Monday, September 17, 2007

web analyst in a socnet

It's not easy being an active participating member of a socnet (social network).

A socnet is just an online family that you can join and unjoin or get disjoined from. So, you choose to become a member of the community, and you exhibit certain behaviors as you interact with other members, often in a variety of ways. Each socnet has its own protocols, netiquette, and consensus policies. Trouble-makers are rightly considered trolls.

But what about dissenters?

When you happen to be a web analyst, it can get tricky.

People may think you're starting fights when you're only interpreting and questioning the behavior of other members, or the social network site itself (e.g., why it refuses to listen to users, resists making suggested improvements, won't fix annoying bugs).

Web analyst in a socnet? Dour killjoy critic invades happy, silly flirty, needle nudging, digital hug distributing social media community?

That could be interesting. You make deconstructive remarks in a dry and dull tone, with no vendetta or wish to cause harm, as impersonal as possible? It still gets received as relentless flaming, your many scholarly messages explaining what's wrong with somebody else.

The other members may be startled by such open remarks. They might wish you'd go away. They were cozy and animated with joy, then you come along and upset everybody with caustic point of view and wretched perceptions. You rock the boat nauseatingly with your endless threading. You spoil the party by distributing digital gut punches, to offset inordinate digital hug prosting.

Harshing can be charming, so long as it's not directed at our heros, mentors, role models, or friends. Then we get offended and no longer wish to hear from that subversive iconoclast. We shut our minds and receptors to avoid being subjected to any more blasphemous barbs.

So a web analyst must joke around, share links to good sites discovered in ethnomethodology stagings, and just lighten up now and then, admit a fault perhaps, quote Kipling, or yak up some music band you liked a few minutes ago.

Just don't be __________ (fill in your disliked topic or tone) all the time and remember that some jokers think their Following you is some "gift" they're "bestowing" on you, and they can cruelly withdraw it at any time.

They don't want to read messages they disagree with. You're inflicting painful thoughts on them. They prefer fun and relaxation, and who can blame them?

Blogocombat can be mentally violent at times, upon rare occasions, and the digital bloodbath that can ensue makes some social media freaks disgusted, angry, or feeling like strangling you and your ugly, menacing words.

You become a vile text-generating entity, an object of scornful discourse, socnet leper, blacklister, a villain who deserves back channel, private DM (direct message) rants to subvert your fans. You're entitled to any retaliatory tactic, because you are someone who only hurts and never heals.

You're seen as a disturbance, a disappointment, a dementia.

"I'm out of time for hostile, critical, judgmental anything. Love is the killer app," is proclaimed with bright benevolence. Yes, let us love and not criticize anymore. No more questions, just harmony and support.

You're "hostile" because you're defending a social community against a warped intruder who may be trying to game, exploit, or engage in isolationist self-promotions to the members you have grown to like and respect.

Out of respect for the socnet, you, as nothing more than a lowly worm, question some seemingly invasive big shot.

You must be Blocked, Deleted, Removed, UnFriended, cast out into outer darkness to rot in your swollen karmic sewage. And darn it, maybe they're right. Or something.


Butchie The Minx said...

There is no fucking way I can read all that shit. You are an animal.

steven edward streight said...

@minks in the bushy:

Then I'll summarize it for you, it's just a quick, easy to read lesson in blogocombat on a social network:

Don't mess with the best unless you want to become less (and I'm also well dressed, I confess under duress).