Oh Myyy! (10 page)

Note the subtlety of the performance here: the epic struggle, the sense of doom, and the bitter knowledge that nothing he can do will alter his fate as he plunges to an epic battle-to-the-death with a
Balrog. Or in his case, the linoleum.

I’ve done some thinking on the matter, and here are a few key points about cats that might help explain their Internet dominance.

Cats fail, epically
. By that I mean that cats “go for it” with gusto, then fall flat on their asses, just like the gal in the YouTube sensation “Scarlet Takes A Tumble” (Google this — it’s worth it). There are innumerable clips of cats falling into bathtubs, getting stuck in small places, or leaping at ceiling fans and getting their claws caught to be spun about like a tether ball. It’s like a constant loop from
Wipe Out
.

Cats are weird
. They chase around little red laser lights. They make funny sounds at bugs while their little jaws quiver. And they like to sit in cardboard boxes. If you own a cat, you know what I mean. Put out a cardboard box, and your cat will sit in it.

Cats are fussy
. They preen and clean incessantly like the obsessive/compulsive divas they are. They only like their food a certain way. They relieve themselves in boxes, but never while anyone is looking. And they don’t like their routine or environs disturbed. Anyone who has ever tried to drive with a cat in the car knows this.

Cats are snooty.
When you come home, even after a long day at work, there’s a good chance your cat will look up at you, then turn away like you’re the help. And like you’ve arrived for work late.

Cats are unpredictable
. It is a fine line between the cute, inquisitive and innocent creature resting on our lap and the hissing, spitting and deranged banshee it might become at any moment. This is why we’re trying always to win their love.

There is, of course, a large segment of the population that doesn’t share my appreciation for cats. These individuals are, simply put, not “cat people.” To them, the
felis catus
is inherently wicked or, at a minimum, demon-possessed. So while some will look at a sweet, serene face, with two placid, profoundly far-away eyes, and see the angelic spirit that the ancient Phoenicians revered, others see nothing but evil incarnate.

Then there’s the particularly curious question of cat grammar. On the Internet, cats are often depicted using “cute” English, with sentences like “I haz a box to pooz in” or “You hates Mondayz, toos?” To the suspicious, this supposedly adorable speech pattern simply furthers the cat’s master plan, in which its owner is lulled into a false sense of quietude, as the cat patiently awaits the day when a decided lack of vigilance permits utter mayhem to ensue, no doubt later blamed upon an unsuspecting dog or small child.

For my part, I’ve always imagined that cats actually talk much more like Stewie or Mr. Burns, pairing a certain diabolical undertone with an overly enlarged sense of power and purpose. When a cat looks up at me, that practiced dismissal so palpable, I often hear one of those voices saying, “Another cat post, George? Really?”

Don’t You Have A Bridge To Go Live Under?

When I first ventured out into the Twitterverse, I had no idea that it was filled with so many monsters. In Internet lingo, these are called “trolls.” Their whole purpose in life is to ruin your good time, or as one friend puts it, to “pee in your Cheerios.”

A troll is an online stalker, of sorts, who ignites passions by posting offensive, inflammatory or, perhaps most annoyingly, off-topic comments to a status update, image, video or story. Trolls are anonymous lurkers on the fringes of the Web, socially maladjusted creatures who, as they say, “have no life.” They crave attention; the bigger the audience, or the more famous the target, the greater the trolls’ delight. Frequently they will perch at their terminals, hurling
ad hominem
attacks and expletives in ALL CAPS, hoping to bait others into responding.

More seasoned commentators on sites like YouTube will gently remind other community members simply “not to feed the trolls” — it’s our very outrage and emotion that causes them to grow stronger. But all the reminders in the world are usually for naught as, inevitably, some indignant Netizen rises to challenge the troll to an online duel. The Netizen dutifully cites evidence or studies, articulates with reason and logic, and even deploys common sense and an appeal to decency in an attempt to enlighten or transform the troll into an actual human being. The usual response to such efforts goes something like this: “WHY DON’T YOU GO OFF YOURSELF YOU PERVERT QUEER. YOU MAKE ME SICK!!!”

Pardon the troll-ese. In my earlier days spent online, before self-policing communities armed with “report” buttons were common place, trolls could rail and shriek with near impunity. On YouTube, there were legions of them in the comments left under my first few videos. While such posts could be “flagged” as inappropriate or offensive, that did not stop a troll from posting a new comment moments later. And while a troll could be, with some greater effort, banned from posting beneath a video altogether, it was easy enough for the troll to assume a new identity and return to spread his bile across the screen. I say “his” because, in my experience, trolls are mostly male. Indeed, I venture to guess that some of the most vicious trolls are repressed homosexuals, desperate to beat back their inner demons with hyper-exaggerated, outward manifestations of their professed heterosexuality.

Here is what the Internet has largely determined what a “troll” looks like:

At first, I was quite taken aback, one could even say horrified, by what I saw spewing from certain trolls’ keyboards. I thought of all the young people who might be viewing, say, my “It’s OK to be Takei” video, hoping to take heart in the positive message, only to skim through the comments and see so much hate and vitriol directed to them. And so I did my best to flag and delete anything that seemed like mere troll speech to me. I wanted those abusers buried, and buried for good.

But China’s one-time leader, Deng Xiaoping, perhaps said it best: “When you open the window, flies and mosquitoes come in.” He was talking about corruption in a Capitalist system, but the analogy works here as well. The Internet is a place where ideas compete, and bad ideas in particular get shared. There simply is no effective way to censor or limit much of anything. For starters, it would be a full-time job to monitor each and every comment on each and every video or post on each and every site. The better solution, I found, was to let the “marketplace of ideas” place its own values on the opinions expressed. Sure, it was entirely possible a good Netizen’s words would be wasted on a troll, but they still might resonate with others perusing the same string. If passions were so stirred that someone had to say
something
, perhaps that was not so bad an outcome. Spread effectively, troll shit could indeed fertilize a whole crop of thinkers. Indeed, perhaps that was an unintended benefit — lemonade from the sour lemons as it were.

There was, of course, also the problem of where to draw the line. One fan easily could find an opinion “offensive,” while others would find the very same statement a fundamental tenet of their beliefs. Well-intentioned Christians often found themselves on the defensive on my page if they entered the fray of my comment streams, especially if their church’s teachings against The Gays required them to hate the sin but love the sinner. Other fans would blast them immediately, wondering why they were even on my page at all if they didn’t like gay people. Now, it’s a truism that once religion gets thrown in the mix, it’s nearly impossible to get anyone to agree on anything. And I’m of the firm belief that you can’t change any minds by closing doors; no one can break open the piñata if you ban them from the fiesta. So I decided early on that it would be better to welcome all manner of commentary and opinion across each of my social media platforms, and that I would simply not normally censor or delete as a matter of principle.

There were certain things, however, I have never felt are helpful or valuable to a robust discussion. Those include specific uses of hate speech designed to intimidate or denigrate on the basis of race, ethnicity, religion, gender, or sexual orientation — the “suspect classes” identified by our jurisprudence, based on historical patterns of discrimination or immutable characteristics. When such hate speech is directed at other fans, I do delete it and ban the author from returning. I figure, it’s my Facebook page, and I make the rules. Everyone deserves to be treated with respect, and those who don’t abide by that basic principle aren’t welcome. Some fans cry “First Amendment” foul, but this misses the point. Facebook is not run by the government, so there aren’t laws against restricting speech, particularly on one’s own page. Besides, Facebook itself has a policy against such speech.

But when hate speech is directed to
me
on my own page, I more often than not leave it as is. Such speech doesn’t have any power over me. I’ve simply been around too long, and been through too much, to let a few words from an anonymous coward get to me. But I do find that such hate speech serves as a terrific rallying cry for my defenders. I’ll tell you, nothing feels better than to see legions of fans call out a jerk on my behalf.

Apart from the most hateful trollspeak, there is a lesser and more common form of “trolling” where one merely seeks to get a “rise” out of others. I admit, I have designed some of my own posts to have this very effect. I know, for example, that any time I post anything that pits men against women, particularly one that plays upon a stereotype, it will surely create a maelstrom.