Most people are well aware that the internet is an imposter’s paradise.
It’s no secret that many take to the Web to be the person they yearn to be, but there’s a certain and increasingly creepy trend on social media that relentlessly continues to boggle my mind. Every morning without I fail, I check my timeline on Twitter and see a reposting of some trite cliché guised as wisdom. If that didn’t suck enough on its merit, many of these tweets come from fake celebrity accounts.
Exhibit A from “@frank_ocaen”: “If you really knew me, you’d know that I’d make myself miserable, just to make someone else happy” (this account has been suspended, glory!)
Exhibit B from “iChaningtatum”: “Human beings, by changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their lives.”
Well, fake Frank, should anyone really care either way about who you are given that you don’t? And counterfeit Channing Tatum, I don’t even know what that means so I won’t bother.
Not to be outdone, there’s that other pesky poser account for Will Smith, among many, many others. Even your cousin’s favorite conspiracy theory – the Illuminati – is out here sharing musings like, “Nobody deserves to be treated like an option.”
Shouldn’t that account be tweeting up stuff such as, “We will reign all over humanity, one Jay-Z and Rihanna track at a time?”
Most, if not all, of these account holders claim to be doing a parody, which reminds me of another social media constant: far too many folks use words without understanding their actual meaning.
A parody is defined as “a literary or musical work in which the style of an author or work is closely imitated for comic effect or in ridicule” or a feeble or ridiculous imitation.”
There are lists of the best and worst celebrity parody accounts and other examples like the blog Suri’s Burn Book, the new political parody “Paul Ryan Gosling,” and even I used to do a mock celebrity advice column on my personal site.
I know what a parody is and it’s not pretending to be Will Smith or Satan’s social club while dispensing advice found from the fortune cookie that came via their order of beef and broccoli.
Read the rest here.
Meanwhile, this makes me want to bring back “Help Me.” If you’re unaware, as mentioned in the piece it’s a mock celebrity advice column that I used to do. Why did I stop?
If you’ve never read any of the entries, you must click now. And then like, suggest some names. Please? Yeah, yeah, I’ll be thinking, too.