Right hand to God, I think 60%* of my Facebook feed is terrible clickbait.
I get it, I really do. Somehow you have to break the flow of constant images and information competing for attention and make someone click on your article. A really easy way to do that is to have a cliffhanger-like title. It’s so common that there are literally websites, subreddits, Facebook pages, and twitter accounts designed to go through the article so you don’t have to.
My favorite articles are ones that pair the “what happens next!” title with an unrelated image. Though, let’s be honest – it’s rarely an article. It’s usually 26 semi-related slides that all require different pages to be loaded. Gotta maximize that ad revenue, son!
The articles’ contents are really just appealing to the lowest common denominator – unabashed and morbid curiosity. I say this with at least four clickbait-y gadget reviews in my reading list. There is no condemnation from me for clicking on one of these articles. Seriously; cliffhangers have a long and storied (sorry) past of hooking a crowd in to obtain interest and engage them. Clickbait titles are just very tiny cliffhangers. It’s what you lean over your desk to discuss with your coworker instead of dealing with Cheryl from accounting. The end of last night’s popular sitcom; the articles with titles proclaiming “x celebrity did this action and you can too!”
I’m not saying anything new, but I would like to propose alternate clickbait. Title your photos with “My baby did this, and I can hardly believe it” and put their (normal) action in the caption. Like, we all know your baby has smiled – it’s gas, by the way, it’s always gas – but spice up the presentation. Maybe your baby’s month-by-month photos with the stickers could be something like “My baby is the size of a vegetable, and I can’t believe it!” It’s a pumpkin.
If our lives are going to be slowly consumed by clickbait, let’s embrace it, and make it our own.
Oh, if you were curious about the laundry situation, I’m still resolving it. The bottom drawer of my bureau has broken (the front panel has come off) and I’m whining and moaning about whether to repair it or purchase a new dresser. While normally I’d have just fixed it by now, the drawer is an amalgam of tiny nails, dovetail joinery, and a little bit of glue – I’m not even sure where to start. The whole bureau is a masterpiece of 80’s construction and style. Purchased for the grand total of “I found it on the side of the road,” it’s been a faithful companion, but I might just have to take it out back and put ‘er down.
Sent From My iPhone
*The other 40% of my Facebook feed consists of about 10% personal posts – life stuff, kids, event photos – and 30% cat and dog photos. I have no regrets.