump waged last week was a shameless attempt at rallying what is left of the Republican base prior to the midterm elections. Unlike Orson Welles, who used fake aliens, Trump used real people with real problems. Today, in this midterm election which has become no less than a war of worlds, human dignity appears to be the loser.  

The Dankest We've Seen, in Terms of Memes

Over the weekend I received an email with the subject line: "Do you know who owns this image?" The inquiry came from a different corner of Colorado; the person found the meme below on my blog, and was asking if I knew its origin, as they said they were interested in putting the image on a billboard. 

I had no information to share: memes are generally uncited and shared freely, and this one-- like the hundreds of others I have posted to this blog-- came without attribution. Whether this image, or any meme I've copied and provided, has or will appear on a billboard I cannot determine. I do know that the meme remains an important component of the United States' rhetorical conversations, despite being ignored by mainstream media. Memes are not usually born of corporations, but rather represent the crude image-editing endeavors of real people (or foreign governments' propaganda machines), for casual consumption and sharing via social media. 

I began collecting memes prior to the Presidential election of 2016, and wondered then what the future of the meme would be. Interestingly, the form has not fallen into disuse, but rather continues to serve as a viable and immediate means of response to political, social, racial, and economic issues. Nike's advertising campaign featuring Colin Kaepernick inspired hundreds of iterations; Brett Kavanaugh's nomination to the Supreme Court and accusations of his sexual assault in college similarly inspired a wave of memes. 

What is a meme? My definition includes not only clever Photoshop distortions and infographics, but political cartoons, tweets and responses, and screenshots: images commonly distributed within the same channels as memes. One form of meme that has become interestingly popular involves the captioning of individuals, to represent a rhetorical situation (one that is repeated in this collection involves a man looks adoringly at another woman while his female partner looks at him with scorn). Other memes continue to draw from popular culture: one interesting meme in this collection includes Will Ferrell and the Photoshopped head of Donald Trump, in a scene from a Saturday Night Live sketch. As Hurricane Florence approached the east coast earlier this month, one Facebook group devoted to memes challenged its participants to a contest involving the image of Trump tossing paper towels in Puerto Rico. Efforts such as these reinforce the importance of the form, and make certain its the continued evolution. The email inquiry I received raises questions about the timeliness of memes-- and their potential to serve rhetorical purpose more than once.  

As with other posts that collect memes, I provide this disclaimer: these images are provided here without attribution (except where images include a stamp alleging citation), and my reposting does not indicate my support of any given political stance or position. These memes were collected from various Facebook groups, including "Bernie Sanders' Dank Meme Stash." I do not agree with all the memes presented here; rather, they are provided for historical value and posterity.