Lately when I consume media online, I’ve noticed that I read a few graphs or watch a few minutes and then, in an increasingly frequent breach of self-control, I skip down to the comments to see what kind of discussion the piece generated. The comments can be pretty pointless, but in many places readers offer additional information, alternative viewpoints, etc. that fill out the topic at hand in some cool/useful way. Particularly if it’s something like a recipe, I can look for tips or corrections to the original. In an age that has decided it can largely do without fact checkers, I guess I’m also going there to check the public vote count on how trustworthy the reporting source is deemed to be. And such ready access to feedback has actually changed how I digest new information. Back in the days of paper and ink, I trusted what writers told me to a much higher degree because there was no peanut gallery (aside from whatever family member was in the room) to affirm or question the accuracy of what I had just read. There was certainly no Googling it.
I see the inherent flaws in crowd sourcing your editorial team, but I think I’m also starting to find more and more value it in. Or, at the very least, it has become a defining part of how I consume content for better and worse. On days when it just seems like a time waster, I’ve tried to cut myself off from the comment reading, but I can’t seem to stop. Am I just fact policing? Looking for community? For affirmation of my own opinions? For a laugh? Why is this content so addictive? Why do I let strangers help me make purchases? I particularly wonder about the power I give these people because of how often I’m reminded that, just like the real world, the virtual team is far from infallible. I did successfully install a fill valve this morning with a little help from the internet handy people (though real-world instruction from dad helped way more), but this past weekend’s macaron disaster was in no way diverted by online chef support. I guess at the very root of things I turn to it because, no matter the outcome, it’s good to feel a bit like that Verizon guy when flying solo into uncharted territory.
Hey! So maybe a good way of gauging how well read your blog is is to intentionally introduce a couple of errors into your post and see what sort of response you get. I guess google analytics is more accurate, but where’s the fun in that?
Maybe you already realized that and mis-spelled macaroon intentionally? Or was that macaroni?
Molly replies: Ha! Interesting plan. But in this case, sadly for French pastry chefs everywhere, I did indeed mean the macaron that I typed. Didn’t you hear? It’s the new cupcake! 🙂 I have learned the limits of my abilities, however, and from now on I’ll be ditching the almond meal, adding an “o”, and sticking to the coconut confections of a most similar name. You probably knew that and are just messing with me, but as you can see I took this defeat very personally…
The Internet has done a lot to enable discourse (aside from fact checking,) but I wonder if we are living up to its potential, especially in the new music world. The American Music Center, for just one example, has a couple thousand members, but only a tiny number regularly participate in its blog discussions, maybe around ten or so. And it seems that musical discussion on the web has evolved toward tribal-like groupings where people only talk to those with whom they already agree. Or we see only isolated “comments” on blogs without any real interaction among the participants. And compared to the early days of the Net, which were almost anarchicly free, it seems that big, establishment-oriented instituions now dominate the tone and direction of discussion in music. Has the Internet failed us, or have we failed it?
But how do you find the time?
I have found it quite difficult to fish out anything meaningful in serious discussions. (To discus music, one has to know something about music).
But hey, for recipes and practical repairs, it’s great!
I find a grain of salt useful in both my comment reading and in my macaroon recipe.
Good thing I read the comments section, since I was just getting ready to email you about misspelling macaroon!
Molly notes: Thanks mom!