Making a Meme

At this point, it should be obvious that presidential debates fall more on the side of theater than they do actual policy talk. They aren't really interviews, and they certainly aren't conversations. They're an exercise in talking in circles until one person either concedes (highly unlikely) or slips up (unlikely, but fun to watch).

Last night, both candidates literally walked and talked in circles in an awkward town hall-style debate wherein audience members and moderators asked them questions and gave them two minutes (or however long they needed to fit in their campaign slogan) to talk. Included in this bit of theater was an on-camera studio audience that sat mere feet away from the two candidates the whole time, holding back sneezes and really debating on whether that butt itch is worth it. Naturally, the internet latched on to these people. One guy in particular stoked their fire.

Ken Bone is a guy from Missouri who wore a red sweater on national television. He also asked a pretty contentious question about energy. This would turn out to be the least compelling bit about him. The internet à la Twitter would go on to immortalize Ken Bone the only way they know how: by pointlessly and inexplicably collating around him in some strange cult ritual of fame-making.

Tweets lauding Ken Bone as the debate's winner began flooding the Internet and pictures of his affable face nestled in his comfy red sweater became instant Facebook fodder. Why? Why does this ever happen? More importantly: why does this always happen?

Since the dawn of televised anything, people have magnetized to strange things, often exclusive from the intended draw. In sitcoms and television dramas, they're called breakout characters (see: Frasier and Barney Stinson). In the news, they're granted an archetype, indicative of something larger in the universe (see: Joe the Plumber). But what about the middle-ground? Where news and drama meets?

This is the place the internet occupies. A self-professed, but oft-unspoken ironic indifference to the goings-on of the world, save for the strange pockets of humanity that sometimes seep through the television. Ken Bone, for better or worse, hitched a ride on one of these moments and came to life quite dramatically over the course of a single night. He became a breakout star and an archetype for the people simultaneously. He's been featured on almost every single major news site.

What is it? Is it the sweater? The question? The name? (It's most certainly the name) It's a bit of everything, I suspect. That last article I linked is a New York Times article seriously speculating on Ken Bone's indecision. And perhaps this is what the media is trying to turn Ken Bone into: the model of the undecided voter, trapped in between two sordid candidates. Undoubtedly, they will say this. But Ken Bone is far more than that. Ken Bone is the model of American popular culture. Our ability to pluck galvanizing inspiration from normalcy and create a star, if only for a moment.

The internet in particular has become a jumping off point for fame, its own chaotic Hollywood system, producing without regard for camera-friendliness or perpetuity. It has allowed society to create a consensus machine, sending odd bits and ends through the grinder, and resulting in strange unfathomable creations. Such as Ken Bone's newfound media attention.

So what is it? What isn't it? It's America. It's the internet. It's fame, poverty, suffering and confusion. It's the media. It's the people. But, really, it's just Ken Bone.