through the anthroscope

do you yelp?

chronically check-in online everywhere you go?

are you the virtual mayor of a building you drove by?


this might be (for) you:



there's been a lot of humor clips like these going around recently.

i've lost count of how often this clip has shown up on my fb news feed:



while the overt intent of these videos is to amuse and entertain, there's a greater underlying message being conveyed.

as our virtual interactions have grown, so, too, have our perceptions of real world experiences and the ways in which we express and comment on these encounters.

these videos are a commentary on the conflicting transient and enduring aspects of online reviews: reviews are snapshots of a singular experience. often they are written and then forgotten. and yet, these stories remain available to the public and can influence future decisions.

food lends itself well to this commentary because food, in its own nature, is both lasting and ephemeral. 

we remember past meals, dishes loved and dishes detested. 

many life events can be recalled or related to what was consumed. (or, alternatively, what was not consumed.)

conversely, eating is an impermanent action: the actual action itself is short-lived and though basic bodily needs require regular consumption, the meals themselves are not necessarily remembered. 

from this, it seems possible to consider that the above clips (and the one below - you've kept reading so far, it only seems fair to give you another) are not just observations of the digital food dialogue, but they are also commentaries on food and remembrance.  

why do we remember certain food experiences and not others?

what inspires us to try (or not) new food experiences?

and, importantly, what compels us to share these experiences with others?


all of this is just me hypothesizing, though.

after all, i don't have a yelp or a chowhound or whatnot account (and i'm too lazy to get one), so all i can give you is an outsider's perspective.

oh, and there's still coffee in my cup.


and now, for listening to me ramble:




that's not really a reward, is it?

i'm sorry.