Want to succeed as a writer?
Well, first there’s this great article.
And second, some personal advice from me to you:
Never, never, never,
ever, ever, ever
not in a vajillion years
Don’t know what Klout is?
You lucky, lucky fucker.
Step away, then.
Nothing to see here.
Oh, but I get it: you’re one of those folks who sticks a hand behind the shower curtain, wanting to know how hot the water “really” is, even after somebody’s screamed, jumped out of the tub, slipped on the floor and broken his neck.
Yeah, me too.
So here’s the short version: Klout purports to be a site that measures and ranks your online “influence” via social media.
Here’s the long version: Klout is a soul-shredding H.G. Wellsian site-vampire that sucks up pornographically obscene amounts of your life while you increase the time you spend online in a desperate attempt to earn more points/free shit/greater self-esteem by racking up a higher “score” according to Klout’s Lennie-Small-inspired algorithm.
Don’t get me wrong. Klout has pretty buttons and whistles. (When they work.)
In fact, Klout is one glittery seventh grade bitch, doling out judgment and approval like only a Mean Girl/malignant narcissist can.
Sign into Klout and Klout gives you five points.
That’s right! Five points! Just for showing up. (It’s like being a Kardashian at a nightclub opening – only without the sulfur residue in the booth.) These points are called “K”s – y’know, initials, y’all, whutwhut — shorter, catchier, hip, right? – and you, in turn, can give these “K”s to your friends. That’s right: you wield the power. You decide who should be popular — righting all the injustices of your adolescence! After all, who deserves those “K”s for having your back in the Great Twitter Debate of 2012 (Instagram: Breakfast Pics v. Dinner Pics: Which Meal Looks More Retro)?
Klout seduces you with presents – giveaways of real fucking things that they send IRFuckingL mail! – called “Perks.” Free things! Sent to you for free! Which reminds me, right now I have ten packets of name-brand iced tea sitting in my cabinet, if you want them. I don’t drink tea – never have – but hey! Free fucking tea!
Klout also decorates you with “Achievements” (can you feel the pride, you pale and squishy indoor Hobbits? You have Achieved!), which are computer icons – icons, people, pixels – as prizes for your continued involvement in their site. Your heart swells like a party balloon – thin rubbery love on the outside, empty air on the inside.
But at its core, Klout manipulates people who need constant reassurance and validation (hello, Writers!), and it does so by providing an “objective” method – alas, clandestine and undisclosed by Klout (though that makes it sound more Illuminati than the banal truth: its “math” — and never have I air-quoted harder — is “intellectual” — okay, now I have — property) – that Klout’s clients can use to contextualize themselves online, enabling them to compare their own scores to both their heroes and their enemies.
Yes, it’s true.
People do have archenemies, and Klout has just risen to the top of my list. (Or sunk to the bottom? Frankly, I’m not sure I remember how Archenemies Lists work; I haven’t made one since middle school.) Anyway, in the spirit of seventh grade, from now on I will be shunning Klout in the lunchroom, laughing at its outfits, and not returning its calls or texts, all while showing them to my Real Friends and bitching histrionically about how pathetic Klout is – why can’t it just take a hint?
* * *
But why have I turned on Klout like this?
Because it owes me.
Klout owes me a shitload of time.
I’m Kloutta Here!: PART II
Why I Am Weak And Don’t Deserve Internet Privileges