https://tv.avclub.com/antonio-brown-exposes-the-asshole-glitch-in-our-other-1837991611
Antonio Brown exposes the “asshole glitch” in our otherwise perfect information society
Antonio Brown is a person who catches a football. He does not put the ball in the air—another man does that. But among athletes who can catch a football after another man has put it in the air, Antonio Brown is one of the best at doing that. It’s only natural, then, that our modern information society pays close attention to his comings and goings.
Antonio Brown is also an asshole. He once threatened to retire because he couldn’t find a helmet he liked. He missed training camp because a cryotherapy machine burned off the soles of his feet. He put a private phone call with his head coach on YouTube. And all that was only this summer.
Here you have a gentleman who can catch a football and is an asshole to boot—a figure bound to make the information society hot under the collar. “Homina, homina,” it says. (The information society is Jackie Gleason.) As his transgressions mounted, all of a sudden, every tweet, every Instagram post, every cable news clip—every tweet of a cable news clip featuring an Instagrammed screenshot of a tweet—was about Antonio Brown.
Even in 2019, it is possible to be surprised by the extent to which our technology, media, and culture are hard-wired to make us look at assholes. They are wired to do other things, too, some of them wonderful. At a deep level, though, the code is optimized for assholes. Consider the headlines we scan, the updates we scroll through—so many of them boil down to “look at this asshole.” The headline of this column, for instance.
Assholes are inevitable. We like to look at them because for a moment, they can make our own character flaws seem like mere foibles. “I may have committed insurance fraud today, but at least I didn’t burn the bottom of my feet in a fancy freezer!” That kind of thing—harmless. Furthermore, we are obligated, as citizens, to keep tabs on some assholes because they are powerful, or prominent.
Therein lies the rub. The glitch in the system. As the tendrils of the information society swelled, as the “attention economy” became a thing, it also became possible for certain assholes to grow so big that they form a sort of informational gravity well. We pay attention because they’re big, our attention makes them grow, and we fail to look away until we can’t look away. Antonio Brown is one such instance of this glitch. He has passed the asshole event horizon.
You have seen it happen before in a less important context than the NFL: the leadership of the free world. As an asshole consumed our national media in the mid-2010s, many observers thought to ask, “Why are we looking at this asshole?” The keepers of the information society had an answer at every turn. First, “It’s just a sideshow, it doesn’t matter if we cover it.” Then, “People are paying attention to this guy, so we should cover him.” Or, if you were a Silicon Valley type, “The algorithm said so.”
The information society will always find a way to look at the asshole.
Before long the asshole was a contender, a nominee, a president. We are compelled to look. Will we ever be allowed to stop? To find out, stay tuned, forever.
Brown has plunged the football world into the same attention trap. After an escalating series of tantrums, Brown was released last week by his new team, the Oakland Raiders. (They had acquired the rights to his services after Brown pissed off his previous team, the Pittsburgh Steelers.) Minutes later, Brown signed with the New England Patriots. This development was inexorable, for it was the best way to ensure further attention for the asshole in question. The Patriots are a perennial media phenomenon, a team whose drama is reliably amplified for consumption on the national stage.
Why? Well, America simply loves the New England Patriots that much. Whether it’s huggable coach Bill Belichick or relatable everyman quarterback Tom Brady, your average Joe and Jane Lunchsack can’t get enough of these guys. This year, after the Pats won a pulse-poundingly low-scoring Super Bowl LIII (“Battle Of The Punters”), New England hoisted its sixth Lombardi Trophy, and a nation of well-wishers raised their glasses to cheer, “Here’s to six more!”
Into this joyous scene enters the villain Antonio Brown. His transfer to Foxborough raises the unthinkable question: Is it possible for America to hate the New England Patriots?
Okay, okay, I’ll stop. This is the actual question: Is it possible for America to hate the New England Patriots more than it already does? But before anyone had a chance to form an answer, the Brown frenzy took another exhausting turn. Brown now stands accused, in a civil lawsuit, of sexually assaulting a woman who used to train him. The glitch is proceeding right on schedule. This is the stage of asshole metastasis in which the asshole forces us to take sides.
Very few people would take Antonio Brown’s side at this juncture. But there will be some, primarily in New England (for the moment), and that is enough. The relative proportion of the tribes is not important. The asshole only needs the tribal lines to form—needs us to define ourselves in terms of what we think about the asshole, such that it feels morally wrong to avert our gaze.
I’m a Patriots fan. (Aren’t we all Patriots fans on some level? No? Not at all? You’re throwing rotten vegetables at me? I withdraw the motion.) I am desperate for Brown to disappear. I do not want to read the asshole’s Instagram posts. I do not want to hear sports-TV troglodytes use the asshole to relitigate the politics of sexual consent. I do not even want to see the asshole catch touchdowns from universally beloved quarterback Tom Brady.
Nonetheless, I’m caught in the trap like any other fan. I couldn’t bring myself to put a picture of Brown at the top of the column, so I didn’t, but after that minor act of resistance, I did spend a thousand words talking about him. The sheer scale of the asshole made me feel obligated to do so. Yet now, by the same token, I feel obliged to stop.
Antonio Brown exposes the “asshole glitch” in our otherwise perfect information society
Antonio Brown is a person who catches a football. He does not put the ball in the air—another man does that. But among athletes who can catch a football after another man has put it in the air, Antonio Brown is one of the best at doing that. It’s only natural, then, that our modern information society pays close attention to his comings and goings.
Antonio Brown is also an asshole. He once threatened to retire because he couldn’t find a helmet he liked. He missed training camp because a cryotherapy machine burned off the soles of his feet. He put a private phone call with his head coach on YouTube. And all that was only this summer.
Here you have a gentleman who can catch a football and is an asshole to boot—a figure bound to make the information society hot under the collar. “Homina, homina,” it says. (The information society is Jackie Gleason.) As his transgressions mounted, all of a sudden, every tweet, every Instagram post, every cable news clip—every tweet of a cable news clip featuring an Instagrammed screenshot of a tweet—was about Antonio Brown.
Even in 2019, it is possible to be surprised by the extent to which our technology, media, and culture are hard-wired to make us look at assholes. They are wired to do other things, too, some of them wonderful. At a deep level, though, the code is optimized for assholes. Consider the headlines we scan, the updates we scroll through—so many of them boil down to “look at this asshole.” The headline of this column, for instance.
Assholes are inevitable. We like to look at them because for a moment, they can make our own character flaws seem like mere foibles. “I may have committed insurance fraud today, but at least I didn’t burn the bottom of my feet in a fancy freezer!” That kind of thing—harmless. Furthermore, we are obligated, as citizens, to keep tabs on some assholes because they are powerful, or prominent.
Therein lies the rub. The glitch in the system. As the tendrils of the information society swelled, as the “attention economy” became a thing, it also became possible for certain assholes to grow so big that they form a sort of informational gravity well. We pay attention because they’re big, our attention makes them grow, and we fail to look away until we can’t look away. Antonio Brown is one such instance of this glitch. He has passed the asshole event horizon.
You have seen it happen before in a less important context than the NFL: the leadership of the free world. As an asshole consumed our national media in the mid-2010s, many observers thought to ask, “Why are we looking at this asshole?” The keepers of the information society had an answer at every turn. First, “It’s just a sideshow, it doesn’t matter if we cover it.” Then, “People are paying attention to this guy, so we should cover him.” Or, if you were a Silicon Valley type, “The algorithm said so.”
The information society will always find a way to look at the asshole.
Before long the asshole was a contender, a nominee, a president. We are compelled to look. Will we ever be allowed to stop? To find out, stay tuned, forever.
Brown has plunged the football world into the same attention trap. After an escalating series of tantrums, Brown was released last week by his new team, the Oakland Raiders. (They had acquired the rights to his services after Brown pissed off his previous team, the Pittsburgh Steelers.) Minutes later, Brown signed with the New England Patriots. This development was inexorable, for it was the best way to ensure further attention for the asshole in question. The Patriots are a perennial media phenomenon, a team whose drama is reliably amplified for consumption on the national stage.
Why? Well, America simply loves the New England Patriots that much. Whether it’s huggable coach Bill Belichick or relatable everyman quarterback Tom Brady, your average Joe and Jane Lunchsack can’t get enough of these guys. This year, after the Pats won a pulse-poundingly low-scoring Super Bowl LIII (“Battle Of The Punters”), New England hoisted its sixth Lombardi Trophy, and a nation of well-wishers raised their glasses to cheer, “Here’s to six more!”
Into this joyous scene enters the villain Antonio Brown. His transfer to Foxborough raises the unthinkable question: Is it possible for America to hate the New England Patriots?
Okay, okay, I’ll stop. This is the actual question: Is it possible for America to hate the New England Patriots more than it already does? But before anyone had a chance to form an answer, the Brown frenzy took another exhausting turn. Brown now stands accused, in a civil lawsuit, of sexually assaulting a woman who used to train him. The glitch is proceeding right on schedule. This is the stage of asshole metastasis in which the asshole forces us to take sides.
Very few people would take Antonio Brown’s side at this juncture. But there will be some, primarily in New England (for the moment), and that is enough. The relative proportion of the tribes is not important. The asshole only needs the tribal lines to form—needs us to define ourselves in terms of what we think about the asshole, such that it feels morally wrong to avert our gaze.
I’m a Patriots fan. (Aren’t we all Patriots fans on some level? No? Not at all? You’re throwing rotten vegetables at me? I withdraw the motion.) I am desperate for Brown to disappear. I do not want to read the asshole’s Instagram posts. I do not want to hear sports-TV troglodytes use the asshole to relitigate the politics of sexual consent. I do not even want to see the asshole catch touchdowns from universally beloved quarterback Tom Brady.
Nonetheless, I’m caught in the trap like any other fan. I couldn’t bring myself to put a picture of Brown at the top of the column, so I didn’t, but after that minor act of resistance, I did spend a thousand words talking about him. The sheer scale of the asshole made me feel obligated to do so. Yet now, by the same token, I feel obliged to stop.
