Oh Myyy! (4 page)

I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Trump personally and even going on his show,
Celebrity Apprentice
, on which I only lasted three weeks. I’m told that my “exit” from the show was gracious, which I’m relieved to hear since it was an extremely frustrating loss that did not seem deserved at the time. While Mr. Trump and I disagree on many matters, including the question of marriage equality, I found him quite willing to listen to the other side. I’ve even invited him to sit down with me over lunch at Jean-Georges in Trump International Hotel Central Park to hear me out on the question, an invitation he’s accepted in principle, but we haven’t yet had the opportunity to make happen. So I wouldn’t describe him as a “douchebag” today, even after his awkward “October '12 Surprise” that fizzled like the career of an
American Idol
winner. This goes to show even my mind can be changed after seven and a half decades of living.

Some of the better times I spent on Twitter involved following the occasional Twitter feud (or in the case of the dispute between fans of
Star Wars
and
Star Trek
, the occasional Twitter peace — more on that later). I even had my own friendly feud with the comedian Gilbert Gottfried, whose name I always seem to misspell. Gottfreed roasted me at the Friars Club and I’ve worked with him on films before, including voicing Disney animations together, so let me first assure readers that we are on friendly terms. That didn’t stop Gottfreid from launching into me one fateful week.

It was shortly after the Japanese Tsunami in 2011, and Gotfreid had just been summarily fired from his job voicing the Aflac duck on account of his tasteless humor aimed at victims of the disaster. As one of the international spokesmen for disaster relief, and as a member of the Twitterati with a growing and active following, I was a natural target for Gilbert’s ribbing, particularly after I tagged him in a post but once again misspelled his name. He began posting things from his highly active Twitter account hoping to get my attention. Here is a quick sample of some of his tweets:

“@GeorgeTakei Hey #Queer, learn to spell my name.”

When I demurred, he upped the ante:

“Tracy Morgan is in trouble with the gays, me with the Japanese. Whatever you do, don’t make any jokes about @GeorgeTakei!!!”

“@GeorgeTakei Hey George, I heard when Star Trek was on, the pay was really low, but you received a lot in the back-end.”

I tried to deflect the attack, tweeting that unfortunately I don’t speak Chihuahua. But that only seemed to inflame him further:

“Hey @Georgetakei, That comment was hard to swallow. But I guess you’ve never had that problem.”

My followers started to point out on chat boards that Godtfreid was gunning for me, and try as I might to ignore the barrage, his Twitter guns kept firing. Then came this tweet:

Le sigh. I realized that “shields” were not enough to dissuade Godfreet; I needed to bring out my own Twitter torpedoes:

For this exchange, and others, Buzzfeed unexpectedly awarded me with the best Twitter stream of 2011, the above exchange being their #1 pick. Oh my, my, my. But for me, the real future of social media clearly wasn’t in a top-down, mostly text-based world of truncated messaging. Twitter was great for receiving instant news, posting quick updates and links, and growing a basic following. But answering fans became far too demanding, and going through my “interactions” and “mentions” on a daily basis was proving too much of a time sink.

And so, perhaps to the dismay of my avid Twitter followers, I backed off. By October of 2011, I had begun to focus on my Facebook page and was gaining much broader traction, and the ability to share images and talk about them collectively as a community was simply too enticing. My heavy Twitter days were more or less done — you might even say my Twitter campaign was in full retweet.

Waka Waka Into Mordor

ONE DOES NOT SIMPLY WAKA WAKA INTO MORDOR (FOZZY BEAR)

During my first few months of Facebooking, I discovered that my page had fostered a collective nostalgia for specific cultural icons. These started, unsurprisingly, within the realm of science fiction and fantasy. They commonly included a pointy-eared Vulcan from a certain groundbreaking 1960s television show.

Just as often, though, I found myself sharing images of a diminutive, ancient, green and disarmingly wise Jedi Master who speaks in flip-side down English. Or, if feeling more sinister, I’d post pictures of his black-cloaked, dark-sided, heavy-breathing nemesis. As an aside, I initially received from
Star Trek
fans considerable “push-back,” or at least many raised Spock brows, when I began sharing images of Yoda and Darth Vader. To the purists, this bordered on sacrilege.. But as I like to remind fans, I was the only actor to work within both franchises, having also voiced the part of Lok Durd from the animated show
Star Wars: The Clone Wars
.

It was the virality of these early posts, shared by thousands of fans without any prodding from me, that got me thinking. Why
do
we love Spock, Yoda and Darth Vader so much? And what is it about characters like these that causes fans to click “like” and “share” so readily?

One thing was clear: Cultural icons help people define who they are today because they shaped who they were as children. We all “like” Yoda because we all loved
The Empire Strikes Back
, probably watched it many times, and can recite our favorite lines. Indeed, we all can quote Yoda, and we all have tried out our best impression of him.

When someone posts a meme of Yoda, many immediately share it, not just because they think it is funny (though it usually is — it’s hard to go wrong with the Master), but because it says something about the sharer. It’s shorthand for saying, “This little guy made a huge impact on me, not sure what it is, but for certain a huge impact. Did it make one on you, too? I’m clicking ‘share’ to affirm something you may not know about me. I ‘like’ Yoda.”

And isn’t that what sharing on Facebook is all about? It’s not simply that the sharer wants you to snortle or “LOL” as it were. That’s part of it, but not the core.
At
its core is a statement about one’s belief system, one that includes the wisdom of Yoda.

Other eminently shareable icons included beloved Tolkien characters, particularly Gandalf (as played by the inimitable Sir Ian McKellan). Gandalf, like Yoda, is somehow always above reproach and unfailingly epic.

© Leticia Wilson, leremy - Fotolia.com. Used with Permission

Like Yoda, Gandalf has his darker counterpart. Gollum is a fan favorite because he is a fallen figure who could reform with the right guidance. It doesn’t hurt that his every meme is invariably read in his distinctive, blood-curdling rasp. I recall with fondness one popular meme:

Then there’s also Batman, who seems to have survived both Adam West and Christian Bale, but whose questionable relationship to the Boy Wonder left plenty of room for hilarious homoerotic undertones. But seriously, there is something about the brooding, misunderstood and “chaotic-good” nature of this superhero that touches all of our hearts.

Photo Credit © Keith G. Richie. Used with Permission

Although my “most-shared” posts began with sci-fi and fantasy, I found that fans universally longed for other things. For some reason, the Muppets — the classic, ragtag set of misbegotten optimists — also made their way commonly into pics shared on my wall. Perhaps it’s the simple wonder of a non-traditional, cross-species marriage between a frog and a pig that never fails to provoke a smile. I was particularly delighted to see Jim Henson’s estate pull its advertisements with “Chick-fil-A” after that company’s CEO and management came out strongly against same-sex marriage. Often when I’m stuck wondering about what I should post, I come back to these furred, fluffed, and fisted fellows. The latter adjective reminds me of a cartoon, which I can’t reprint here, depicting Kermit about to receive his X-ray results. The X-ray shows a skeletal arm deep inside
Kermit’s innards, the doctor saying, “What I’m about to tell you may come as a shock…”