A couple of totally unrelated messages arrived over the weekend, courtesy of the internet.
But maybe they’re related, after all?
And maybe they’re related, in a roundabout way, to life in a small, tourism-driven town in the middle of nowhere?
One of the messages directed me to EndTaxCutsForWealthy.com. When I clicked the link, the following political ad appeared on my screen…
“ATTENTION LAWMAKERS: When you ignore the needs of working-class people and give tax cuts to the rich… This is what happens to your approval rating.”
The ad included a clickable button that said, “Post on X”.
When I clicked the link (purely for research purposes, of course) a new page opened on ‘X’ with a draft message awaiting my approval.
With another simple click, I could post this message addressed to our current Congressional leadership — Senator Chuck Schumer, Representative Mike Johnson and Representative Hakeem Jeffries — without necessarily taking any time to thoughtfully consider the dispatch someone else (or some AI program) had written on my behalf.
I assume — without any real evidence — that Schumer, Johnson, and Jeffries would simply ignore such a social media post coming from a small-town news editor in southern Colorado. I understand that getting elected to Congress is an expensive proposition, and that a candidate needs massive financial support for their election campaign. That massive financial support is unlikely to come from working-class families, regardless of their needs.
More likely, the monetary campaign contributions will come from the ultra-wealthy.
(Curiously enough, the draft post appeared on the same page as a March 8 post by Elon Musk, who happens to be one of the ultra-wealthy deeply involved in our political system.)
I also assume — without any real evidence — that working-class families are not paying much attention to the amount of tax cuts provided to the ultra-wealthy. If my own working-class family is a suitable example, working-class people in Pagosa Springs are more concerned with the rising cost of just about everything — food, insurance, housing, propane, electricity — than with corporate tax rates.
The other message that arrived over the weekend had nothing much to do with corporate tax rates. Except maybe indirectly.
An article on Slate.com had the headline, “How Do I Convince My Daughter That There Are More Careers Than ‘Online Influencer’?”
‘Care and Feeding’ is Slate’s parenting advice column, addressing questions about kids, parents, or family life. This particular column was written by Dan Kois, answering a letter from ‘Worried Mom in Montana’.
‘Worried Mom’ wrote, in part:
Dear Care and Feeding,
How do you talk to your kids about how social media isn’t a measure of their worth? I am a single mother to two daughters, “Carina” (19), and “Kylie” (23). When the girls were younger, I limited their access to social media. However, Kylie has always had a passion for social media, and the summer after she graduated from high school, she began a lifestyle/vlogging YouTube channel that quickly amassed hundreds of followers. Now, she is a fairly popular influencer making good money across several platforms.
This inspired Carina, who believed that anyone could make a livable wage off social media if they put in enough work. She too began a YouTube channel after she turned 18, and I’m now worried that she may have become too obsessed with gaining followers and likes…
The letter goes on:
I’m genuinely alarmed at the downturn that her mental well-being has taken, and I’ve tried to talk to her about how her worth isn’t tied to what people 1,000 miles away think of her internet persona…
Apparently, Kylie and Carina are still living at home, and Worried Mom writes that she could change the WiFi password and deny Carina access to the internet… but “I’m worried that forcing her hand might push her away and limit my ability to help her. On the other hand, I know I’m not being very useful right now! I’m scared for my daughter and I could really use some advice.”
I can personally understand the attraction of posting daily thoughts and experiences on the internet, since that’s my current job — although I don’t believe I qualify as what is now called “an influencer”. As I understand the term, an online influencer gets paid a stipend by one or more corporations, in exchange for promoting the corporation’s products and services to the influencer’s numerous social media followers.
I further understand that the path to becoming an influencer can easily bypass the need for a college degree or a union apprenticeship, or any type of specific training whatsoever, other than what can be gleaned from spending endless hours on social media.
The impetus for this kind of self-employment seems to be, on the corporate side of the equation, the understanding that young people in America do not read newspapers or magazines, nor do they watch TV or listen to the radio, but they do spend much of their life following and ‘liking’ personalities on social media. So any corporation wanting to reach young people — perhaps, young people who are also consumers — will naturally consider the use of ‘influencers’ as their snake oil salesmen. (And saleswomen. I have the sense that most influencers are women.)
According to BusinessWire, 61% percent of consumers trust recommendations from family members, friends or influencers on social channels, while only 38% trust recommendations coming directly from corporations.
This is the technological version of the door-to-door salesman who personally visited your home, back in the 1950s, to convince you to purchase an amazing new vacuum cleaner.
In 2016, the influencer marketing industry was worth $1.7 billion, according to a survey by Influencer Marketing Hub. By the end of 2024, it’s projected to reach $24 billion.
26% of respondents in that survey intended to spend more than 40% of their 2024 marketing budget on influencer marketing.
So, what does this societal trend have to do with tax-breaks for the ultra-rich…
…and with working-class families… say, in Pagosa Springs?