Okayplayer Report

The Okayplayer messageboard is supplemental to the Okayplayer blog. Co-founded by Ahmir "Questlove" Johnson — the drummer and founding member of The Roots, a hip-hop band from Philadelphia — the blog and forum first served as the online presence for the artist collective known as “Okayplayer,” in which The Roots were involved. Their Okayplayer website went live in 1999, offering a space for fans and other artists to share in music discussion and creation. Today, the blog features reviews of hip-hop albums, songs, videos and concerts on its home page, as well as prominent links to offshoot sites, including okayafrica, largeup, and revivalist — sites that focus on African, Caribbean, and jazz culture and music, respectively. More popular is the forum, which is home to some of the most consistently active, opinionated, and well-informed hip-hop discussions on the internet. There are no offshoot sites, mobile apps, organized meetups, or alternative meeting spaces for members of the Okayplayer forum: this multifaceted forum is the sustaining lifeforce to the vibrant community of Okayplayer users, where all users can come together and share in discussion, dissection, creation, correction, uploading, downloading, and sounding off.

In my exploration of the site, I focused on a particular subsection of the entire forum called “The Lesson” – a subforum dedicated to discussion of hip hop primarily, but all music in general. Discussion on this forum is generally asynchronous, as several different topics may garner attention at the same time. The fluctuation of a thread’s relevance also drives this asynchronicity; an inactive thread may fall to a later page, only to shoot to the top of page 1 upon the post of a random user who wishes to add to the discussion after it has subsided. There are times when the majority of the community converges onto a particular thread, causing an almost synchronous sort of discourse. Rare but observable, this occurred on 2 separate occasions during my experience with the site: first when members of the underground teenage rap group Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All made their first nationally televised appearance on Late Night With Jimmy Fallon, and second when heralded rock band Radiohead suddenly released their newest album online, leading to a swift discussion of its, strengths, weaknesses, and its ranking among the band’s discography.

What sets this board’s organization apart form other forums is its presentation of posts. Opening a thread reveals first the full text of the original post, followed by a topic outline that simply lists the titles to the reply posts, followed by a proper presentation of every single post made in a relatively difficult-to-follow fashion. Given the difficulty of navigating the sea of posts beyond the topic outline, the most natural way of reading a thread is by simply viewing the topic outline with post titles, then clicking on the post titles themselves to be redirected to the actual posts. Conversations within topics are threaded as well, in that you can endlessly reply to a post that is a reply to another post. This can sometimes create an interesting form of dialogue where people simply communicate in the very limited space of the title of their post, or, as I learned to do very quickly, treat the title as a sort of cliffhanger, with the most important content of the post coming after the introduction provided by the title — for example, in the Radiohead album discussion thread, one might title their post “the best track was definitely...” and actually name the track in question (“Give Up the Ghost”) in the body of the post, only visible after clicking. The two-partedness of individual posts on Okayplayer lay the foundation for an intriguing textual expectation on the site. Fragmentary posts confined simply to a post title are as welcome as lengthy posts; no users are ever discredited for their post brevity or length amidst the discussion. As a result of this vast tolerance for content on the site, literacy on a linguistic level is very open — most people could engage in discourse quickly on the site without needing to study the language habits of the site.

There is still an expectation that users are familiar with some hip hop-based terminology, even if the terminology is not entirely essential to the overall discourse. A "stan" is an overzealous-to-a-fault fan of an artist, coined after Eminem's famous song "Stan," which chronicles the downfall of an unstable, psychotic fictional Eminem fan; the word "ether" is used often as a verb to convey defeat at the hands of another — a usage that is derived from rapper Nas' song "Ether," a cult favorite diss song that insulted Nas's opposition, Jay-Z, in an extremely public rap feud; many arguments are cut short by one party simply saying "U MAD" in response to angry retaliatory remarks from the opposing party, which is an expression originating from a famous encounter between rapper Cam'Ron and Fox News personality Bill O'Reilly on O'Reilly's show that found O'Reilly flustered during a discussion about vulgarity in hip hop, resulting in Cam'Ron simply pointing at him, laughing, and saying "you mad, you mad!" Overall, despite the purely textual nature of the forum, language barriers are not very high and can easily be crossed with keen observation and contextual awareness.


It ultimately is the people that drive the success of the board. Music as a basis for discussion presents a dynamic, evolving subject that offers a point of engagement for everyone; it is no wonder that the users on the site represent wildly different backgrounds and identities. While the site is open to anyone that has an Internet connection and an email address and is populated primarily by nameless and faceless masses of users interested in engaging in discussion, Okayplayer boasts a fair amount of relative celebrities, recognized both by users of the site and oftentimes average people offline. Noteworthy rappers Lupe Fiasco (FNF UP UP AND AWAY) and Phonte (taygravy), as well as respected producers 9th Wonder (9thWonderMusic) and Nicolay (nicolay), can be spotted on the messageboard sporadically, interacting with users in as common a fashion as anyone else. Their careers as successful artists were jumpstarted by their participation on the board; it has been noted that some of their earliest work made it's rounds online after being posted on this forum. As their careers — take Lupe Fiasco, for example — have ballooned into something larger than the site, their activity has significantly declined, but their ability to polarize the forum is stronger than ever. Upon catching Lupe Fiasco's posts, newer members are notably starstruck: interaction with a legitimate hip hop icon fuels overt positivity towards one of the more famous members of the community. However, an interesting dynamic comes into play when examining interactions between more established members and these celebrity posters. Lupe Fiasco's random appearances on the board are received with deliberate apathy by most older members and even vitriol by a select group of high-profile members, as if to suggest that some members are unimpressed with his rise to stardom and dismiss his work. Engaging a celebrity in any other setting – especially offline – would most often produce a far different result than is observed by the prominent minority of established users on the site.

There is one exception to the hip hop celebrity rule that results in interactions other than wide-eyed fandom or general negativity; Questlove, drummer from The Roots and co-founder of the site, is still active on the messageboard under the username "15." Unlike other big name members, his activity, while notably diminished as a result of his extremely busy offline schedule, is still rather regular. As a result, he is treated as simply another member of the board. Respected more readily than nearly any other user as a result of his status and likability over the years, Questlove has often kept his good reputation consistent mostly by delivering information to discussions that no other member could have. Countless threads on the forum call for his expertise since he has witnessed a large amount of hip hop hisory firsthand, and he contributes with his knowledge with surprising regularrity. But the relationship is not one-sided: The Roots are the live band that plays during Jimmy Fallon's late night program, and Questlove crowdsources the choice of the guests' introduction to the board. Questlove creates a thread for a particular month show tapings and each day will update it with a post featuring just two names, and countless users will chime in with their own suggestions as to what songs the band should play for their introduction, as seen in the accompanying picture.

Not dominant in number but in visibility, the reception celebrity posters are given on the site is largely a product of the celebrity's consistency on the board; when they leave the board behind, the board's dominant long-time members leave them behind. But the fact that they are even members of the site is a testament to Okayplayer's influence, importance, and notoriety in the hip hop community.

While some members of the forum have gained notoriety for their work outside the forum, the dominant members of the site are those that have a made a name for themselves within the fabric of the Okayplayer community. The dominant members of the site are by no means monolithic, however. There is no blanket characterization that can address the typical Okayplayer user, but they all have definite tendencies and unique identities. Meet user imcvspl: a member of the site for over 6-years and boasting almost 30,000 posts, he is easily one of the most visible members on the site. Ever-present in discussion, his prominence and frequent positive contribution has earned him a prioritized relationship with the board. His posts are responded to more frequently and his threads are nearly always successful – a music producer and rapper himself, even threads of his own music are popular. While no one truly knows his offline identity, he is clearly a black male, possibly in his late 20s or early to mid 30s since the basis for much of his hip hop knowledge is first hand experience. However, 20 to 30 year-old black males with a strong foundation in hip hop history and respect from the community are common at the top of the hierarchy: what sets imcvspl apart is that he can be found in almost any discussion of any music. More than just a rap enthusiast, imcvspl is consistently engaged in discussions about new music, old music, indie music, classic soul music, electronic music, pop music – just about anything that anyone posts about.

This fact about imcvspl is one of the interesting anomalies of the site; prominent users usually have niche topics of discussion that they will dominate. In this respect, the site functions almost like a knowledge community. When the discussion turns to 60s and 70s R&B, user tREBLEFREE is the go-to user, but he is rarely found in any other posts. When the discussion turns to the original context and climate in which hip hop classics were released, user Dj Joey Joe offers his historical perspective, but is rarely found in any other types of threads. When the discussion turns to the current Internet-based landscape of hip hop and how music is distributed now, regular user, rapper, and constant self-promoter Duval Spit offers his personal insight, but appears in few other discussions. The common denominator for all users is an interest in hip hop, but a specialization in a topic or genre offers one way for a user to become noticed. For the common user, however, this extensive array of topics and expertise lays the foundation for a complex relationship with literacy on Okayplayer.

In our increasingly digital culture, it is easy to assume that hierarchies are gradually dissolving and literacy requirements are being shed because of the diversity found throughout the Internet. However, with regards to Okayplayer, this could not be further from the truth: hierarchies exist and literacy plays a massive role in shaping the forum — literacy in this case referring to knowledge in topics as opposed to linguistic skill. This is because while we are able to use countless identity markers to consider social position offline, online identities, especially on Okayplayer, are products of one's posts. And when a person's words are the sole characteristics that generate an identity, their competency in the topic being discussed essentially defines who they are and what position their opinion holds. This makes sense to some extent, especially on Okayplayer: the most knowledgeable, experienced members have the most respected positions on the board’s hierarchy. Things get problematic when those at the top recognize those that aren't as familiar with hip hop — who have not been listening to the genre for multiple decades, or have not completely digested the entirety of every "important" rapper's catalog — and instantly discredit them. This expected fluency in all things hip hop is a steep literacy requirement that is sometimes impossible to meet, especially for the younger generation of Okayplayer users.


There is a twist, however. Extensive literacy in hip hop history is expected of the average user hoping to engage in discussion. Logically, the boundaries between the older generation and the younger generation of users should melt away when discussing today’s newest hip hop trends since everyone is experiencing everything in real-time. But that is simply not how it works: the older generation is deliberately ignorant of much of today’s music and generative discussion about new acts is rarely had as a result, despite clear proficiency from many of the lesser known, younger, more currently in-tune members. And it is out of this selective literacy that one can finally identify the board’s hierarchy and social structure.


Okayplayer boasts thousands upon thousands of members, with new members signing up every day for over a decade. With the diversification of hip hop music over the course of the past decade, the typical rap listener is no longer a singularly-defined individual. Race, class, and gender – all markers that used to very strictly define who the typical rap fan was – are almost inconsequential to the actual consumption of rap music today. As a result, the overall membership of Okayplayer is becoming increasingly diverse. But as soon as a member logs into the forum, perceptions are twisted and expectations of who can be found on the site change dramatically. The assumed identity of each person is typically a black male in their 20s, until otherwise noted. This is understandable given the history and target audience of the whole site, and the majority of the users on the site fit the description. But all too often, users are diminished as a result of not fitting the stereotypical Okayplayer user markers. A classic example of identity perception involves the increasing white user population on the site. Earlier in the site’s development, when white users were the extreme minority, the revelation of a user being white often lead to their immediate discrediting during a discussion. While the board has grown more tolerant over time, the stigma of being anything but black on the site remains sarcastically throughout Okayplayer. The most common incarnation of this racial dismissal is seen in threads that have polls; users will create polls to generate a consensus in an album, rapper, verse, or even era comparison. While the choices of these polls are always well thought out and legitimate, there is always an inclusion of the choice “I’m white” in the poll. Playful, this harkens back to the notion that being anything but black automatically discredited your ability to comment on matters of hip hop, as the genre was so intrinsically linked to the black experience in America.

But race is not an issue only dealt with between members; it is an issue that is considered in music discussion as well. There is a relentless urge to revisit history and creadit black artists for their contributions to music, especially at the expense of white artists. A favorite topic of discussion on the site is the comparison of The Beatles, literally the largest and most successful band ever, to anything culturally black — such discussions often result in the majority of users agreeing on The Beatles as overrated in quality and influence but admittedly important, while black artists, such as the many Motown hitmakers, are given a revisionist boost.

This race-based dissection of music applies to more recent material as well; discussions about Eminem and iconic underground rapper El-P can rarely occur without their being white becoming a factor in the argument. In the heavily competitive world of hip hop, comparisons are made all the time, but the frequency with which prominent white rappers come up in comparison, and the extent to which many users go to discredit their importance or build up the importance of another black artist reflects an important cultural mindset that is set on revision and rejection of the perceived norm. Adding to the complexity of race and the importance of its accompanying culture, even black artists are scrutinized for being "whitewashed;" artists like Beyoncé or Drake or Kanye West are criticized — sometimes with convincing support and other times for no apparent reason — for pandering to a white audience for their own benefit. No amount of time spent on the site could allow for a full exploration or understanding of the racial dynamic on the site, but every minute spent browsing the forum turns up even more engrossing, raw racial commentary.


Gender, on the other hand, is a topic rarely approached on the site. There is an extremely small minority of identified females on the site, although there is a possibility that there are more that simply have not identified themselves. In the male-dominated world of rap music, however, the dominance of males on Okayplayer is not surprising. But it is not an oppressive dominance, and females are not actively discouraged from joining: simply put, females sign up for the site far less frequently than males do.


It is absolutely an interesting place. Okayplayer lies at the crossroads of hip hop purism and elitism and the democratization of hip hop by way of the Internet. Anyone can be a rapper today, and success in the rap world is only a mention on a rap blog away – but log into Okayplayer, and you are warped into a space where it is still 1998, the golden age of hip hop is still a fresh memory rather than a distant notion, and everyone knows everything about hip hop. Just don't say you're white.

What Osama's Death Means On the Ground

Osama Bin Laden is dead. The news is inescapable, the symbolism is mountainous, the rejoicing is incredibly exuberant, the reality is surreal, the timing is phenomenal, the implications are endless. But more than anything ever before, this historic, timeless event has revealed an aspect of our culture that calls for as much reflection as the past 10 years of the War on Terror and the upheaval in the Middle East.

Watching the 24 hour cable news media will reveal inordinate amounts of detailed information from experts and laymen about the future of US foreign policy in the Middle East, the dissolving relationship between the US and Pakistan, the specifics of the dangerous and wildly successful Navy Seal operation in Abbottabad, the political impact of Bin Laden's death on President Obama's national standing and likelihood of reelection, the importance of this event in the face of sweeping changes throughout governments and social structures in the Middle East, the heightened threat levels for Americans at home and abroad in the face of potential Al-Qaeda retaliation, the inkling of closure brought to those affected by the terrorist attacks spearheaded by Bin Laden, and countless more undeniably important, interesting, and stimulating developing stories. But lost in the media whirlwind is the ground level discourse.

The stratification of discourse has been dissolving in recent years, first as a result of user-generated content gaining credibility and ubiquity in the face of the traditional news media, then as a result of the directness of social networking sites that have resulted in news becoming synchronous discourse on Facebook and Twitter. This fact is proven most effectively by Sohaib Athar, who inadvertently live-tweeted the attack on Bin Laden's Abbottabad compound — his tweets are a part of the fabric of the developing news story that everyone experienced. Back in the US, as thousands gathered in front of the White House and Ohio State University students jumped onto Mirror Lake in celebration of the confirmation of Bin Laden's death, hundreds upon hundreds of photos were posted on Twitter of the congregations; looking through comments of some of these photographs, you will find diligent ABC staff members posting contact information in hopes of using a given photo for a national news story. Social media is a part of the upper level of the discourse following the significant news event.

But while social media has infiltrated the 24 hour news and opinion conglomerates, social media has also sharply defined ground level discourse. Within hours of reports of Bin Laden's death, still images, animations, comics, edited photographs and countless other bits of media bounced around from person to person by way of tweeting, retweeting, Facebook posting, Facebook reposting, liking, commenting, and much more. While media organizations culled together their greatest pundits and speculators following the Obama statement regarding Bin Laden's death in order to offer historical perspective and conjecture, the average technologically-adept American was cracking jokes, celebrating America, and changing their Facebook status. Before social media dominated our culture, the ground level discourse took place in isolated pockets, mostly in face to face discussion. In 2011, the ground level of discourse, below the punditry and speculation on cable news networks, is on Twitter, just a hashtag away.

Scanning the #Osama or #obl Twitter search results is intriguing; the emotional outpour is tremendous and the excitement is staggeringly palpable. But it isn't long until we find out what exactly the impact of this event is on the most basic level of discourse. A shocking glimpse of what the discourse can become is cataloged neatly in the Twitter timeline of user @HEEMS; Himanshu Suri, one half of Brooklyn-based rap group Das Racist, took to Twitter the day following Bin Laden's death and started retweeting some of the irrationally exuberant tweets attached to the #Osama hashtag. Tweaking his search from #Osama to "sand nigger" turned celebratory tweets into vile, ignorant catastrophes of racial sensitivity and reason. He goes on to retweet posts that include the words "dune coon" or "towel head" — the results are startling, and best experienced for oneself.

Below the excessive assessment of the impact Bin Laden's death will have on our nation that is being delivered by many cable news organizations and even political and current event blogs, reality is rearing its ugly head. Nowhere on the news will we find stories of the incomprehensible xenophobia that is accompanying the news of Bin Laden's death. The impact of this historic event on Middle Eastern or Muslim perception and race relations isn't an issue. Most distressing is that the racism that is bubbling up from the American base is not confined to fringe groups with destructive ideologies and distorted messages; the racism is coming from people whose lives have been defined by 9/11 attacks, but have been informed by a society and culture that has so routinely villainized and dehumanized a particular group of individuals. The fact that racism still exists is not groundbreaking by any means, but its prominence is alarming. Racism has been something we only notice subtly in the cloth of society, woven in by achievement trends, advertisements, pop culture and the occasional abrasive, ignorant citizen, rarely emerging overtly in our mainstream culture but always an unfortunate part of our nation. The racism that followed Bin Laden's death was unfiltered, available, and terrifyingly sincere. Rummaging through the insensitivity, it becomes clear that this racism is not being perpetuated by any particular subset of the public, but by a frighteningly diverse array of people with a frightening outlook and a platform to speak their mind.

Our society allows for the perpetuation of this racism. Hearing CNN's John King situate the death of Bin Laden within the Middle Eastern and North African turmoil is important. But so is reading a thousand people celebrate the death of THE TERRIBLE TOWELHEAD. Information aggregation has been converging for years as social media users have entered the business of telling the news, but the conversations that go on at the news media level and the ground level are destructively different. Ten years of Middle Easterners burning the US flag, ten years of AK47-wielding young bearded men, ten years of terrifying reports of hate-peaching madrasas: this is what we see on the news at the ground level, and this is where the racism is developed. What's the point of news and social media convergence if the conversations so clearly divert? Zero mentions of this basic ignorance, insensitivity and racism: this is why, ten years from now, racism will still be an accepted part of the American experience.

S/R 1 Revision

Henry Jenkins' Convergence Culture offers a look into our rapidly shifting social experience at the hands of technology. Jenkins is very distinct about his definition of convergence; dismissed is the concept of the oft-talked about "Black Box," a convergence of our popular gadgets and appliances into one general tool that serves as our television, computer, entertainment systems, communication devices, among countless other things. Instead, Jenkins ushers in a look at the "cultural shift as consumers are encouraged to seek out new information and make connections among dispersed media content" (3). What Jenkins argues is that we are in the midst of a dramatic change in our cultural landscape. In order to emphasize his observations, Jenkins offers several case studies. A foray into the world of Survivor spoiling offers a glimpse into knowledge communities, and the power of collective intelligence that occurs when people – especially in an online environment – "harness their individual expertise toward shared goals and objectives" (26) including discovery and exposition. The other side of this startlingly hyperinvolved set of consumers is the large entertainment and media groups who deliberately set out to create media that encourage active engagement and participation from its consumers. Jenkins focuses extensively on the top-down model of corporate entities engaging consumers and the simultaneous bottom-up grassroots engagement bred by communal interest in order to paint a picture of convergence in our cultural and entertainment sphere. One case study that effectively defines and describes much of what Jenkins means by convergence culture is that of The Matrix and its transmedia-based franchise. Diving into the world that the Wachowski brothers manufactured, Jenkins reveals a vast network of "interconnections between the various Matrix texts" (116) that all work together to deliver a larger narrative than can be consumed in any one medium. This example, as well as the example of Harry Potter, or Star Wars, synthesizes Jenkins' observation about the direction our culture is taking, citing a push from the top to extend the impact a specific franchise might have on consumers, as well as a decided effort by consumers to take in as much information on as many platforms as possible – or necessary – to satisfy complex consumption habits. The culmination of Jenkins' examination of culture occurs when Jenkins delivers an overview of the political landscape and the role convergence culture will have on its development in the future. Citing most notably the Internet rise of Howard Dean and his television-based downfall in 2004, Jenkins almost prophetically details the possibilities for our increasingly digital culture to raise participation and foster a more active, aware, and apt body of citizens with the power to one day take control of the political process the way it has of its entertainment as new and old media converge.

Of all the implications Jenkins generates with his examination of convergence culture, the implications of literacy are most important. Jenkins delivers a mode of literacy that is multifaceted; literacy is no longer limited to the ability to read, but limited only by the content developers' imaginations and their expectations of the consumer. When a few corporations dominated television broadcasting, the model was simple: executives delivered content and consumers watched — minimal literacy was required. But now, not only are we expected to engage products on a fundamentally deeper level, we are engaging them on levels that may be unfamiliar to us. American Idol expects us to not only listen to singers, but to judge them critically — an often-undeveloped literacy. Survivor generated robust knowledge communities, soliciting a far deeper engagement to a franchise than most are used to. Films like Star Wars, The Matrix, and the Harry Potter series ask consumers to not only watch a movie, but to read a book, play a game, engage with others online, and dissect alternate incarnations of characters in different media, all often at the same time. This heightened expectation of consumers complicates basic literacy. Literacy often determines the ability of an individual or group to engage in a particular discourse: without the expected competency in a particular arena, one cannot be expected to engage productively. This is especially important when we take into consideration the ideas expressed in Jenkins' afterword. He muses on the potential for our political engagement, suggesting a participatory political culture not unlike the one we see with our entertainment. For those who can develop the necessary components of participatory culture's literacy, this is an extremely positive, hopeful notion that will guarantee increased engagement. But for those who have been left behind already in what Jenkins calls the participation gap, civic engagement could become even more difficult, further alienating them from public discourse. Participatory culture is as of yet trivial, overrunning popular culture, but not the fundamental basis of society. If we are going to move towards a predominantly participatory society altogether as Jenkins suggests, we need to be sure that it does not come at the expense of others' engagement.

Selective Literacy

We've all seen the power of literacy, especially its ability to leave particular illiterate groups disenfranchised. Too often the difference between a respected, influential group in society and a systematically underrepresented one is, among other things, a significant gap in literacy. In our increasingly digital culture, it's easy to assume that identity markers have begun to melt away and hierarchy has disappeared, as literacy requirements presumably have been shed as well. However, with regard to my online community, this couldn't be farther from the truth.

I reported previously on the clear hierarchy that exists on this site; rich as discussion routinely is, the elitism of the board's upper tier makes its way into too many arguments, often to everyone's detriment. But on what basis is this hierarchy generated? Naturally, as we see in our offline society, there are countless factors that determine status and placement. But, also evident in our offline culture, literacy can be a significant factor in placement, even more so than offline. This is because where we are able to use countless identity markers to consider social position offline, online identities, especially on my board, are products of one's posts. And when a person's words are the specified characteristic that generates a given identity for along while, their competency in the topic being discussed essentially defines who they are and what position their opinion holds.

This doesn't seem entirely unfair, though. Why shouldn't someone with a great wealth of musical knowledge be given a premier voice in a community that discusses music (particularly rap music)? The problem lies in the fact that those that aren't as familiar with the genre — who haven't been listening for multiple decades, or have completely digested the entirety of every "important" rapper's catalog — are constantly discredited. There's no room for revision; you are either completely familiar with a song or album in its original context from its original release, or you have no say (and you're white).

Well fine then. So the elder statesmen of the forum are on top when it comes to what essentially entails historical discussion. We can assume the conversation is equalized when the conversation comes to newer artists since everyone has equal access to information, right? Well, no, we can't. The second problem is that people who have a fluency in artists of today contrast heavily with those on top of the hierarchy because those on top of the hierarchy are deliberately ignorant when it comes to today's developments. Part of being on top of the discussion board is being unfamiliar with or disapproving of newer artists. Some of it is because they sometimes reject the conventions of the genre that they are so familiar with from decades of engagement. But most of it is just a product of being ignorant; no generative discussion is had about newer artists because the tastemakers of the board don't care enough to have an opinion. Even worse, if you are more familiar with today's artists than you are with those of years past, your literacy is considered inadequate and your opinion is largely invalid.

Literacy — but not proficiency —determines where you stand in the Okayplayer hierarchy. Selective literacy is given the greatest status overall, which is destructive because it breeds contempt with gathering new knowledge and building new opinions. Have you seen an example of elitism getting on the way of discussion in your experiences?

A Crowd of Experts

One of the interesting questions in debating the value of crowdsourcing is whether the concept can be imported across disciplines. The most successful incarnation of crowdsourcing has undoubtedly been in the world of the news media, especially online. With the implementation of the iReport in CNN's endless repertoire of excessively tech-y news delivery systems, the crowd has been legitimized by an established media organization – a legitimization long forthcoming since the popularity of newsblogs, often run by "ordinary citizens," overtook the popularity of newspaper subscription. But what happens when we try to port crowdsourcing outside of the news arena and into some other common disciplines?

Different disciplines require a unique amount of proficiency and training in order to be competent while partaking in its activities; while it takes a significant level of skill to craft a well-written presentation of information, the actual gathering of information and observing of events requires very little occupational education. On the other hand, it requires several years of rigorous schooling and practicing in order to approach a level of competence in the field of medicine – no ordinary person can simply hop into a surgery room or behind an X-ray machine and deliver acceptable results. This is also the case in engineering – but not necessarily in graphic design. This variation is key to the question of whether crowdsourcing can be ported into a new discipline: when we need greater expertise, the ability to crowdsource significantly decreases. And in the case of education, where we count on teachers to offer an authoritative voice of reason, discussion, excellence, maturity, and understanding, perhaps crowdsourcing falls flat. But what if we change the parameters of the "crowd"?

An experimental surgery hits a dead end. The chief surgeon is called in, but has no ideas that might bring about progress. What if this situation was crowdsourced? Dozens, or even hundreds, of surgeons all weighing in on the situation through a live video feed of the procedure would generate ideas far more quickly than the lone surgery team of this particular hospital. Similarly, if a crucial engineering decision needed to be made regarding the integrity of a particular structure in a critical situation, what would be better than allowing several creative engineering minds to come together to make the decision? When the crowd is made up of experts in that particular field, progress can be made. And perhaps we can turn to this idea in academia.

Grading in school is ultimately subjective: no two classes are graded on the same basis, with the same standards, requiring the same level of mastery. Even math classes – where we expect one right answer – can be nuanced, as processes are sometimes given as much or more importance than the end result. Many of us have even approached a level of comfort with a class where we can write an A or a B paper for that teacher. What if grading was crowdsourced to other teachers with a familiarity of the subject? Of course there would be logistical stipulations – what teacher has time to deal with projects from other classes when they have their hands full with stuff of their own? – but let's say these have been taken care of. Would things be better? Fairer? As rhetoricians, we're programmed to write for our audience. If we wrote to a collection of extremely experienced yet unique writing scholars rather than the individual teacher we've spent several weeks picking apart, wouldn't we create stronger work?

Crowdsourcing won't be a passing craze – it'll work its way into our lives more effectively every day. The question is how it integrates into different disciplines, and perhaps crowdsourcing to experts presents the answer to the question.

Okayplayer Elitism

Hierarchies manifest themselves in everything we do. The classroom, the workplace, the home, the online messageboard – everything has its own hierarchy. My online community, while notably rich in knowledge and thorough in discussion, is conspicuously elitist. The topics discussed on this discussion board have a short but deeply detailed history, and a solid grasp on this history is of absolute importance to hip-hop purists. In most discussions, having a wide and deep bed of knowledge is a clear advantage, which earns respect from fellow members immediately. However, the dependency on being an "elder statesman" has resulted in a seemingly intentional disconnect in some discussions.

In discussing newer acts and their legitimacy, influence, importance, or even general worth, while most of the forum is able to complete discussion with few hitches, the community of older members who began listening to hip-hop music in the early 90s – by far the minority, despite their vocality – often enter the discussion simply to state their unfamiliarity: some acts simply can't matter as much because they either haven't floated into their realm of music consumption, or because they don't have the makings of what is considered a "classic" artist. A conservative approach to anything, while it disagrees with my personal taste, is by all means respectable. There is absolutely no reason why many of these members should be forced to change their tastes to remain in accordance with the general hype. The problem of this elitist, or purist, attitude is that it can sometimes dominate the discussion. These elitists sit atop the hierarchy on one of the Internet's most dominant, active, influential, populous hip-hop forums; they can serve as tastemakers for many. With this distinction, many hard-working, respectable artists are denied fair due because they are cast aside. Across the Internet and around the country, a new rap collective can be making waves, playing shows, releasing albums, and gaining notoriety on the basis of their own merits and not as a result of a major label promotional kick – but such a rap collective is treated with pure condescension and nonchalance by these high-ranking okayplayer. members.

The hierarchy is well established, and almost impossible to penetrate (the ability to move up in this hierarchy is a topic on its own), and as a result, it's highly influential. The implications of the hierarchy are often positive: if you want to find out the hip-hop climate at a particular moment in the genre – when The Notorious B.I.G. first became popular, when Dr. Dre owned the genre, when Jay-Z stepped up from being a minor player to a rap mogul – these purists and historians are invaluable. But if you want to marvel at how far Kanye West has come in just half a decade, or the importance of rap blogs in reaching a new rap audience, or how well put-together an up-and-coming artist's mixtape is, their presence can be suffocating.

The Gun That Bleeds

One of my favorite aspects of eXistenZ was the underlying theme of the most dangerous technologies actually being organic, non-metal machines. There are countless examples of this but my favorite is the gun. The church is extremely secure, and one couldn't dream of bringing a conventional weapon into the event – to bypass this, the agent that attacks Allegra assembles a gun made of bone that shoots bullets made of teeth. In this case, the organic proves to be more dangerous than the metal, a theme that is interesting in its reversal from much of what we've seen in previous works we've read in class. In Neuromancer, neither meat nor metal is any more or less dangerous or harmful than its opposite; the convergence of the two was the focus. This was also the case in Convergence Culture: we need to retain our humanity, but embrace and take advantage of the convergence of our digital culture and offline society. In both of these works, though, the organic element is the natural, ordered, and benign, with the encroachment of technology presenting the potential for negativity. In eXistenZ, the reality is that the organic is the most dangerous agent, and this provides us with an array of implications.

What does this mean? It could mean so many things, but I'd like to zero in on one of these meanings. It seems as though Cronenberg is suggesting that we are the greatest dangers to ourselves. What we create, what we dream, what we put into action – the experiences that we design can provide the most effective obstacles to our own livelihood. Allegra experiences a physical manifestation of this notion in the church, but this is true all around us. With every thing we invent, we invent a corresponding disaster: with the ship we create the shipwreck; with electricity we create the power outage. Cronenberg delivers this notion in a complete and direct way – the gun is made of organic, living material, and the game pods are living creatures with umbilical cords. He presents them as things not man-made, but coexisting with man, the ultimate level of convergence. Even when taken out of context and placed on a metaphorical platform, though, the ideas remain powerful, and we are able to apply them to things in our society that aren't meat based. We are often afraid of the metal taking over the meat – but the metal is just an extension of ourselves. We are the meat; we created the metal; we are the metal.

S/R 3

"Death to the demoness Allegra Geller!" Realism combats reality distortion in David Cronenburg's eXistenZ – a film chronicling events that surround hunted "game pod goddess" Allegra Geller and timid marketing intern-turned-bodyguard Ted Pikul, in a dizzying run through simulated worlds of an organic video game experience. Whisked away from the church in the opening scene after an attack by an agent of the Realist Revolution, Allegra and Ted engage in a back and forth struggle with the Realist resistance, who are trying to destroy Allegra and her game pod. Pikul, who has a penetration phobia, receives a faulty bio port from an undercover Realist agent that nearly destroys the game pod; eventually, though, Allegra and Ted are able to move past the issue of porting into the game, and onto the exploration of the storyline of their simulated reality. They continue “stumbling around together in this unformed world, whose rules and objectives are largely unknown, seemingly indecipherable or even possibly nonexistent,” as reality gets further distorted by the entrance into a second, smaller game pod. Within this deepened simulation, Ted and Allegra become involved with the Realist faction, receive faulty information from a double agent they believe to be their contact, kill their actual contact, and plot to destroy all game pods at a factory they work at in their simulation by porting into a diseased one, resulting in a spore explosion of the diseased pod that infects everything in the factory – all occurring in dazzling, rapid succession, blurring what is and is not reality or simulation. Even after their presumed game exit and loss, game characters appear as the Realist resistance is claiming its victory – until the situation folds in on itself, the resistance leader is killed in trying to assassinate Allegra, and Ted is ultimately annihilated by Allegra herself as he turns out to be a Realist agent as well. Allegra assumes this is the game’s true ending, asking “Have I won? Have I won the game? Have I won?” The movie does not end without a final twist: Allegra, Ted, and all other characters from eXistenZ awaken from tranCendenZ, discuss their experience, and everything comes full circle with Allegra and Ted coming forward to kill the designer of tranCendenZ – “Death to the demon Yevgeny Nourish!”

Uncertainty and novelty dominate the film, but it is Allegra and Ted’s responses to these uncertain situations that invoke the greatest need for examination. Allegra notably points out that “You have to play the game to find out why you're playing the game.” The entirety of the movie sits on the thinly veiled premise of these systems of simulation as our individual realities. As a result, Cronenberg seems to be suggesting that our purpose, the driving force behind our existence, can only be revealed once we have had significant revelatory experiences. What is left open to interpretation is whether our experiences shape the reason why we play the game, or whether our experiences are predetermined by the game itself – the question of free will. Important to eXistenZ is the fact that while the framework of the game is programmed by the designer, the game is populated by characters, missions, motivations, and villains that are born out of a player’s neurological impulses. Similarly, it can be inferred that, while there is a system that has been set up for our experience in life – a system socially, physically, economically, geographically, ethnically, sexually, and pscychologically constructed – it is our personal choices and actions that populate this framework and bring us to our current state of being. Game urges still exist in eXistenZ as impulses that cannot be defied, but the truth is that these impulses are generated by the user him or herself. Likewise, when we endure something in our lives that feels out of our control, it is our travails, both before and after birth, that have shaped the scenario within which the uncontrollable events occur. Our life experiences are shaped by our natural purpose, but our purpose behind can only be expressed through the experiences we have had.

The Social Dynamics of Anonymity

"One thing to keep in mind about social media: the internet mirrors and magnifies pre-existing dynamics."

Undeniably true, and, ultimately, not startling. When it comes to Facebook – as evidenced by the discussion we had in class this past Thursday – we rarely engage meaningfully with others outside of the group of people we interact with regularly. I also caught a glimpse of what Danah Boyd describes in the stratification that is reflected online by the Facebook and MySpace divide; I switched from a public middle school to a fairly wealthy private high school thanks to a scholarship, and it was only then that I became familiar with Facebook to begin with. This was thanks in part to Facebook's infancy, but even over the years, a far larger percentage of my schoolmates at my private school had Facebook accounts in place of MySpace accounts, whereas, while there were plenty of people popping up on Facebook, the amount of MySpace users remained substantial.

So what happens when we bring ourselves into anonymous spaces? Can our offline identities create stratification when they are simply not present? To answer this, I can only reflect on the limited experience that I have had with the site that has become the object of my cultural comparison report. The medium of the messageboard essentially presents transparency or anonymity to the degree you choose. There are members of the online community that are extremely open about their personal life and try to reflect themselves in as true a fashion online as they do offline; at the same time, there are members who put little effort into representing their offline identity. The community I'm examining is one that meets on the premise of discussing hip-hop music; as such, it's a predominantly black community and it's aware of this. This has created a cliché in the community – sometimes used in jest and sometimes used with sincerity – that excuses misinformed opinions as a byproduct of "being white." In this way, Boyd's acknowledgement of pre-existing dynamics is accurate. However, there are plenty of occasions where these dynamics are thrown out the window, simply because it's impossible to uncover the identity of the person you are engaging. There are situations where favor is given to the more knowledgeable person on a particular topic, with race or class or gender becoming irrelevant. I have even gotten into discussions with others on topics that are generally outside of the realm of things I often talk about offline simply because of the anonymity granted by the site. This freedom only occurs because I am truly outside of my socially constructed boundaries.

But how did I get outside of them? Well, I'm outside these boundaries only because the boundaries are dropped. In an environment that is at first anonymous and only reflects a true offline identity when the user populates the space with its own story, social stratification cannot occur without the subject creating their strata. When it comes to discussing music, this can be done without bringing much of a deeply personal perspective to the table, and an anonymous user can remain more or less anonymous. However, when the discussion starts to branch out into topics that require a perspective that can only result from a socially constructed experience, even without deliberately describing one's own identity, the reality of who we are can become apparent, and social stratification can occur. This was especially apparent when I began to venture outside of music or sport discussion and began engaging political or current event discussions; event the most anonymous members began to reveal their identities without deliberately attempting to do so.

This is definitely an idea that requires far more attention than I've given it. I assume that further examination of the messageboard dynamic would confirm my suspicions: it seems that in trivial or impersonal situations we can escape our pre-existing identities, but otherwise, we will always fall victim to the reality of existing social dynamics.

Inverting Augmented Reality

Benkoil's piece on Augmented Reality lifts NYT writer Michael Young's definition of AR: "layering digital information onto the physical world." The article goes on to touch on interesting, entertaining, helpful, frightening examples of AR at its best and worst. But what has had me thinking since reading the piece is what happens when we do the opposite: layering physical information onto the digital world?

It's not Augmented Reality, but an inversion of it – coming up with a specific word for this touches on the impossible task of determining what is reality and where the line ends, especially with regards to cyberspace. And with digital and physical now repersenting opposites to a dichotomy we have come to accept in our society, it's not far-fetched to think of "physical" and "digital" representing two fully-fleshed out conventions of experience. With all of this in mind, head over to Google Maps, and play around in street view. Everything about the experience of Google Maps is digital, but it simply could not exist without the overlay of true, physical information. With the increasing ubiquity of GPS-enabled smartphones, this inverted AR scenario borrows even more from the physical in order to feed the digital, as Google Maps can offer you directions or satellite photography with regards to your exact location.

What else in the digital world couldn't exist without physical information? User generated content on the Internet fits this inverted AR definition just as well: Facebook wouldn't work as a purely digital space without the insertion of physical information – our lives. Any productivity software, from financial tracking, to dayplanning, to presentation making, requires the inclusion of physical information to exist. Even online shopping couldn't exist without the layering of physical information, or else we wouldn't have products to sell and prices to compare.

In the end, it seems as though most of the stuff we interact with online has a physical overlay to it, and without this physical layer of information, the Internet would be empty. Everything we do online, with very rare, nonessential exceptions, is based on some sort of human or physical data shared online. It is interesting, then, to flip back to the original topic at hand, AR. The reality we experience everyday, separate from our computers or iPhones or the Internet in general can only be enhanced by digital information; the digital world we engage in on almost-equally frequent basis simply could not exist without this physical information. Benkoil tells about USPS, and the idea of being able to hold up an item to a camera, then being told what shipping container to use, which is an awesome simplification of tasks we deal with, but not something that creates a possibility that wasn't already available. In our inversion, removing the physical information breaks the model, rendering it useless. The building blocks of the digital world are fragments of our human experience.

So, luckily, reality hasn't lost to cybereality.

Yet.

S/R 2

William Gibson’s Neuromancer is as much a philosophical trip through the implications of technology merging with the human experience as it is a riveting tale of crime and cyberspace. Broken into 5 distinct acts, the novel opens with extensive groundwork being laid for character construction. Case, our protagonist, is described as an exceptionally talented cyberthief who attempted to steal from his employer and got caught, driving his employer to poison Case with a toxin that wipes out his ability to jack in to cyberspace. The second and third of the five sections proceeds to detail the assembly of the team involved in the coming mission. This team includes Molly, Case's extensively modified partner in crime, Armitage, Case's unstable new boss and beneficiary, Peter Riviera, the psychopathic hologram-projector, and McCoy Pauley, a now-deceased cyberspace operator who was transferred into a ROM. The fourth and largest section is a series of shorter chapters detailing the actual mission embarked upon by the team. All of the action in this mission takes place on Freeside, a world unto itself, manufactured by the Tessier-Ashpool family, separate from planet Earth. On the mission, we are introduced to this corporate-structured family, and it is revealed that they are behind not only one but two different artificial intelligence entities in the novel, Wintermute and Neuromancer, both of whom are striving to combine, which turns out to be the reason for the team's mission – retrieve a password and allow the AIs to merge. Climactic scenes, involving battles, deaths, misunderstandings, and revelations abound in these short chapters, which end with Wintermute and Neuromancer taking the steps necessary to combine, but not before Armitage’s psychotic break and death, the erasing of the McCoy Pauley construct, a broken leg for Molly, and Riviera's death. The final of the five sections simply details the mission’s aftermath – within it, Molly leaves Case, Case speaks with the new combined AI, and it is revealed that Case has returned back to work he was doing before the mission, bringing the story full circle, as if the mission never happened.

Amidst the twists and turns of the plot, Gibson frequently returns to several themes he presents throughout the book, the most important of which is identity, especially when represented by two parts, ideas, entities, or concepts. Gibson poses the question of whether or not we can successfully merge two parts in order to create a greater whole – and he works to answer this question with countless examples, ranging from technology and humanity, to cyberspace and reality, to family and corporation, to Wintermute and Neuromancer, to Tessier and Ashpool, to power and emotion. In every single case that Gibson presents, the merge cannot happen without one of these original entities being destroyed upon combination – a universality that Gibson works skillfully to manufacture, but fails to, simply because reality disagrees with Gibson’s presentation of these mergers. We live in a world of augmentation, and our cultural identities are often not only informed by a duality of influences, but by a large multiplicity of influences, the number growing every day. This augmentation reaches beyond our identities as well, manifesting itself in countless ways throughout our lives, in technological streamlining, media convergence, and throughout history. People and ideas evolve but it rarely takes the destruction of who they were or what the idea began as in order to put that change into effect. The reality we live in is saturated with successful partnerships, innovative marriages of technology and theory, and other dualities at every turn. Gibson is fascinated with human nature and its destructive tendencies, especially when presented with opposition or change, but he ignores our absolutely magnificent ability to adapt, incorporate and progress. In a world where marriage exists, corporations merge, multiracial people connect equally with their multiple backgrounds, and segregation is slowly becoming a convention of the past, one thing is clear: change can occur without destruction.

Neuromancer + Wintermute = :)

Duality consumes every bit of Neuromancer. But the duality we see in Neuromancer is not two simply coexisting facets of a given entity or situation – duality is presented as a competition. Destruction of one identity is what breeds combination, and this theme is present throughout the novel.

While this theme is present throughout the novel, from The Dixie Flatline's existence in cyberspace as a result of his real-life death, to Case's inability to experience reality or cyberspace without significant sacrifice, to the simple fact that physical modification in Neuromancer as a result of technology results in the destruction of the human element, it is no better exemplified by the products and existence of the Tessier-Ashpool corporation. Most obviously, the longing Wintermute has to combine with Neuromancer represents the primary act of combination and duality in the novel. Combination cannot occur without Wintermute's self-destruction, but the urge to combine and grow into something greater — in this case, a god-like entity — overpowers Wintermute's yearning for self-preservation. The combination of Neuromancer and Wintermute, two machine identities, represents the idea of duality as a destruction of at least one part of the combination in the least damaging light, an intriguing development on its own. But perhaps more fascinating in Neuromancer is the "meat" side of the Tessier-Ashpool relationship with duality and destruction.

On its surface, Tessier-Ashpool seems innocent enough: just the combination of two names and families that came together. However, an examination of the familial history of the Tessier-Ashpool group reveals the consequences of duality in its darkest representation. First, the literal — Ashpool strangled Tessier before Tessier's grand vision was given the opportunity to come to fruition. The joining of two families, Tessiers and Ashpools, resulted in the literal destruction of one of these partners at the hands of the other. This immediacy in destruction, with one entity being responsible for the destruction of the other, is a powerful fact that cannot be understated. Throughout the novel, in order to build, one must destroy; the Tessier-Ashpool family enjoyed great wealth and fortune through establishing a large software development company, but not without a grave cost.

More abstract — but far more powerful — is the notion of the Tessier-Ashpool collective as a family and as a corporation. At the stage in which Case encounters the Tessier-Ashpool group, they are primarily a corporation with familial remnants discernible only in the grudges that remained between living and dead members of the family. In their tireless pursuit for success, the notion that the Tessier-Ashpools are a family dissolved. The Tessier-Ashpools represent a dual identity — part family, part corporation — but these two parts could not effectively coexist. As with all other examples of duality in Neuromancer, from the AIs, to the marriage of Tessier and Ashpool, to the bodily modifications in the book, to Dixie Flatline, one part was destroyed in order for the existence to continue. In typical Tessier-Ashpool fashion, the part destroyed was destroyed at the hands of the opposing part: the family was destroyed by the corporate ambitions of the group.

Dichotomies play an extremely important role in Neuromancer, but the nature of their creation holds an even greater value. Headlined by the Tessier-Ashpool corporation and its creations, this theme has a stake in every piece of action in Neuromancer. One of the biggest questions posed by Neuromancer is that of the intrusion of technology on the human experience, and vice versa — but more important is the question of whether we can combine these two aspects of reality into one without completely destroying the other.

Neuromancer 1-5

Amidst the tight twists and turns of the plot and the striking array of technological vocabulary, Neuromancer taken a very curious stance on gender roles and the distortion of the female – and sometimes human – identity. Molly, Case's de facto partner throughout the beginning of the book, represents this identity distortion most effectively and drastically, delivering proof of technology's stranglehold on the human and female experience in Neuromancer.

The author himself plays a broad role in the differentiation of females from society's accepted norm. Molly is decidedly dominant – a simple but powerful character trait that responds to and contradicts the traditional gender roles, especially at the time of the writing of this novel. She drives much of the action, and is far more informed than Case is about anything that is happening in the novel after their initial acquaintance. Her informed demeanor and dominant personality contrast with Case's forced participation and often detached action; Case seems to be numbly drifting through the novel so far. Reflecting this inverted power structure extremely well is the scene in which Case is fitted for and subsequently linked into Molly's senses works. The details Gibson delivers in this scene position Molly as once again the dominant character, as Case is literally forced into passivity while Molly leads the way. He is forced to see through her eyes and feel what she feels; upon command, Case retreats from Molly's senses.

Molly's role in Neuromancer is importantly influenced by the digital fingerprints technology has left on her existence; she is defined and recognized by little more than the changes that have taken place in her life. Most of her senses are explicitly modified – her fingers sport razor blades and her eyes sport an active monitoring display. The eye modification is especially interesting; the mirrors largely obstruct the view of her real eyes, so eye contact can never be made with Molly. Extensive modification has also seemingly created a largely emotionless personality within Molly, which also digresses from conventional gender identities. Technology's role in Molly's involvement in prostitution also serves as an identity deconstruction, as both people involved in a transaction are experiencing something completely removed from a real interaction. Throughout the book, she is characterized by her upgrades and surgeries – this is even true for our protagonist Case. He has had nearly no work done on his body, except for the toxin sacs that Armitage surgically inserted into his bloodstream, and even then, this surgery essentially defines and drives Case as he progresses through the novel. We are explicitly told about the modifications received by nearly every single character introduced in Neuromancer – Gibson wants us to see people as not the summation of their life experiences, but as the summation of technological experiences, as these technological experiences literally shape who they are at a given moment, and often why they are doing what they are doing.

All-Star Sunday Under the Table

Of all the takeaways from Jenkins' Convergence Culture, the idea that left the most lasting impression in my mind is that of the instant recognizability of our changing world. Jenkins' work was not simply philosophical musings and far-off theorization: what Jenkins was describing is happening around us, and the immediacy of his writings have struck me as most interesting in the wake of reading and responding to his book. One of the most fascinating examples of convergence that has captivated me throughout the semester is the role it has begun playing in sports. Sports are no longer isolated events; with the growing influence of Twitter and Facebook, as well as advancements in technology for in the home and online, sporting events have truly become events that take in a realm that expands far outside of the confines of a sporting events given venue. This has admittedly long been a theme in sports; some people listen to a game on the radio, some attend live, some watch on tv, and these practices have been going on for decades. But today, we have a way bigger sphere of influence that sporting events are reaching. No longer are we confined to the venue itself, the tv, and the radio: we have Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, iPhone apps, online streams, and even text messages, all telling us what's going on at the same time.

The NBA All-Star game represents this new model more than anything in recent memory. This past Sunday, the Staples Center in Los Angeles played host to basketball's finest players in one of the greatest All-Star games in recent memory, and potentially of all time. Kobe Bryant walked away with MVP honors after a staggering 37 point, 14 rebound performance, with his Western conference squad eeking out a win, while the Eastern conference team fell despite LeBron James' extremely rare All-Star Sunday triple-double – 29 points, 12 rebounds, 10 assists. Kobe Bryant failed to score in the last 7 minutes; Kevin Durant scored some huge baskets to preserve the Western conference lead; LeBron James lead the East back from 17 down to within 2 in the final minutes; the Eastern conference team featured a lineup containing four players from the same Celtics team at times. None of these tidbits necessarily matter: what does matter is that I know all of this... and I didn't watch the game.

This past Sunday also happened to be the date set for a dinner I was to have with my girlfriend's mother and my girlfriend's mother's best friend; I was meeting them for the first time. The night was pleasant and went very well – but I didn't get to see the game at all. What was billed as one of the best All-Star lineups in years seemed as though it was simply going to come and go for me while I was having dinner at Sushi Zushi in downtown Austin.

But, this is 2011. Not 2002. The All-Star game is not limited to an engaging television event any longer. With the NBA GameTime app on my iPhone, I received notifications of the score at the end of each quarter, along with the winner of the MVP trophy. Facebook statuses reflected the goings-on of the game. Hip hop blogs had the halftime show, which featured Rihanna, Drake and Kanye West, complete in the glory of his shiny red pants, available to watch before the game was even over. Tweets reduced the games most exciting moments into bite-sized pieces of information and under-a-minute long video links. Years ago I would have hoped that the VCR managed to record the game successfully, then come home to watch it, while avoiding any information about the game before doing so to not ruin the surprise. In our converging social experience, even though I wasn't going to be able to watch the game, I received the full experience of the game. I'm able to discuss the happenings of the game online and with friends in person – I've argued endlessly that Kobe Bryant didn't deserve the MVP award. Yet, outside of the combined 4 or 5 minutes of YouTube links I've watched with snippets of action, I shouldn't have an opinion on what happened because I didn't see it. And even though I didn't see it, I experienced it. This wealth of information that we have at our disposal, and the countless platforms with which it can reach us, leaves no event out of reach.

While this example may seem extremely trivial and unimportant, it's honestly really startling to reflect back on: I watched the game, without watching the game. I would have loved to sit down and spend 2 and a half hours watching the game's best players fly around, putting up nearly 300 combined points, but I know just as much about the game as I would've anyway without having seen it. This immediacy of information doesn't lessen the experience of watching the game, however, as I still plan on watching it when I get a chance this week since I have it recorded. But to be able to take in the entirety of the All-Star game – or any other important social or cultural event – without actively engaging in it is exceedingly interesting, slightly frightening, and endlessly question-raising. What does it mean to experience things anymore? I experienced everything about the NBA All-Star game from a phone sending me messages, and quick site glances all from under the table, or during bathroom breaks at a Sushi Zushi, as well as a quick scan of social networking sites upon getting home after dinner for more specifics on what it is that I just "experienced." Is this all an enhancement to the game? Or a replacement to the game? Or is the game itself a supplement to this cross-platform experience? It was a replacement for me, but it seems as though this social interactivity is positioned as a supplement to the game by the NBA. Even then, it could be argued that the game itself simply gives us a reason to convene in these spaces; we want to converse with others in this online space, but we need a reason to – on Sunday, the game and its halftime entertainment was that reason. Convergence culture is real. And I know this because I watched the All-Star game while I ate sushi with my girlfriend and her mom.

Evil Bert Laden Takes On Gangsta Rap

Brown's essay on Evil Bert Laden is centered on the notion that interpretation as we know it needs to go through a major overhaul. Our current interpretive impulses are simply insufficient: in trying to extrapolate meaning out of the unlikely pairing of Sesame Street's Bert and Osama bin Laden, we miss out on the concept of true significance. What Brown sees as important is not the basis upon which Bert and bin Laden happened to meet on the Bangladeshi posters. It is the fact that the two can share and have shared a space – that two wildly different and ultimately opposing symbols or ideas can conceivably meet. The possibilities of previously concretely divided cultural artifacts and concepts colliding, for Brown, are most intriguing. What Brown suggests may result is an ultimate bridging of gaps and a movement towards peace; by eliminating the contrasting "us" vs. "them" element of differing culture and presenting this distinction instead as a coinciding – albeit not unified – "we," a mutual understanding and shared experience can develop, which can be nurtured into peaceful and productive coexistence.

Let's take a step back, though. Brown's ideas are definitely novel and just barely plausible in the right climate. But they are by no means practical. In my reading of Brown's essay, I was struck by two important points. First is the practicality of Brown's lofty implications of this cultural mashup. In our Youtube era, with an increasing amount of media consumers becoming proficient enough to produce content attractive to other viewers, the novelty of the bin Laden and Bert unification is lost. In a culture where we autotune the news, bizarre juxtapositions of seemingly disparate elements of national or international culture happen far more regularly than Brown leads us to believe. A prime example of this juxtaposition recycles Brown's fascination with Sesame Street, presenting us instead with Bert and Ernie meeting purveyors of gangsta rap, Mash Out Posse (M.O.P.)'s Ante Up.



Brown effectively reduced Bert and bin Laden into metonym's for Western and Eastern culture; in my example, our puppet friends represent children's entertainment, and the M.O.P. song Ante Up represents gangsta rap. The creator of this video spent an afternoon splicing episodes of Sesame Street and syncing them perfectly with one of rap's most mindnumbingly vulgar, violent, and frankly awesome hits – it's fair to say, as it was in the West-meets-East clash of Bert and bin Laden, that these two pieces of culture couldn't possibly mix in a reasonable setting. However, with the creation of this video, upwards of 6 million and counting viewers has taken in the deliriously weird and funny sights and sounds of Bert and Ernie playing the parts of Lil Fame and Billy Danze in Ante Up. This viewership doesn't even include the viewers – and creators – of the endless numbers of slightly unfortunate copycat videos featuring other puppets or childhood cartoon characters taking on hip hop staples. Yet still, even with the astounding popularity of these cultural appropriations, Brown's suggested results – both his lofty hypotheticals regarding unification, and his nervous suggestion about our desire to undress content for meaning – failed to surface. There was and still is no bridge between hardcore rap culture and educational children's entertainment; there was and still is no critique of the American culture that houses both the extremely abrasive and the predictably tame; there was and still is no discussion of a middleground that comfortably acknowledges the presence of both pieces of our national culture. Instead there are just laughs at the novelty of it all. Perhaps it is rather fascinating that the person that created video has an extensive library of Sesame Street videos, extensive video editing skills, and an ear for gangsta rap – but this will not ever be the center of the conversation around this video.

The reason that Brown's suggested hypothetical and assumed results failed to surface lies in the second point that struck me while understanding Brown's essay. He says our interpretive impulse should be shifted to seek out the implications of cultural appropriations, rather than the subtextual meaning of it all. However, as seen with the Ante Up vs. Bert and Ernie example, neither of these interpretive perspectives prove to be fruitful. What seems to be a much more reasonable interpretive impulse is to seek out an understanding of the source of the juxtaposition. In understanding the source of the juxtaposition, we can understand the intended meaning. This would discourage the truly beneficial aspects of Brown's hypothetical peace-building operation that is birthed by cultural appropriation; by accepting the intentions of the creator and not deconstructing the media in front of us, we are limited to the singular purpose the author offers. However, a dissection of authorship and its context delivers a learning experience free from the unnecessary meandering of publications like the NY Times, or irrational paranoia as shown by the owners of the Sesame Street brand. By first understanding the fact that the posters were the results of hasty, opportunistic printers, the entire narrative surrounding the Bert Laden controversy would have been radically different from the start. Perhaps the reason behind the very limited dialogue that was produced by Bert and Ernie indulging in their fake gangsta rap alter-egos, the video creator explicitly states the sheerly recreational nature of the video. Reality dispels manufactured experience. If our interpretive impulse was to understand the foundation of the information we receive, we may become more rational and reasonable as a society. Bert and Ernie may be the puppets, but we are the ones who need to take control of our own experiences and actions. Ante up.

Cybersubculture Comparison Choices

The online communities I have chosen to join are SoundCloud, a social music uploading, sharing, and interacting site, and the okayplayer. messageboards, which supplement the blog, which focuses largely on music discussion, especially hip-hop.

S/R 1

Henry Jenkins' Convergence Culture offers a look into our rapidly shifting social experience. Jenkins is very distinct about his definition of convergence; dismissed is the concept of the oft-talked about "Black Box," a convergence of our popular gadgets and appliances into one general tool that serves as our television, computer, entertainment systems, communication devices, among countless other things. Instead, Jenkins ushers in a look at the "cultural shift as consumers are encouraged to seek out new information and make connections among dispersed media content" (3). What Jenkins argues is that we are in the midst of a dramatic change in our cultural landscape. In order to emphasize his observations, Jenkins offers several case studies. A foray into the world of Survivor spoiling offers a glimpse into knowledge communities, and the power of collective intelligence that occurs when people – especially in an online environment – "harness their individual expertise toward shared goals and objectives" (26) including discovery and exposition. The other side of this startlingly hyperinvolved set of consumers is the large entertainment and media groups who deliberately set out to create media that encourage active engagement and participation from its consumers. Jenkins focuses extensively on the top-down model of corporate entities engaging consumers and the simultaneous bottom-up grassroots engagement bred by communal interest in order to paint a picture of convergence in our cultural and entertainment sphere. One case study that effectively defines and describes much of what Jenkins refers to with convergence culture is that of The Matrix and its transmedia-based franchise. Diving into the world that the Wachowski brothers manufactured, Jenkins reveals a vast network of "interconnections between the various Matrix" (116) that all work together to deliver a larger narrative than can be consumed in any one medium. This example, as well as the example of Harry Potter, or Star Wars, synthesizes Jenkins' observation on the direction our culture is taking, citing a push from the top to reach outward to extend the impact a specific franchise might have on consumers, as well as a decided effort by consumers to reach out and take in as much information on as many platforms as possible – or necessary – to satisfy complex consumption habits. The culmination of Jenkins examination of culture occurs when Jenkins delivers an overview of the political landscape and the role convergence culture will have on its development in the future. Citing most notably the Internet rise of Howard Dean and his television-based downfall in 2004, Jenkins almost prophetically details the possibilities for our increasingly digital culture to raise participation and foster a more active, aware, and apt body of citizens with the power to one day take control of the political process the way it has of its entertainment as new and old media converge.

While Jenkins offers well-researched and intriguing examples of convergence at work in our culture, it seems as though one aspect of convergence culture goes largely unacknowledged throughout the book. With top-down and bottom-up convergence of media occurring simultaneously, Jenkins fails to assess the resulting quality of media that results from such convergence. While ultimately subjective, the quality of shows like Survivor and American Idol must be examined in order to completely understand the cultural narrative Jenkins is building around us. An examination of Survivor that reaches below the surface seems to expose some of the worst – and yet entertaining – aspects of human nature; American Idol represents the triumph of theatrics and superficiality over artistic value in its commodification of the vocalist; the intricacy, span, and staggering scope of the world that the Wachowski brothers deliver does not inherently result in good quality media or entertainment. While Jenkins does do a good job of bringing these examples to light, his failure to examine the actual quality of the media leaves does not do the examples justice. At the same time, given the examples Jenkins offers and their debatable merit, the question of convergence culture resulting in simply bad media is a frighteningly real possiblity. With primary emphasis being placed on the interaction a consumer has with the media at several different points and on multiple levels in order to expand the power and influence of the brand, quality of any specific aspect of the media can absolutely be sacrificed for any given consumer. By having contestants simply revisit exisiting classics in their performances, American Idol sacrifices artistic integrity for the sake of consumer engagement; The Matrix, with its countless entrypoints, fails to deliver any one medium to its greatest potential. Jenkins is remarkably observant and synthesizes his observations extremely convincingly: convergence culture is happening. But do we really want this?

Cultural Degradation Experts

On page 257 of his Convergence Culture book, Jenkins introduces the opposing viewpoint to the "realizable utopia" he and Pierre Lévy introduce throughout the book, Calling it "critical pessimism" and allegedly lead by scholars like Michael Crispin Miller and Noam Chomsky, this opposition stresses the same things, such as participatory culture, but on a different basis: "victimization" instead of "empowerment." Jenkins criticizes this thought by attacking its lack of faith in the engaged and active consumer of culture, but also by attacking the stranglehold that critical pessimists claim big media corporations have on the cultural landscape.

In the conclusion of Convergence Culture, where Jenkins presents the notion of these "critical pessimists" on pages 258-259, he rather quickly dismisses critical pessimists' merit and moves on from their opinions as soon as he introduces them. But is this fair? Does he give their point of view enough thought? Is Jenkins so different from them throughout the book?

In short, no, no, and actually yes. Based on Jenkins' very rough and unique explanation of their viewpoints (critical pessimism exists nowhere in cultural scholarship outside of that paragraph in Convergence Culture's conclusion), one may gather a very limited view of scholars like Chomsky, McChesney, and Miller. Chomsky is a monumental name in modern thought, linguistics, philosophy, activism, and culture in general; it is true that his writing has villainized large media, but he has done so in order to paint a portrait that connects the large media corporations to the filtered information that we receive. Thus, he does as Jenkins proposes use victimization as a basis for participatory culture, but he also suggests empowerment. To rely solely on victimization in order to spark any sort of progress would be counterproductive, and Chomsky recognizes this: it was the power of (corrupt) people that set up the media climate, but it is also average people that have the power to have a profound change on the role of the media in our lives. Miller is another example of a misrepresented scholar when describing critical pessimism. Much of Miller's writings present case studies that effectively lay out the abilities of large conglomerations to affect our media and culture in frighteningly powerful ways. Miller works in the concrete while Chomsky works largely in the abstract and theoretical, but they are arguing the same idea in principle. However, to simply state that Miller too presents the current media climate as impossibly oppressive is inconsistent with the direction of his writings. He has just been straightforward with the scenarios in which powers above us have had a profound impact on general culture without our ability to exert influence. It is true that Miller uses these scenarios he lays out as reasons for us to participate more heavily in culture, but Miller writes for the purpose of exposing our missteps in hopes of us later on being able to reign in these large media and cultural organizations that we've let grow without any real restraint or attention from the public – not to present victimization and use impending doom as a valid basis for out participation.

As far as Jenkins' perspective is concerned, there is little doubt at a superficial level that he presents a theory that is different from that of Chomsky or Miller: Jenkins presents empowerment and they present victimization. But they don't present irrational victimization; instead they present metered prose and reasonable, well-developed examples of situations where cultural machines out of our current reach have been able to have an impact on our life without our influence. So, a second look might suggest that these critical pessimists only provide a more realistic view of the fight we are up against. However, a third and final analysis of what is going on brings us to a final conclusion – Jenkins truly does have a different point and perspective. What Miller and Chomsky and McChesney lack in their writing is example of people having overcome that barrier and beginning to truly participate in culture in new ways that they hadn't before. Jenkins presents mostly encouraging information and toys with wonderful possibilities with measured expectations throughout Convergence Culture. He does acknowledge what critical pessimists spend much of their scholarship on, but he presents the solution as well. Thus, critical pessimism is a bit of a misleading term. Chomsky and Miller and McChesney are not pessimistic in their outlook: they are just more thorough in their evaluation of the negative.

Perhaps they need a new name: cultural degradation experts.

My Beautiful Dark Twisted Reality

Over the course of Jenkins' Convergence Culture, we've seen the transmedia experience take several different forms. Most common has been that of a transportation to a different reality, engaging in a fabric of other lives and experiences, resulting in a franchise that serves as something of a "cultural activator" (Jenkins 97). In order to create this engaging experience, Jenkins says that the
"transmedia story unfolds across multiple platforms, with each new text making a distinctive and valuable contribution to the whole" and avoiding redundancy (Jenkins 97-98). The examples Jenkins gives of this horizontal integration of media range from the heavily discussed The Matrix franchise, to other hugely popular media goliaths, such as Star Wars, Harry Potter, Pokemon, and Yu-Gi-Oh, to, as mentioned earlier in the book, reality shows like Survivor and American Idol, which engage consumers on multiple fronts and encourage their participation beyond superficial viewing. The unifying thread that runs throughout each of the examples that Jenkins has put forth is the notion that "storytelling has become the art of world building, as artists create compelling environments that cannot be fully explored or exhausted within a single work or even a single medium" (Jenkins 116). These transmedia experiences are products of alternate realities. The Wachowski brothers built their empire on a universe that lies just outside the boundaries of our own; other experiences, such as Star Wars and Harry Potter and the like lie even further away from reality. Even Survivor and American Idol reappropriate reality into a media-manufactured commercial environment – perhaps the most foreign experience of all. From Convergence Culture, one might assume that the blueprint to a transmedia experience must be framed by the transportation to an alternative world.

Ignored by this blueprint is the transforming transmedia music culture we see today. Music used to be rather monolithic; anything outside of the audible realm was supplemental to the songs and albums artists would release. Tours represented places people could go to hear a band's songs in person. Music videos represented visual supplements to songs. Merchandise represented materials a band or label sold to promote the music. However, with the recording industry in freefall, the blueprint for the way an artist promotes and releases music is changing – even the realms within which an artist works is evolving and expanding. No artist has embraced – or embodied – this change more in recent times than rapper Kanye West.

Kanye West began blogging in late 2007. Unlike many other artists' and record labels' blogs, however, his posts were far more than just updates on music matters. He would post art, fashion, old music videos, new music from his peers, and things he simply thought were cool. It was a window into his mind, and an outlet for his tireless activity. But it was difficult to imagine that this sort of intimacy could reach any higher plateaus beyond this.

Moving forward to 2010, following his reclusion after the Taylor Swift incident, Kanye West would direct all of his energy towards a transmedia experience unlike anything else witnessed in music history. Kanye visited Facebook and Twitter headquarters in the early summer of 2010 and was videotaped performing a few songs acapella in front of employees at the respective institutions; shortly after the news of these meetings came out, Kanye West's reinvigorated Internet presence was born. Kanye's Twitter account offered an even more intimate look at the inner workings of his mind with tweets that painted a portrait of a workaholic insomniac obsessed with opulence and without a filter. While Kanye continued to flood our timelines and newsfeeds, he suddenly began flooding our iTunes libraries. He spent 2009 appearing as a featured guest on song after song, but with the creation of "GOOD Friday's," we saw Kanye surround himself with guests of his own on song after song released every Friday night. As soon as we could wrap our heads around one new song from Kanye, another was on its way with a new band of extremely high profile guests joining the cast and submitting to his methods. The influence of his weekly giveaways cannot be understated; they sparked endless conversation and even imitators along the way, but laid the groundwork for an album that was in the works. But before the album was released, Kanye West showed of his directorial skills and put together a 35 minute short film built off a script he primarily wrote, that starred himself, and featured several songs off of his upcoming album. The film, Runaway, represented unmarked territory for music artists of any genre, but offered yet another entry point to the experience that is Kanye West. All of this – from the tweets to the weekly songs to the movie to even artwork that painter George Condo did for Kanye's album and singles – snowballed into the November 22nd release of Kanye's album titled My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, a critical smash and commercial success, ending up on top of countless year-end critic lists, as well as near the top of the list in album sales, behind only Eminem and Taylor Swift.

Kanye West's album was not one that could simply be digested on its own. Not only was it unfair to consume on its own: it was impossible. Kanye created a truly integrated media experience, not unlike anything Lucas, Rowling, or the Wachowski brothers created with their franchises. Also important to the media experiences that Jenkins has described is the role of collective intelligence in their examination; Kanye West's transmedia run could not be excluded from this company on this account either though, especially if one took the time to look at the online rap communities invigorated by his output. However, what Kanye created, even with its centerpiece ironically titled a Fantasy, presents more of a reality than any of Jenkins' examples could claim. We experience Kanye West's media assault in so many ways, but none of them lie anywhere outside of our realm of familiarity.