One nice thing about chatting with Edmund is that he knows a lot of people.  While he was in my office today, doing some career-enhancement activities, we detoured through his MySpace friends list.  I recognized a goodly number of names/faces — most of whom were casual chat acquaintances from when I spent more time socializing in the online ecosystem. 

Well, there was the public version of these folks — and then there was the Edmund version.  Which mostly consisted of, “That person is a narcissistic $#&^@,” or, “That person’s photos look nothing like real life.”  (To be sure, there was a handful who got rave reviews.)

The irony is that some of those MySpace pages (and, of course, profiles on the more adult-oriented sites) promoting people who appeared to be the most desirable were, in fact, hiding people who are really rather ugly.  Sometimes, physically ugly, but more often, they’re ugly people on the inside. 

I have encountered this phenomenon myself, of course.  Having chatted with a few of the folks on Ed’s list, my experience corresponded well with his assessments.  There was one person in particular who had a public profile that looked great, but which includes photos that were true perhaps 50 pounds and much less airbrushing ago; I can recall getting rudely dismissed by him, but it turns out that I’m the one who ended up getting the better end of that deal.

OK, so … so what?  Well, our conversation flipped to social attractiveness.  Although a pretty face goes a long way, demonstrations of high social value contribute more strongly to the perception of attractiveness than simple appearance.  The life of the party might be more popular, despite being fairly average-looking, than the really good-looking person who sits in the corner and broods with a drink.  And what drives someone to be the life of the party?  A certain degree of social aggressiveness and a lot of self-confidence.

So, a theme developed — one that seems to cohere fairly strongly.  These “ugly” people have a thread in common:  They’re arrogant as hell.  They think highly of themselves; they demand the best, and don’t seem to care that they’re misrepresenting themselves as being better than they really are, since they believe that they’re great from the get-go.  Others are merely a means to an end for them.

But it’s a funny thing about the arrogant — no matter how wide the discrepancy between what they suggest and what they actually bring to the table, their approach to interpersonal relationships of all stripes is to demand that the other person justify why they’re worthy of the arrogant person’s time.

Edmund and I were, in fact, discussing a person of our mutual acquaintance today, and this behavioral pattern raised its unfortunate head.  The person we chatted about has a history of casually dishonest behavior.  He talks a very good game, but he presents photos that are old (and are from a time when he was much more attractive).  His life is not as put-together as he’d have others believe, and he is skilled in condemning the very sort of shallow materialism that so pervades his worldview.  In short, he’s not even close to the top of the social pecking order.  However, the public face he presents to others has been so shined up that others are initially charmed.  And having been charmed, we want to prove to him that we’re worth his time.  The system inverts, and decent people are kicked in the teeth by a not-so-great person, because we’re trapped into justifying ourselves to the mere appearance of high social value.  Even if such value is inflated.

I’ve seen first-hand the emotional devastation that can be wrought by chronic rejection.  I know a fellow who falls for the “prove yourself to me” trick every time it’s played on him — he falls, hard, for every cocky bastard who gives him a second look, which is unfortunate because he gets quite a few lustful stares.  But the nice guys don’t pursue him, thinking he’s out of their league, so he’s left to bounce from one egomaniac to another and despairing of ever finding happiness.

As a field study, I played a bit with the social-dominance meme at the bar last week.  I was sitting at a table with Andrew and an acquaintance of his, near the back of the bar.  I was dressed in some of the new clothes I had purchased the day before, and was feeling pretty good that night.  So, I stood — as Andrew and Steve remained seated and arrayed before me, facing me more than the crowd.  I smiled, I laughed loudly, I gesticulated with gusto — and I got checked out.  Several times.  Why?  Because I appeared to be holding court; others were voluntarily placing themselves in a position of relative submission in my presence.  And that dominance attracted.

People wear many masks.  It’s important to remember that the mask isn’t the reality, and that any time someone demands that you justify why they ought to pay you attention, the correct answer is to disengage politely and move to the next person.

Of late I have been embroiled in, or party to, more interpersonal dramas than usual, and I’ve also been on the receiving end of a lot of gossip.  This has prompted some reflection.  But first, an observation.

A few days ago, I attempted to send an instant message to a friend over the AOL network.  As it happened, I mis-clicked on someone I haven’t spoken to in quite a while.  Because I have multiple IM accounts on multiple networks, I use Trillian to keep everything organized.  When I selected the wrong person, Trillian gave me a box asking me to select the IM account from which the message would be sent.  The “normal” account I used for that person was not in the list — meaning, that at some point, the person had actively blocked that particular account on the AOL network.

I was a bit astonished by this, as our last communication, in late July, was cordial.  I was sufficiently perturbed by this blocking that I clicked through most of my AOL contacts.  As far as I can tell, only one other person — a more recent acquaintance — had blocked me, but in neither case did I expect to be blocked at all. 

Of course, I am also aware that there are two or three people who have put me on permanent “invisible” status on Yahoo.  I, myself, have done this to a small number of people, usually to discourage a pattern of incessant or invasive messages.  But still.  Some of the invisible people are folks I know are there (Trillian’s funny that way!) but for reasons that have rarely been communicated with me, they simply hide themselves.

There’s something significant in this.  No, I don’t feel bad about what these people have done; those petty enough to block IM accounts without explanation aren’t the sort of people whose opinion I necessarily respect anyway.  Rather, this exercise in online blocking, coupled with the recent dramas and gossip, really highlights the us-versus-them mentality that encourages the demonization and depersonalization of those with whom we disagree.

We do this all the time.  I was speaking with a friend last weekend and he told me stories about a mutual acquaintance that, on reflection, were uniformly and unfairly negative.  A few days ago, a friend was telling me about a date that didn’t go well, and wouldn’t you know it — the date was described much like a child molester.  I’d lay money that my friend didn’t have that opinion before the date.  And don’t get me started on a series of e-mails with a friend about the presidential race.

It is sad that so few of us are willing to disagree with a person, or a person’s actions, while resisting the urge to demonize that person.  I wonder how the relatively impersonal nature of online communication contributes to this; when a person has absolute power to control the flow of debate (by, e.g., hitting the block button), what does this signify for our ability as a culture to engage in the truly hard work of trying to reconcile major differences?  How can we move forward in a respectful way that treats others as intrinsically worthy persons, when at the first sign of disagreement we completely and irrevocably disengage?

This sounds like a “theory of communications” question for Duane.

My dear friend [redacted] sent me a link to a wonderful essay by Jonathan Haidt, associate professor of psychology at the University of Virginia, titled, “What Makes People Vote Republican?”  The essay, published on Edge.org, includes a very thoughtful analysis of public voter identification, and is followed up with several briefer rejoinders by academics from a variety of disciplines.

Read the article, and the rebuttals — good stuff.

Sarah Palin.

YAY!  McCain has just redeemed himself in my eyes through his selection of the Alaska governor to be his running mate.

Palin is a “base Republican” in every sense of the term — a mother of five who worked her way from the PTA to the city council to a state appointment to governor.  She is the quintessential conservative power babe:  she loves God, hates abortion, hunts and fishes, fights government waste, believes in smaller and more responsive government, abhors corruption, and speaks truth to power.

McCain made a terrific pick, and in one day solidified his support among the conservative base, building on his recent outreach to evangelicals and his strong showing at the Saddleback forum.

My enthusiasm for this election just kicked into gear, and I’m celebrating with a donation to the McCain-Palin campaign.

Thus sayeth the Obamassiah:  Biden shall be thy vice president, lending gravitas to the hope for change that sweepeth the nation.

Or something like that.

Word was released this morning that Barack Obama has selected Delaware Sen. Joseph Biden as his running mate for this November’s presidential election. 

Biden is an interesting choice.  A thoughtful legislator, he is something of a doctrinaire liberal whose own presidential aspirations were stymied after he pilfered as his own a substantial chunk of text originating with a Canadian politician.  Biden has solid foreign-relations and defense credentials, and is a Democratic politician of substance.  In all, a good choice, although odd insofar as the pick, at first blush, appears to balance Obama’s experience deficit without adding much in terms of the Electoral College.  It’s as if the campaign were more worried about Obama’s personal issues instead of the strategic political issues of the campaign.

And perhaps this observation has some legs to it.

The thing about Obama that has soured me on his campaign is its utter vapidity:  He chants about hope and change, but his policies are devoid of substance and his principles are a throwback to 60s radicalism.  Obama represents nothing new, except that the Netroots have gotten their dream candidate, and his candidacy seems more like an exercise in personality over substance.  It’s even conceded by Democratic strategists that Obama’s campaign is self-referential and nanny-ish; not without cause do some fear that Obama really would demand, with the federal regulatory power, that people keep their car tires filled with approved amounts of air.  It just feels like the entire Obama phenomenon is an exercise in personality, with politics and policy as mere sideshow: Camelot II.

My impression of Obama is that he is utterly convinced of the moral rectitude of his policy proscriptions, and that such policies can be imposed by fiat on the rest of America.  It doesn’t help that the policies he supports seem rooted in the Great Society belief in the ameliorative power of hyper-energetic government.  His lack of real leadership experience, coupled with his grandiose plans for remaking America in his own image, suggest a painful four years if he’s elected.

I was not a big McCain fan this time around.  However, the gentleman from Arizona is growing on me, provided that he can avoid the temptation to screw his base out of spite.  McCain’s selection of a VP candidate will probably be the biggest strategic decision of his campaign; McCain needs a youngish leader and thoughtful conservative who is solid on immigration, taxes, and size-of-government issues.

Anyway, I’m watching.  And waiting.

A friend and I spent the evening last Saturday at a local bar.  As I was waiting (my friend was delayed a bit), I did a lot of people watching, and got really excited about the things I observed.  Yes, I know I’m a nerd.  Deal.  There’s a big difference between being in a big, crowded bar and being diverted by friends, and being there alone and observing everyone else.  Plus, I’m a writer.  This is useful primary research.

Anyway, the list of observations:

1. There were several large, dense and impenetrable groups of friends.  Not even T-Bone could have opened up some of those sets.
2. Many small groups (two or three people) proliferated — and they tended to cluster around the venue’s periphery.
3. The sexuality tended toward the extremes — either being downplayed, or being flaunted with reckless abandon.  Not too much “I’m sexy, but not a whore” mannerisms or apparel.
4. A lot of the loners either stood like statues, often with a drink, or with a face perpetually buried in a cell phone.  There were many loners.  It was sad.
5. There didn’t appear to be too much mingling among groups.  Several of the groups were porous with other groups, but in general it seemed that mixing was kept to a minimum.
6. There were a lot of young people present, and their inhibitions were lower and their desire for alcohol was higher.  Surprise, surprise.
7. Public displays of affection were surprisingly restrained and tasteful, despite the large number of males who eventually decided that shirts were optional.
8. This particular venue has five distinct areas:  (a) an upstairs bar with a seating area and an active karaoke station, and on the lower level, (b) a dance floor, (c) the bar and standing area associated with the dance floor, (d) a large seating area by a third bar, and (e) a set of pool tables near the bathrooms.  Each area seemed to have a “feel” that was different from the rest.  The karaoke area was relaxed and a bit older and quieter.  The dance floor was the most sexually charged.  The lower-level seating area was where most of the groups congregated.

Nothing earth-shattering, to be sure.  But still, an interesting study in group dynamics.  Sometimes, you can be somewhere and not really appreciate its human ebbs and flows until you step aside and simply watch.