Sometimes I get a giggle out of how we as a culture decide whether we like or don’t like strangers, for the silliest of reasons. For example, we like or don’t like celebrities or public personalities, based on what we “hear about them” in the media or on the internet.
We all know that everything on the internet and in the headlines of supermarket tabloids is all factual, true and accurate. Some celebrities and influencers count every “like” they get, accumulating “likes” along with cash, indirectly from those who bother to “like” them.
People appreciate being liked. Few people from back in the day would forget the highly publicized award acceptance speech from actress, Sally Field, “you like me, you really like me.” Being liked is never a glass half full. Folks can’t get enough of being liked.
It’s the rare bird who doesn’t give a hoot “if you like me or not.” But I think, that’s a defense mechanism based on being disliked by somebody who at some point in their life, meant something more to them than “the average bear.”
On social media there is an informal but powerful opinion poll, called a “like”-button. One-click of your finger and you have empowered and approved someone’s opinion shared. This approval means the world to some, is an accumulation of kudos to others, a popularity contest to yet others, and closer to meaningless to a few, I suppose.
The concept of “likes and dislikes” seems “high-school” to me, with the proverbial “walks on the beach,” heading up everybody’s likes, and snakes probably hitting the top ten of dislikes. What is it about “liking” and high school that implores me to associate the two?
Perhaps most high-schoolers are insecure as to who they are and whether they’re acceptable, thus liked, for who they are at the moment. High-schoolers test personas so as to eventually come to a conclusion about who they are. How much they’re liked is the test-grade. This persona, or that which gets a lot of likes, is a confirmation that this might be me. If another persona gets no likes, then I guess I don’t want to be that person.
I believe there is a fine line between being liked and being authentic. I suppose that if you are liked for who you genuinely are, then being liked is a reasonable gauge of acceptance. But if you are deemed “liked” if it’s akin to the participation trophy, and not based on the merit of your skills, abilities and accomplishments, I’m not so sure that the “like-button” is all that meaningful.
I wonder if there should be a “lukewarm” button on social media posts. Personally, I would probably be more honest if I could express “slightly warm” feelings toward a Facebook or Instagram post rather than “like” it. Face it, many of us click “like” in order to be supportive rather than truly liking the subject matter.
Then again, English doesn’t always have the best adjectives, to describe feelings, as well as other languages. I might like a social-media button that says chambré, which is French for bringing wine to room temperature. I feel “room temperature in-a-good-way” about some of those formerly “liked” photos, comments, jokes, memes or gifs; but I didn’t have the option.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that, about most things that could be described as popular culture: celebrity, politics, comedy, influencers, and everything TikTok, I feel little enthusiasm, indifferent, unenthusiastic, lackadaisical, dispassionate, noncommittal, unenthused, even Laodicean.
I am neither hot nor cold, I am lukewarm about popular culture. I like serious stuff. This reminds me of my mom who once explained that she was not what, today, we would call a lol, or “laugh-out-loud,” -kind-of-person. She is the source of my sarcasm and dry sense of humor.
I guess, often when I comment lol to someone’s online material, I really mean to say, “I’m lukewarm, in a slightly moved, half-smirk, giggle, kind-of-way.” I don’t like it nor dislike it.