In recent months, selfie sticks have become public enemy number one. Worse than ISIS, worse than gluten, worse than the sideline reporter who said the mean stuff, selfie sticks have become the object of the Internet's endless white-hot scorn (at least for the week). Music festivals and tourist attractions have come out against the selfie stick in full force. It seems like every day another venue bans the poor selfie stick. This must be what NRA members and smokers feel like.
Next thing you know, you won't be able to use your selfie stick in your own home—and you'll have to keep them at least twenty feet from bars and schools, even if you take the proper precautions required of responsible selfie stick ownership. Unfortunately, second amendment rights and tobacco lobbying money don't extend to selfie sticks, so it's up to us to protect our God-given right to get these #fire selfies off when we're feeling our look. Can we live, Internet?
The arguments against the selfie stick are many. They are intrusive. They are obnoxious. They are the perfect symbol of American sloth and vanity. In the great American tradition of the beer helmet, the fanny pack, and the Segway, the selfie stick represents everything that is beautiful and terrible about America, all of its convenience and all of its excesses in one thin metal rod. The selfie stick is even more than that. Selfie sticks are vital to our identity, not just as Americans, but as human beings.
In 2015, we understand that the most important thing in life is to be at the center of your own digital universe.
Many of you may be too young to remember this, but there was a time when we took pictures of each other. In those barbaric days, taking a picture of yourself meant flagging down a passerby and asking them to take your picture. You would attempt to smile gracefully while trying to hide your worry that the picture might turn out poorly or that the stranger might just steal your camera. If you couldn't find someone to take the picture, it was even worse: one of your squad would have to sacrifice his or her place in the picture for the good of the group. This is unthinkable today, as even the most generous among us would never sacrifice those valuable Instagram and Facebook likes, but that's the way things were. Photographic martyrs would actually give up their spot in a photo so that others could get that fire pic in front of the Statue of Liberty, the Grand Canyon, or the Jamba Juice that just opened down the block.
We're more enlightened now. In 2015, we understand that the most important thing in life—the only way to truly live—is to be at the center of your own digital universe. Whether you're doing something as mundane as getting ready for work or something as dope as visiting some old-ass shrine, it is vital that the rest of the world know exactly what you're up to.
Descartes said: "I think therefore I am," and for centuries, those words were good enough. Thanks to the tireless efforts of tech companies and digital brands, we've moved past this stuffy way of thinking. We now know that the truth is "I tweet therefore I am." If something remotely interesting happens to you, but it isn't documented on the Internet, it may as well have never happened at all. Every moment of your life that isn't on the Internet doesn't exist.
1.
They say that certain tribes refuse to allow themselves to be photographed because they believe that the image will rob them of a piece of their soul. In our enlightened culture, we know the opposite to be true. Our soul is constituted of the detritus we toss into the gaping digital maw. Our connection to the world is only as strong as our overall social engagement. We've traded clout for Klout. With each image of our dinner, each gym selfie, each photo in front of the same tourist attraction that millions of people have taken the exact same photo in front of, we strengthen ourselves. Immortality is impossible for those of us with less viral reach than Internet gods like Kim Kardashian or Psy or Grumpy Cat, but to simply be a person, to truly live in this day and age, requires that you exist on as many platforms as your phone will allow. Who needs Heaven when there's the omniscient Cloud?
What concert venues and tourist attractions and museums and monuments and sacred temples don't realize is that selfie sticks allow make them all the more #relevant. Instead of trying to ban selfie sticks, they should be creating hashtags for Instagram and Twitter. We don't go to museums to look at art, we go to museums to be seen looking at art. What the festival promoter doesn't understand is that it isn't the music that matters, but being able to prove that you saw the musician. We're just beginning to see how essential the selfie stick actually is to modern life. Don't be surprised if within a few generations we evolve longer arms or three-foot long retractable middle fingers to enhance our selfie-taking. Follower counts will become the new tribes, and be as essential to the survival of modern man as hunting and gathering were to our pre-super market ancestors.
Lastly, selfie sticks show us of the importance of self-awareness. The sheer amount of pride you must let go of in order to use one, let alone use one in public, reminds even the most serious person that a welcome dose of humility makes us human. No one is cool 100 percent of the time. Everyone is corny. Everyone is flawed. If this stirs up deep feelings of ennui and doubt as you arrive at the uncomfortable realization that you're marching inexorably closer and closer to the technological abyss, then perhaps you should take a selfie. Down the line, you're going to want people to know that you had that feeling, and what better proof than visual evidence?
