Mein Blog: Hitler on the Internet

Comedian Jerry Seinfeld has a joke about fear in America. To his knowledge, the fear of public speaking in America ranks higher than the fear of death, meaning, as he proclaimed, people would rather be dead, rotting in a casket, than giving the eulogy.

There is something about face-to-face connection that haunts the average person. There is nothing like looking into someone's eyes and watching their pupils fill with boredom. Multiply that by a given amount and the thrill is almost pants-wetting. We have a need for acceptance.

You can't please everyone, sure, but if you're lucky enough to have a platform you better have something to say.

NOTICE: The World Wide Web has no such rules, though. The fear of judging eyes melts away as we spread our smalltalk on the Internet. Disdain for our jobs or updates on our exhaustion level float freely through cyberspace, building a flimsy digital connection between us. We all feel we have the right to a platform now, whether or not what we say is vapid or mindless. But those who actively use the Web to engage an audience with more than common complaints slowly start to confront the fear of judging eyes and, gasp, public speaking in reality.

SIDE STEP: It made me wonder how Adolf Hitler would handle the Internet. A man unafraid of criticism or public speaking, for sure, the Internet would be just another stage for Hitler to spew his hate. But would it be effective?

Hitler's ideology thrived in part due to the secrecy of The Third Reich. The Internet wasn't available to spread photos and video of concentration camps and warn the world of injustice. But you have to wonder how the Internet has shown us world crises all over and we still seem to roll over.

Of course, in our politically correct and progressive society, hate is not tolerated through Internet popularity. While viral videos may flirt with the idea of racism or hate, as with the most recent scuffle on an AC Transit Bus with Epic Beard Man, Hitler's hate speech would send red flags immediately. Screaming and sweating on YouTube, Hitler's talk of a Final Solution would be a toss-up. While I can easily see a video as offensive and disturbing as that striking fear into American hearts, I could also easily see my buddies sharing a laugh over a goofy-mustachioed foreigner in a tight uniform, blasting such irrational hate. He would either be considered armed and dangerous or be laughed off the Internet.

What it really boils down to is passion. Hitler would use the Internet, but he would do so strategically. We wouldn't hear of his struggles with organizing Nazis or the cost of milk in Germany. I don't even think his random, hate-filled thoughts could fit in a single tweet. What I do believe, though, is Hitler was talented. You can't argue that he knew how to manipulate and motivate a crowd. He had an audience close to the size of a powerful nation without the use of the Internet. And he stared down the fear-mongering eyes of boredom and lashed out with passion.

In my own twisted and garbled way, I'm trying to say that what the Internet's stage needs is passion. Where Hitler succeeded, we have the tools to progress way past hate. Belly laughter over a song about delicious rainfall or a fat kid embarrassing himself imitating a classic movie series may serve as instant gratification but when it comes to updating the world, why share the same bullshit?

We need to save the smalltalk for the times when it is necessary: as a diving board for getting to know someone. When we jump right into our late-night thoughts or deepest fears we tend to turn people off with informality. I think we need to drive toward our fear of public speaking, battle it, and realize that we all can be boring sooner or later but we don't always have to be.

**props to Jess on the title joke

ChatRoulette: A Cultural Evolution

I honestly believe that you can get an accurate snapshot of America if you just watch a couple of hours of America's Funniest Home Videos. You are quite literally welcomed into slivers of American homes. Tom Bergeron is your Robin Leach into the Lifestyles of the Middle Class. It's not to say we're all clumsy or silly or stupid, but we all take pride in sharing the moments that made us laugh. Laughter is an acquired reaction and when you get someone laughing you surely have their attention. We all just want to be seen on our own terms.

Enter ChatRoulette, an anonymous one-on-one video chat session online. Like speed-dating on crack and with lower expectations, you're poised to share whatever it takes to keep someone on the other side.

Ironically, the dichotomy of the ChatRoulette audience is pure good and evil. The reflection of the young, Internet-savvy America is either curious groups of kids or dicks. Physical dicks. Either people are looking for something interesting to watch or hear, or providing the most basic of entertainment: masturbation.

NOTICE: The beautiful, sad truth is the power ChatRoulette gives to each user. You have the world at your fingertips, firmly ready on the F9 key that connects and disconnects your "Stranger" on the other line.

We are all eager for connection of the right kind. Our generation has grown up drowning in media, meeting so many characters that they feel the same. And when we don't feel that we know anybody on a passive screen, we turn to the active one.

SIDE STEP: Whether or not we are losing our attention span I can't say for sure. Like some kind of cultural evolution we are expected to be of interest to the world. If someone is patient enough to be interested in your face and hear your words, you're expected to say something of interest, too. It becomes an exercise in how alluring you honestly can be.

For my group of friends, most conversations quickly became an impromptu session of show-and-tell. We resorted to how children express themselves. Through our possessions, we opened up our homes rather our minds because too often we don't have original, compelling thoughts. Myself included.

But now it makes me think that building myself into a more interesting person is worthwhile. To have something ready to ponder, discuss, analyze or rant about seems like tons of more fun than small talk. Likewise, I've always been content with the causal jeans and tee look but now I dare to wonder if changing my style is worth it to make the best of my interactions.

I think the world wants us all to be more interesting. And damnit, I'm gonna try.

The World is a Zoo

MindPron began with an analysis of porno so it only seems right to jump headfirst into my second entry discussing bestiality. Last night, I had the awkward pleasure of watching Zoo, the arthouse documentary with a shocking core. Zoo was the stylized exploration of bestiality following the death of a local man, known as Mr. Hands, after being fucked by a horse.

There is no way to be quiet about it. A man...died...having sex...with a horse! The film ratchets up the shock value even more by presenting the story in a beautifully, meandering glow, half re-enactment, half documentary. While questions of animal consent and innocence float around in light of Mr. Hands' death, I couldn't stop but think about the Internet.

Rob opened the floodgates when he jokingly suggested that the true villain of the piece was the Internet. We all know the depths of the World Wide Web act as a harbor for all sorts of sexual perversions. We may have even seen those perversions. I know I've seen Mr. Hands' handiwork.

The Internet represents and gives a voice to all as the last democratic medium. And the men who label themselves as being 'zoo' united through this technological Underground.

These men are doing exactly as I hoped to in this blog and the term starts to irk me. No longer a place to observe animals in quiet fascination, 'zoo' becomes the recognition and acting out of bestiality urges, confronting and realizing their fantasy.

But, again, they are not alone.

But what if you were?

What if in the age and enormity of the Internet, you were alone with your fantasy? Men aching to have sex with a horse could find others, but you couldn't even lay your eyes on your wildest fantasy. Existence would immediately seem bleak. A constant, critical search to justify your interest with another would most likely consume the best of us.

Because, if we're not alone, then we can't be 'weird'. And if we're not 'weird' then we're free to do as we dream.

In the end, I can't but wonder what Mr. Hands was thinking as his colon spewed blood inside his body. Did he feel ashamed or embarrassed? Most likely not. It was his dream to be intimate with a horse. It could be that he didn't even regret it. But when it comes down to it, his dream wasn't to share. It was for him alone and the other 'zoo' men didn't matter in the moment.

I would like to say I can't imagine what Mr. Hands thought at that moment, or even in his lifetime, but I'm glad to try. Maybe some dreams aren't meant to come true after all.