Edgy memelords and where to find them
A historic losing streak was not the worst part of the Edmonton Elks game vs Hamilton. But what is to be done?
The Edmonton Elks have tied the record for the longest home-game losing streak in all of North American professional sports. Antlers up!
Their latest game vs the Hamilton Tiger-Cats started off well enough, but the Elks found new and exciting ways to lose, just as they have every week this season. It was comically bad, like a so-bad-it’s-good-movie kind of bad. Watching Taylor Cornelius throw a confounding left-handed pick-six will forever occupy my brain matter as a top-tier live and in-person entertainment memory, no doubt about it.
I invited comrade Mimi Williams along for the ride. My sister from Scarborough had a lot of fun watching her Argonauts trump the Elks in week three, and she thoroughly enjoyed rooting for the rival Tiger-Cats in this latest loss for my Elks. At one point she said: “The third quarter of an Edmonton Elks game is where optimism comes to die.”
I might have left the game early if not for Mimi and the on-field dumpster fire’s entertainment value. Not because I would do that to my team, whatever their struggles, but because of the man who sat next to me.
I had never seen him before; he is not a fellow season ticket holder. He did not seem to even know much about football, but that did not stop him from making up his own colour commentary. It started when the Elks missed an early opportunity, I think it was a dropped pass. Buddy turns to me and says: “Looks like Trudeau trying to flip pancakes, huh? Haha!”
Now listen, this is Alberta, so enduring endless jokes at Trudeau’s expense is part of everyday life. In fact, as an actual socialist, I often make jokes and sarcastic remarks at his expense as well, just for different reasons. Mimi’s draw was faster than mine, however, and she instantly replied: “Yeah, a bit like watching Jason Kenney trying to pump gas!”
Our new friend to my right did not seem to like this response. “Politicians and their pancakes,” I offered. “Hate them all.”
Sometime later, he asked me a question I did not understand. I simply did not recognize it as English. All I could tell was that it was entirely unrelated to the game. I asked him to repeat the question, and this time I discerned “Did you see…” before the same incomprehensible babble. A third time and I still did not understand. Finally, he said: “You know, cryptocurrency.”
“Oh!” I said, perhaps more sharply than intended. “I don’t pay attention to any of that stuff.” Something about my tone made it clear I was not interested in this conversation.
The stadium played an announcement advertising all the ways Edmonton’s transit services can get you to Commonwealth Stadium, including free access to the buses and trains, which is how Mimi and I went to the game. From my right, I hear: “Good thing this isn’t Calgary, or the people on the train would’ve got stabbed before getting here. Haha!” I did not acknowledge this remark.
He and his friend seemed bored at halftime, and after a few moments on their phones he turned to me and announced they had bought tickets to see Avenged Sevenfold in August. I tried to focus on the game, but then he said Avenged Sevenfold—one of my favourite bands back in high school, a band he just paid lots of money to see—was nothing more than a Metallica rip-off.
I perked up in a desperate rush to find common ground. I agreed that their album, Hail to the King, was a deliberate homage to Metallica and other classic metal bands, that I had not listened to A7X’s latest material, but that their first couple albums actually fit neatly in the Metalcore genre and stood on their own as worthwhile listens. I don’t know if he misunderstood me or just wanted to hear himself talk, because he replied, too cheerily: “They’re a Metallica rip-off and I’ll fight anyone who disagrees.” If only the Elks’ offence were so desperate to rush.
My new friend’s most inexplicable, ridiculous remark came after Tiger-Cats running back James Butler broke off one of several big runs through the Elks’ porous defence: “Wow, it’s like Elon Musk lit a torch under that guy’s ass!”
At this point, everyone knows exactly what kind of guy this fella is. His persona was not a bit, I assure you. He was a walking, talking, physical embodiment of the toxic, right-wing, CEO-worshiping memelord you find buried within the hidden replies on Twitter or the more despicable boards on 4chan. The kind of person who pays for a blue checkmark on Musk’s Twitter. The kind of person who unironically posts trad and red-pilled memes. The kind of person who most likely values ‘individual liberty’ above all while, of course, ignorantly benefitting from a society only made possible by collective resources and inspiration. The kind of person who aids and abets fascism, even if he lacks the self-awareness or political education to identify himself as such.
I honestly feel bad for his wife, who he casually mentioned in the first half. When he did I laughed and confessed how frightening it is that 24 year olds are getting married. Mimi quickly exclaimed: “Hey! I was married at 24… and divorced at 25.” I can’t help but assume our new friend’s relationship goes about as well.
On the other hand—and it is a limp, emaciated hand—this same fellow went out of his way to hail a beer-slinger who unnoticingly passed by a would-be patron three rows below us. He did so with a grin on his face and without the snapping you might expect someone like him to show a customer service representative, especially when it comes to securing a $10 can of Coors Light. He even offered to move down a chair to give me more elbow room—we are both on the wider side—when it became clear the rest of our row was not arriving late. To be honest, he reminded me of a many old friends in rural Alberta.
My neighbour’s simple acts of kindness do not absolve him of the tedium and stupidity he rained upon me throughout the game, but it did give me pause. That pause was enough for me to treat the experience seriously. Instead of firing off a snarky tweet and forgetting it, I’m going to lecture you on how this story relates to the broader political quagmire in which we find ourselves.
Most of us hesitate to condemn our fellow creatures, however horrible they are, when we are reminded of their humanity and see flashes of goodness, however brief they are, in them, and that is probably for the best. It’s difficult when there’s a touch of nuance to consider, isn’t it? I think this nuance—the fact we are all unique and complicated no matter how neatly we fit into defined groups and categories—must be the true rub when analyzing individuals in the context of collective phenomena, but I also think this very obstacle is the way forward.
We are more connected than ever before, and with this connection comes a tremendous opportunity to wield the power of individual actors to serve our collective interests, actors like our friend who ensured someone they never met enjoyed overpriced swill at an Elks game. It’s 2023. We don’t have to settle for helping our friends; we have the potential to help everyone. Imagine what we could achieve if every propagandized 24 year old shunned the alt-right and turned their neighbourly instincts toward real class struggle.
Unfortunately, capitalist forces and their political friends have convinced millions of people that individual achievement is the end in itself. The key to their strategy is burrowing fanciful infestations deep into our minds, distractions like even faker fake money, evangelical political absurdity, and idol worship, and our new friend is evidence of how long and well those worms have dined. I do not know how we could even begin to exorcise these beliefs from our culture and collective consciousness, so ingrained as they are and so ill-equipped as we are to fight back. Instead, let us focus our energy in more productive ways.
Forget convincing people to outright abandon individualism and the sense of self: an easier and more effective path is to celebrate individual achievement while making explicit, concerted efforts to contextualize it as part of the whole. The distinction between the two approaches may seem subtle, but there really is a serious difference. More importantly, why shouldn’t it work? We are, after all, talking about the kind of people who, however wrongly, idolize entire ancient civilations for the supposed contributions they made to the ‘Western’ tradition. These people are perfectly capable of buying into the narrative of shared greatness. Our task is to harness, not diffuse, the mythology of the individual so it may serve the collective purpose and common good we seek.
I am not suggesting we go out of our way to coddle and comfort the corrupted. Oftentimes there is no reasoning with these people, and when they obtain critical mass, like many fascist groups have in North America, the only thing that can stop them a power struggle organized by militant, community-led forces. Nor am I suggesting the left employ a nationalist or chauvinist approach to weaponize our latent energies and defeat our enemies. Do not stop punching Nazis and do not emulate their tactics at the expense of our values.
What I am suggesting is meeting people where they’re at. We must find them as they are, warts and all, and when we do, we must leave the door open for growth and reflection, all the while standing guard to slam it shut on the ontologically irredeemable. And, crucially, we must recognize that indoctrinating true believers and theorists is a long-term project; at this point in time, it is far more important to provide a roadmap for ordinary people to engage as they are, for them to harness their preexisting persuasions for the collective good.
To succeed in this we must offer tangible, easily grasped connections between individual actions and how that contributes to our shared goals. Real actions, not just a recycled do-your-part-to-save-the-planet composting campaign. And we must do so, counterintuitively, with far fewer requests for feedback and consultation. People are, increasingly, at wits end with the state of the world. We are desperate to just do something, to be given a job and told how to do it, secure in the knowledge that the something we are doing actually matters, that it will actually make a difference.
A football game may be the perfect metaphor here. Many star players and staff, especially the quarterback and head coach, play key roles in their team’s success. I am afraid that means the modern mainstream left is the stand-in for the Edmonton Elks, and we are losing very, very badly. Nevertheless, we must endure. After all, the annoying, edgy memelord beside me gave up and left midway through the third quarter, and the Elks will win a game again, someday.