21st Century Renaissance
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    I was reading an article this morning called “The rebirth of cool” by Carl Wilson who has written a book with the sub-title: “A Journey to the End of Taste” (yes, I confess, the FT snuck into our house again this weekend.) The best bit of the piece I must quote, it is so good: “In online commerce, it’s a given that your tastes define you and not the other way around – and in fact, you, as a person, are mostly a bothersome fleshy wedge between your demographically predictable predilections and your credit card number.” More of this later, but why couldn’t I think of that brilliant sentence, let alone get to publish the second edition of a book?  Anyway, Carl’s book is a music critic’s attempt to understand Céline Dion's immense global popularity – along with the question of what drives personal taste and whether it is possible to change it. His new edition is subtitled “Why other people have such bad taste.”

All very of-the-moment and interesting, but, it was the mention of Céline Dion that reminded me of an amusing footnote I read some years ago in Mary Roach’s book Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers. This is an absorbing account, told with the skill of an investigative journalist, of what happens to human cadavers, their decay and much more - great gift for the medicine or forensic science enthusiast.

In the chapter about transplantation Roach refers to the fact that the ancient Mesopotamians believed that the heart was the seat of the intellect (not the brain) and the liver was the seat of affectivity – or the emotions.  She points out the amusing fact that if we had held on to the Mesopotamians belief that the liver was the seat of love then Céline Dion’s version of “My heart belongs to you” would have been sung as “My liver belongs to you”. (Have to admit I stole this line for my speech at the 50th birthday party my liver-surgeon husband).

But back to ‘taste’ being the currency of social media - something to be bought and sold in big data to sell on to advertisers and marketers who are like the fleas of the internet – very hard to get rid of without a complete clean out. The only real solution being a complete removal of your self from the online world.  I received an email recently from a gentleman called Ben (no last name) who presented himself as the manager of a business called Social-Media Likes.  He assured me they had a database of individuals who were “searching for organisations like yours to caliberate with through your Facebook or Twitter pages”.  Anyone out there know how to caliberate?

He was selling though (shall we call him an advertising flea?) Prices went as follows: £50 for 2,000 Facebook Likes; £50 for 6,000 Instagram followers; £45 for 7,000 Twitter followers; £50 for 30,000 YouTube Views. Gosh! I could buy ‘likes’ and ‘followers’!  Did this mean I could sell them on? And could I sell them on for more than they had cost me and make a profit? Was there a futures market in this? Was getting an ‘unlike’ a way for me to get credit?  Could you steal ‘likes’? 

On doing the maths I find that Twitter is a reasonable 0.64 pence a follower. Facebook is a rather pricey option at 2.5 pence a ‘like’.  But Youtube is definitely under-confident offering itself at only 0.16 pence a view.

So for the 99 people who have viewed my Youtube video, at the going rate you’re worth just over 50 pence each. Don’t worry – I don’t want to sell you. Yet.

5th May 2014, AH


Reviews

The Visual Time Traveller
This is a labour of love, insanity, beauty and, perhaps, an attempt to reintegrate history, art and science together again.
  Simon Cocking Irish Tech News

Crabbing
Her range of language is both staccato and soft, in succinct verse, which encourages you to read this aloud, truly the best way to engage in the emotional depth of a poem. 
​
Deirdre Conroy Sunday Independent

Poetic Licence in a Time of Corona

​Your poems tell us all we need to know Ryan Tubridy, RTE Radio podcast
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CONTACT

NOT RETAIL
21st Century Renaissance
The Glasshouse
Harbour Court, George's Place
Dun Laoghaire, A96 R8CT
Co. Dublin, Ireland

E [email protected]
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VAT number 3761911TH

​© Twenty-First Century Renaissance Ltd 2022   Associate member of Publishing Ireland; Member of Independent Publisher's Guild    All rights reserved  

  • home
  • about
    • blog 2014-2020 >
      • I first met Arnie
      • Do you ever get the feeling
      • Sisyphus May
      • Brexit bulldog
      • revision notes the 8th amendment
      • one billboard outside dublin
      • save the 8th or save ireland
      • Letter from Mysuru
      • Letter from India i
      • raining on our parade
      • twitter harakiri
      • am I a writer?
      • come on the Guardian
      • I hope the BBC was reading too
      • brace yourselves gentlemen
      • time to air a dirty little Irish secret
      • Let them eat brioche
      • id ego superego in a venn diagram
      • The physics chanteuse
      • The Untouchables (with apologies to Eisenstein)
      • Depressed. I think my new boyfriend is a chatbot.
      • Election grief
      • Help I'm on too many platforms
      • The questions I would have asked at the leaders' debate
      • a selection from one of my platforms
      • Shhh! It's the Angelas
      • Politics 21st Century
      • The Fumbally Fairy Story
      • My alternative vision at the save our seafront meeting
      • A fond memory of the ferry to Dun Laoghaire
      • the second book deal
      • redacted letters in an artwork
      • the unprinted letters part i
      • a photo blog from Cefalu
      • My 2116 vision (including women in power)
      • Rear Admiral Lunchalot (guest blog)
      • Dun Laoghaire and the cruise ships >
        • An American visitor's thoughts
      • Eclipsed
      • 50 ways to please your mother
      • To tweet or not to tweet
      • Protestant angst
      • The New TD
      • Having the Twitters
      • The democracy box
      • LGBTH?
      • The book signing
      • Dining out on Hong Kong
      • The British Isles happy family
      • Dear UK, Love from Ireland
      • Art that almost moved me to tears
      • Your smart big brother
      • The card that Sappho was dealt
      • it's a relative question
      • My liver belongs to you
      • a melting pot of Irishness (in our new passport)
      • The Dialogue, with apologies to Galileo
      • Sartorial surveillance by An Garda
    • letters >
      • 2026
      • 2021 to 2022
      • 2019 to 2020
      • 2018
      • 2010 to 2017
    • Poetry >
      • Cocooned
      • Fragile
      • Fisherman_Kerala
      • The last two pots of marmalade
      • Untitled
      • fledgling
      • cast adrift
      • Poets and their editors down in the school yard
      • I am Eire
      • Aisling
      • Your children are not your children
      • Where you lie
      • The family that...
      • Two doves
      • They told me Heraclitus they told me you were dead
      • Gone
      • Terms & Conditions
      • Crabbing
      • Cold day
      • Gift
      • When I am dead my dearest
    • articles >
      • Cruise ships in Dun Laoghaire harbour a Titanic mistake
      • An Irishwoman's Diary
      • On Dun Laoghaire (and walking the pier)
      • Typos
      • The Institute of Psychics?
      • The Physics PR Minefield
      • When Design Matters
  • shop