Five days ago, a small town in Missouri passed legislation outlawing online harassment in response to the story of one teen who committed suicide after insulting MySpace bulletins were posted about her.
According to the Suburban Journals story, 13-year-old Megan Meier had struck up a friendship on MySpace with a 16-year-old boy who at first was a good friend to her, then suddenly ended the friendship a year ago, saying he had heard she was mean to her friends.
In truth, the boy's profile was fabricated by a small group of people, including the mother of one of Megan's former friends in a neighboring household. More than one person had the password to the fake profile.
After reading the online insults, Megan hanged herself in her closet. She died the next day.
Megan's mother Tina said she believes her daughter died thinking the boy and his opinions of her were real.
According to an AP story, the unanimous resolution adopted by Dardenne Prairie city officials makes it punishable by a fine of $500 and up to 90 days in jail to cause someone "substantial emotional distress" online, or for an adult to contact a minor in such a way as to cause a reasonable parent to fear for the child's well-being.
The law comes too late to allow Tina to press charges against those involved in creating the fake MySpace account. Police so far have neither closed the case nor made any charges. And although Tina monitored her daughter's use of MySpace very closely, she had no way to offer protection against the hurtful words slung at her daughter.
According to a column by Suburban Journals writer Steve Pokin, who initially broke this story, there has been an outpouring of support for the Meier family both online and in their hometown.
And, according to a report by USA Today, the blogosphere has reacted by humiliating the family of the mother who participated in this fabrication. Piecing together clues from the original story, bloggers posted the mother's identity, address, phone numbers, workplace, and a satellite image of her house on rottenneighbor.com and other Web sites.
Neighbors have put up signs decrying the actions. The family's advertising business is being boycotted. People have held protests in front of the house and have made fake 911 calls that bring the police inside the house, according to this LA Times report.
Megan's parents have (perhaps understandably, but still illegally) also done physical damage to the property of their neighbors.
This example of internet shaming is better than a mob lynching, but only just.
Cyberbullying and lying about one's identity may not be illegal, but we can likely agree that some part of this exchange was immoral, and therefore should have been illegal. Taking steps to pass legislation, as the city did in this case, would be one step in solving that problem. It creates one more functional network between the ideal of morality and the structure of legality.
It's doubtful the new misdemeanor the city created can really provide the correct legal framework for addressing the larger moral issue--but it is one positive legal step that a healing community needs to take. For the most part, it's a healthy reaction.
The same cannot be said for internet shaming.
Confronting someone based on information about their actions that may or may not be true has a valid place. But maliciousness is maliciousness, no matter how strongly people feel that the cruelty is deserved.
Consider how this may have started. Two girlfriends ended their friendship. It seems there were some bitter feelings. No matter who was right or who was wrong in that break-up, someone decided that emotional cruelty was a deserved punishment, and used the fake profile to that end.
Now, internet vigilantes have made that same decision. And their cruelty isn't solving the problem... it's continuing the cycle.
Tell your congressman to push for legislation that brings justice to those who harm others maliciously online. Do something real for Megan Meier. Don't participate in the same cruelty used by the perpetrators. Learn from mistakes--and build a bridge between legality and morality.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Review: Pushing Daisies is drama but comedy, modern but fantasy
Tim Burton's "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" meets Jean-Pierre Jeunet's "The Fabulous Life of Amélie Poulin," and they get happy and land a TV series.
That's ABC's 8 p.m. Wednesday show "Pushing Daisies" in a nutshell.
Though set in a modern world, it feels like a fantasy, and the show would be dark if it wasn't so darn funny.
The main character, Ned (Lee Pace) discovers as a boy that he can touch the dead and bring them back to life. Unfortunately, if he touches them a second time, they will die again and this time cannot be brought back to life. His gift also comes with a price: to bring someone back to life, someone else in proximity must die.
If you're thinking that sounds similar to the life-giving-and-taking in Daniel Knauf's "Carnivále," don't. This show is about as dark or dusty as the kitchens of the robot women in "Stepford Wives"--that is to say, it is sparkling, polished, and shiny.
A private investigator ( Chi McBride) happens to discover Ned's extraordinary ability, and hatches a surly plan to collect reward money by investigating murders with Ned at his side. They interrogate the dead in a routine and hilarious manner before killing them again and collecting the reward money.
They run into trouble when Ned has to revive his childhood sweetheart (Anna Friel), who soon becomes a regular in their investigating team. Ned, who falls in love all over again, can't ever touch her or she will die, and they have to resort to amusing displays of affection (for example, kissing while wearing dry-cleaner bags).
Meanwhile Ned's neighbor Olive (Kristin Chenoweth) is jealously in love with Ned, and is forced to rely on Ned's dog for the companionship she longs for from Ned.
With episode names like "The Fun in Funeral," "Bitter Sweets," and "Corpsicle," the show promises to make light of the sadder side of life. A heavy feature are side characters who have severe social anxieties, from anorexia to social depression, that are casually solved in a narrated summation at the end of every episode.
The fact that what should be dark is made mostly hilarious adds to its charm and quirkiness. Fortunately for us, the humor does not overshadow important dramatic moments. The narrator (Jim Dale), who ties all the scenes together, does a soothing job of underlining their comedic or dramatic importance for us, similar to the narrator in "Amélie."
While quirky and charming, the narration sounds formulaic after only three episodes. "As Ned was (insert amusing verb with a short explanation of motives here), Olive was (insert wacky attempt to get attention from Ned here)..."
Every time Olive's desires for Ned seem to get too intense, a quick line from the narrator or an interruption of song places her role back firmly into the category of comedic. The line between serious and laughable is constantly danced on and chalked over, which makes the show feel like a dark, cartoony fantasy similar to "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory."
The creator is Bryan Fuller of "Dead Like Me" and "Wonderfalls." It airs at 8 p.m. Wednesdays on ABC. Be ready to laugh at death and to fall in love with the characters.
That's ABC's 8 p.m. Wednesday show "Pushing Daisies" in a nutshell.
Though set in a modern world, it feels like a fantasy, and the show would be dark if it wasn't so darn funny.
The main character, Ned (Lee Pace) discovers as a boy that he can touch the dead and bring them back to life. Unfortunately, if he touches them a second time, they will die again and this time cannot be brought back to life. His gift also comes with a price: to bring someone back to life, someone else in proximity must die.If you're thinking that sounds similar to the life-giving-and-taking in Daniel Knauf's "Carnivále," don't. This show is about as dark or dusty as the kitchens of the robot women in "Stepford Wives"--that is to say, it is sparkling, polished, and shiny.
A private investigator ( Chi McBride) happens to discover Ned's extraordinary ability, and hatches a surly plan to collect reward money by investigating murders with Ned at his side. They interrogate the dead in a routine and hilarious manner before killing them again and collecting the reward money.
They run into trouble when Ned has to revive his childhood sweetheart (Anna Friel), who soon becomes a regular in their investigating team. Ned, who falls in love all over again, can't ever touch her or she will die, and they have to resort to amusing displays of affection (for example, kissing while wearing dry-cleaner bags).
Meanwhile Ned's neighbor Olive (Kristin Chenoweth) is jealously in love with Ned, and is forced to rely on Ned's dog for the companionship she longs for from Ned.
With episode names like "The Fun in Funeral," "Bitter Sweets," and "Corpsicle," the show promises to make light of the sadder side of life. A heavy feature are side characters who have severe social anxieties, from anorexia to social depression, that are casually solved in a narrated summation at the end of every episode.
The fact that what should be dark is made mostly hilarious adds to its charm and quirkiness. Fortunately for us, the humor does not overshadow important dramatic moments. The narrator (Jim Dale), who ties all the scenes together, does a soothing job of underlining their comedic or dramatic importance for us, similar to the narrator in "Amélie."
While quirky and charming, the narration sounds formulaic after only three episodes. "As Ned was (insert amusing verb with a short explanation of motives here), Olive was (insert wacky attempt to get attention from Ned here)..."
Every time Olive's desires for Ned seem to get too intense, a quick line from the narrator or an interruption of song places her role back firmly into the category of comedic. The line between serious and laughable is constantly danced on and chalked over, which makes the show feel like a dark, cartoony fantasy similar to "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory."
The creator is Bryan Fuller of "Dead Like Me" and "Wonderfalls." It airs at 8 p.m. Wednesdays on ABC. Be ready to laugh at death and to fall in love with the characters.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Dot Com What? - Ten Years Behind
When I want to learn about a new technology, I ask my little sister... not my teacher.
General Education classes are a repeat of high school classes.
Every job I apply for requires at least a bachelor's degree.
It takes me six years to graduate because classes are either too full or canceled.
When "real-world" experts come into my classes to speak, they admit they don't know what the future of my field will be.
When I want to know about current trends, I turn to Web sites run by professionals my age who understand what's going on... not my teachers.
And you wonder why I'm facebooking through my classes?
School today is especially irrelevant. I've heard it said that universities are typically ten years behind the times. (Let's make an exception for the Silicon Valley schools, which clearly have been internet innovators, not laggards.)
That puts schools even with innovations in 1997. Back then, the dot com bubble had just begun to rise. The Nintendo 64 was released, and for the first time a computer beat a World Champion chess player. And the first version of the Java programming language was a year old.
Wait, really? Java is 10 years old? Computers haven't always been more capable calculators than humans? Computer graphics look way better now than in the days of the Nintendo 64... We have really come a long way in a short period of time!
The pace of technological innovation is astounding. We've all heard the mantra "six months to obsoletion." Who wouldn't be scared by that? There's a lot to learn for anyone. I remember when I could skate by on an English assignment simply by making a Web page that impressed the teacher, who had no idea how to do such things. That was back in the day, you know... before xml replaced html.
Innovations are made to make things better, faster, easier, and prettier. It's exciting and daunting to learn about.
And the experts have to struggle to stay on top of it. They always have to learn new things to simply function. Teachers don't have to learn new things to function... they can teach the same old same old... but if they want to remain experts, they have to learn new things.
In all my journalism classes, I have never once been taught the basics of how to get a good photograph, nor how to capture and edit audio, nor how to build a dynamic Web site or to write for a dynamic Web site. If I do any of that, it's because my friends help me. It's because they know how to do it and because they understand why it's important.
I might find teachers who agree that I should be capable of all those things, but I won't find many teachers who are actually rebuilding their course work to reflect that.
People my age are interested in the new lifestyle the internet affords us, because we're living that lifestyle. And hungry to learn about it. Frankly the best way to do that for me is to talk (or facebook) to my friends, and my little sister's friends - people who adapt quickly to new technology, who aren't afraid of it, and who can teach me what they've learned by trial and error.
It's preferable to learn in a school setting, where concepts can be explained formally, and (ideally) textbooks can feed the fundamentals of new concepts for the hungry brain to devour. Academia has perfected learning over the last two thousand years. But lately those learning institutions have failed to be relevant in an environment where learning and adapting is everything.
General Education classes are a repeat of high school classes.
Every job I apply for requires at least a bachelor's degree.
It takes me six years to graduate because classes are either too full or canceled.
When "real-world" experts come into my classes to speak, they admit they don't know what the future of my field will be.
When I want to know about current trends, I turn to Web sites run by professionals my age who understand what's going on... not my teachers.
And you wonder why I'm facebooking through my classes?
School today is especially irrelevant. I've heard it said that universities are typically ten years behind the times. (Let's make an exception for the Silicon Valley schools, which clearly have been internet innovators, not laggards.)
That puts schools even with innovations in 1997. Back then, the dot com bubble had just begun to rise. The Nintendo 64 was released, and for the first time a computer beat a World Champion chess player. And the first version of the Java programming language was a year old.
Wait, really? Java is 10 years old? Computers haven't always been more capable calculators than humans? Computer graphics look way better now than in the days of the Nintendo 64... We have really come a long way in a short period of time!
The pace of technological innovation is astounding. We've all heard the mantra "six months to obsoletion." Who wouldn't be scared by that? There's a lot to learn for anyone. I remember when I could skate by on an English assignment simply by making a Web page that impressed the teacher, who had no idea how to do such things. That was back in the day, you know... before xml replaced html.
Innovations are made to make things better, faster, easier, and prettier. It's exciting and daunting to learn about.
And the experts have to struggle to stay on top of it. They always have to learn new things to simply function. Teachers don't have to learn new things to function... they can teach the same old same old... but if they want to remain experts, they have to learn new things.
In all my journalism classes, I have never once been taught the basics of how to get a good photograph, nor how to capture and edit audio, nor how to build a dynamic Web site or to write for a dynamic Web site. If I do any of that, it's because my friends help me. It's because they know how to do it and because they understand why it's important.
I might find teachers who agree that I should be capable of all those things, but I won't find many teachers who are actually rebuilding their course work to reflect that.
People my age are interested in the new lifestyle the internet affords us, because we're living that lifestyle. And hungry to learn about it. Frankly the best way to do that for me is to talk (or facebook) to my friends, and my little sister's friends - people who adapt quickly to new technology, who aren't afraid of it, and who can teach me what they've learned by trial and error.
It's preferable to learn in a school setting, where concepts can be explained formally, and (ideally) textbooks can feed the fundamentals of new concepts for the hungry brain to devour. Academia has perfected learning over the last two thousand years. But lately those learning institutions have failed to be relevant in an environment where learning and adapting is everything.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
True Love: Intimate Setting, Good Drinks
Restaurant Review: True Love Coffeehouse
Food: * *
Service: * *
Atmosphere: * * *
Drink: * * *
I ordered: Tabouli Salad, Blood Orange Tea, Orange Steamer
The lights in the True Love Coffeehouse were odd colors and unobtrusive.
The colorful chalk menu, written in a very Bohemian way, artsy chaotic, and passionate, made me feel like I was not just ordering a drink but a lifestyle I could be proud of. Full-leaf teas! All organic! $2.75 a pot! Dark Lord Mocha! Cherry Hot Chocolate! The menu screamed "Why be normal? Love life! Down with Mundanity!"
The decor had a similar message: unusual art from (I can only assume) local artists festooned the bright walls, and bands and shops I've never heard of had flyers sitting out on the tables just inside the door.
Because the place is very small, people walking in and out of it will bump into each other as a necessity of passing. While waiting in line to order, it was hard to not feel like I was in the way.
There are movers and shakers in the world, and you can almost instantly tell when you look into someone's eyes for the first time if they are movers or shakers. The cashier had a wild, friendly, let's-shake-things-up attitude that made me feel like part of an art revolution just by ordering from him. I went in to True Love first without my classmates and ordered a steamer.
"What flavor?" he asked.
"Hmm," I said, "Surprise me." I was caught by the art bug surrounding me and thought I'd try my own miniature revolution. Why always order the same old vanilla steamer?
Steamers are milk-smooth cups of frothy warm comfort, and my preferred drink. They are steamed milk with a shot of flavor syrup. Upon hearing my request, the cashier looked me up and down. "Hmm," he pondered. "This is difficult. What if I chose the wrong one? What are you feeling right now?"
"Adventurous," I told him, hoping that would give him the freedom to chose any syrup flavor he liked.
He pondered again before nodding at me. "Got it," he said.
A few minutes later, I was handed a white cup. The froth on top was bubbling pleasantly. I took a sip and creamy orange exploded on my now-burnt tongue. Though I had expected a more vanilla flavor, the warm citrus did not derail my taste buds. In fact, they seemed to fairly dance with the new flavor.
"Like peach rings on ice," I said ineloquently. It tasted nothing like that, of course--I had my citrus fruits all wrong and the drink was definitely hot, not cold!--but I was living the moment, reaching for a bit of artful expression that wasn't really there. He smiled knowingly.... maybe as a way to say "be quiet and drink it."
I sat inside by myself that time, and let my mind wander. It was a cheery place to pass the time, though I found myself wishing I had someone to talk to. I stayed away from ordering the food.
When I went with the group, I had plenty of people to talk to and ordered food. The highlight of the group outing: Visiting with fellow students, and that's what True Love is about. It's a place to be with your friends. Small tables inside and out front lend themselves to an intimate setting. We had six people give or take come and go throughout the dinner, and because the group was so large, we were relegated to the back patio, unfortunately where the smoking was allowed. Aside from choking on fumes, we had a nice conversation.
The food was nothing a student couldn't have made at home. The tabouli salad, a small grain tossed in pesto with small pieces of tomato and cucumber, tasted distinctly vegan--palatable, healthy, earthy--but ultimately less filling than a box of air. The nachos Mike Althouse had been so anticipating looked a little like microwave-at-home nachos, except not as good, as Althouse told me he would have put a little more kick into his home plate. I had ordered a blood-orange tea, delighted because the weather was finally cold enough to justify a hot cup. The tea had a good, strong flavor that I liked. I would order it again if there weren't so many other promising teas on the menu to chose from next time.
Food: * *
Service: * *
Atmosphere: * * *
Drink: * * *
I ordered: Tabouli Salad, Blood Orange Tea, Orange Steamer
The lights in the True Love Coffeehouse were odd colors and unobtrusive.
The colorful chalk menu, written in a very Bohemian way, artsy chaotic, and passionate, made me feel like I was not just ordering a drink but a lifestyle I could be proud of. Full-leaf teas! All organic! $2.75 a pot! Dark Lord Mocha! Cherry Hot Chocolate! The menu screamed "Why be normal? Love life! Down with Mundanity!"
The decor had a similar message: unusual art from (I can only assume) local artists festooned the bright walls, and bands and shops I've never heard of had flyers sitting out on the tables just inside the door.
Because the place is very small, people walking in and out of it will bump into each other as a necessity of passing. While waiting in line to order, it was hard to not feel like I was in the way.
There are movers and shakers in the world, and you can almost instantly tell when you look into someone's eyes for the first time if they are movers or shakers. The cashier had a wild, friendly, let's-shake-things-up attitude that made me feel like part of an art revolution just by ordering from him. I went in to True Love first without my classmates and ordered a steamer.
"What flavor?" he asked.
"Hmm," I said, "Surprise me." I was caught by the art bug surrounding me and thought I'd try my own miniature revolution. Why always order the same old vanilla steamer?
Steamers are milk-smooth cups of frothy warm comfort, and my preferred drink. They are steamed milk with a shot of flavor syrup. Upon hearing my request, the cashier looked me up and down. "Hmm," he pondered. "This is difficult. What if I chose the wrong one? What are you feeling right now?"
"Adventurous," I told him, hoping that would give him the freedom to chose any syrup flavor he liked.
He pondered again before nodding at me. "Got it," he said.
A few minutes later, I was handed a white cup. The froth on top was bubbling pleasantly. I took a sip and creamy orange exploded on my now-burnt tongue. Though I had expected a more vanilla flavor, the warm citrus did not derail my taste buds. In fact, they seemed to fairly dance with the new flavor.
"Like peach rings on ice," I said ineloquently. It tasted nothing like that, of course--I had my citrus fruits all wrong and the drink was definitely hot, not cold!--but I was living the moment, reaching for a bit of artful expression that wasn't really there. He smiled knowingly.... maybe as a way to say "be quiet and drink it."
I sat inside by myself that time, and let my mind wander. It was a cheery place to pass the time, though I found myself wishing I had someone to talk to. I stayed away from ordering the food.
When I went with the group, I had plenty of people to talk to and ordered food. The highlight of the group outing: Visiting with fellow students, and that's what True Love is about. It's a place to be with your friends. Small tables inside and out front lend themselves to an intimate setting. We had six people give or take come and go throughout the dinner, and because the group was so large, we were relegated to the back patio, unfortunately where the smoking was allowed. Aside from choking on fumes, we had a nice conversation.
The food was nothing a student couldn't have made at home. The tabouli salad, a small grain tossed in pesto with small pieces of tomato and cucumber, tasted distinctly vegan--palatable, healthy, earthy--but ultimately less filling than a box of air. The nachos Mike Althouse had been so anticipating looked a little like microwave-at-home nachos, except not as good, as Althouse told me he would have put a little more kick into his home plate. I had ordered a blood-orange tea, delighted because the weather was finally cold enough to justify a hot cup. The tea had a good, strong flavor that I liked. I would order it again if there weren't so many other promising teas on the menu to chose from next time.
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