Gepostet vor 4 Jahren, 4 Monaten in
Schönes Posting von Kevin Kelly über das exponentielle Bombardement mit Außergewöhnlichem durch das Netz: The Improbable is the New Normal.
That light of super-ness changes us. We no longer want mere presentations, we want the best, greatest, the most extraordinary presenters alive, as in TED. We don't want to watch people playing games, we want to watch the highlights of the highlights, the most amazing moves, catches, runs, shots, and kicks, each one more remarkable and improbable than the other.
We are also exposed to the greatest range of human experience, the heaviest person, shortest midgets, longest mustache -- the entire universe of superlatives! Superlatives were once rare -- by definition -- but now we see multiple videos of superlatives all day long, and they seem normal. Humans have always treasured drawings and photos of the weird extremes of humanity (early National Geographics), but there is an intimacy about watching these extremities on video on our phones while we wait at the dentist. They are now much realer, and they fill our heads.
Ich hab' da 'ne Weile drüber nachgedacht und unter Kellys Posting folgenden Comment abgegeben, auch weil dieses Blog an diesem Bombardement nicht ganz unbeteiligt ist. Zu einem Schluss bin ich nicht gekommen, aber den Gedanken will ich trotzdem hier festhalten, vielleicht ergibt sich daraus nochmal etwas ganz anderes:
Great Post, but I'm not really sure if this is a Thing. You have the same effect since media exists, from the begin of the first Newspapers in the 19th Century, the yelling Paperboys screamed Things in the Streets that were „remarkable“ [and extraordinary]. Also: Freakshows and Circus.
Ofcourse, the Web turns up the Heat and bombards us (the more tech-savy, the über-informed) exponentially with stuff, but I'd not say that this Effect is really new. Like most of the stuff with the Web it's a question of scale. That's what transforms and challenges us. It's the sheer Volume of the Effect, not the Effect itself, I think.