An encyclopedia of once-common things passing us by.

(You can buy the lovely book version too.)

 

 

Facebook has a “remove this ad” option. I clicked it and was shown this message. Not only do I have to look at the ad, but I am forced to interact with it by closing it. I could just ignore it, but if I’ve already seen it. Foiled! This one was a particularly hard one not to ignore. It was a poll by Macy’s asking the question, “Which parade balloon should come back? Kermit, Underdog or Felix the Cat.”  2,875 people had already voted. I didn’t answer it, but I’m not going to lie and say that I didn’t consider the question.  I also considered how the Internet is invested in taking my attention away from whatever I was doing. Of course, I don’t remember what I was doing. That’s the point. I was reading an article or writing an email or whatever. What’s more, I’m sure that I was supposed to be doing something else when I was doing those things. The handful of seconds I took from my distraction’s distractions to close the thing is, in Macy’s mind, another penny in the bank. Not only am I forced into this relationship, but I’m also supposed to express my feelings about it? Ads have become like overly touchy friends. I didn’t come to the computer this afternoon to take part in a freaking focus group. I just came for the porn. And the worst part of it is that I think this post is, in the end, free advertising for Macy’s.

Facebook has a “remove this ad” option. I clicked it and was shown this message.

Not only do I have to look at the ad, but I am forced to interact with it by closing it. I could just ignore it, but if I’ve already seen it. Foiled!

This one was a particularly hard one not to ignore. It was a poll by Macy’s asking the question,

“Which parade balloon should come back? Kermit, Underdog or Felix the Cat.”  2,875 people had already voted.

I didn’t answer it, but I’m not going to lie and say that I didn’t consider the question. 

I also considered how the Internet is invested in taking my attention away from whatever I was doing. Of course, I don’t remember what I was doing. That’s the point. I was reading an article or writing an email or whatever. What’s more, I’m sure that I was supposed to be doing something else when I was doing those things. The handful of seconds I took from my distraction’s distractions to close the thing is, in Macy’s mind, another penny in the bank. Not only am I forced into this relationship, but I’m also supposed to express my feelings about it? Ads have become like overly touchy friends.

I didn’t come to the computer this afternoon to take part in a freaking focus group. I just came for the porn.

And the worst part of it is that I think this post is, in the end, free advertising for Macy’s.

Notes

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