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So apparently the Mooninites invaded Boston today.
I have mixed feelings about this.
On the one hand, this is a textbook example of overreaction. The devices in question were just light-up boards, they'd been there a while, and the image of Err (or Ignignokt) flipping people off should have been a clue. (Or maybe Boston police don't watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force.) It's also an example of how frightened we've become that a few things that were, in essence, toys can shut down substantial parts of a city. In hindsight, a lot of it does seem like people who were so gung-ho to stop the next Terrist Thret that they didn't check to see what they were looking at.
On the other hand, when I first heard the preliminary reports about devices being found under bridges and in T stations, I was scared. And after learning that it was just a marketing stunt, I feel ashamed of that fear. It's similar to how if a friend jumps out at me wearing a mask and I freak out -- even for a moment -- I'm still kind of pissed off afterward. Neither saying that it was meant as a joke nor pointing out that the mask wasn't even realistic helps with that feeling of angry humiliation.
Perhaps it's just my way of defending that first, visceral reaction, but I would still like to find the marketing exec who okayed this and slap him for a while. And then I'd like to slap whoever was panicky enough to turn the city upside down on account of this. And then I'd like to slap everyone who's had a part in helping our culture become so scared that we jump at shadows.
And no matter what else comes of it, Boston's reputation as a cold and humorless city has been cemented. Great.
I can't help wondering what Dr. Weird would make of this. No, wait, I can imagine. It would involve corn. I'd like to stop imagining it now, please.
I have mixed feelings about this.
On the one hand, this is a textbook example of overreaction. The devices in question were just light-up boards, they'd been there a while, and the image of Err (or Ignignokt) flipping people off should have been a clue. (Or maybe Boston police don't watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force.) It's also an example of how frightened we've become that a few things that were, in essence, toys can shut down substantial parts of a city. In hindsight, a lot of it does seem like people who were so gung-ho to stop the next Terrist Thret that they didn't check to see what they were looking at.
On the other hand, when I first heard the preliminary reports about devices being found under bridges and in T stations, I was scared. And after learning that it was just a marketing stunt, I feel ashamed of that fear. It's similar to how if a friend jumps out at me wearing a mask and I freak out -- even for a moment -- I'm still kind of pissed off afterward. Neither saying that it was meant as a joke nor pointing out that the mask wasn't even realistic helps with that feeling of angry humiliation.
Perhaps it's just my way of defending that first, visceral reaction, but I would still like to find the marketing exec who okayed this and slap him for a while. And then I'd like to slap whoever was panicky enough to turn the city upside down on account of this. And then I'd like to slap everyone who's had a part in helping our culture become so scared that we jump at shadows.
And no matter what else comes of it, Boston's reputation as a cold and humorless city has been cemented. Great.
I can't help wondering what Dr. Weird would make of this. No, wait, I can imagine. It would involve corn. I'd like to stop imagining it now, please.
