I realized today, all of a sudden, that I am tired of irony.
I was surprised by the thought. Something someone said, on some radio show I was listening to, jarred me. It was some cast off comment about someone doing a corny thing, an embarrassing thing; only without being ironic about it.
And suddenly I realized how tired I am of irony, which might be the most common fragrance in the postmodern air I breathe so often.
And smarter people, who have thought more deeply about this than I ever will, could say more. But it seems to me that the opposite of Irony is authenticity. Irony seems to commodify authenticity, and turn it into the exact opposite of itself. It takes that which is genuine and without guile, and destroys it.
Irony makes a joke of innocence; that which is sentimental in the best sense is dismissed and disregarded–and by extension, those who are associated with this endearing thing, whatever it might be–some store, some phrase, some hope, some aspect of our lives–they are disregarded, too. They are made fools, outsiders, because they value something for what it is, not for it’s use as currency in some social game of dismissive one-up-manship, whereby individuals’ worth is measured in how easily they can belittle the other–who always remains an “other,” and never a “mine.”
Irony decontextualizes things. It takes the original noun–whether it’s some brand, some lifestyle choice–a habit in dress or speech, or the like–and it makes the context of the noun the arena of self-promotion. What is most important is my ability to use this thing in an ironic way that is appreciated by those appreciating ironic use, such that i earn their their positive esteem, and am promoted.
It’s interesting, then, that the ironic t-shirt (“Al’s Bait Shop”) has been commodified and is now produced in some form by every clothier that exists. This has the effect of a) raising the bar as to what creates true irony, b) an actual original diner t-shirt or the like becomes valuable as an archetype, rather than as an instrument of irony, and c) turns “being ironic” into a universalized standard, so that individuals who value the social esteem of others have to write blog posts about how they’re “post-ironic,” or something equally terrible.
So: I’m tired of irony. I just want some authentic people around me, who do love Titanic, wear Vans because they never stopped, and are genuine in their likes & dislikes, unaware of the relative value parts of society place on their choices.
Basically, I’m longing for people out of touch, and wish I could be, too. What’s the point of being in touch, when “touch” is bought & sold, packaged & purchased, and the merits of being in touch are self-referential, earning positive regard only within the circles that care about dismissing such things.
But there are a lot of circles in the world; there are a lot of people. And many of them do, I think, live genuinely, authentically. Maybe. I hope so.