his campaign slogan “Make America Great Again” is meant to be an act of reclamation, the execution leaves something to be desired. In fact, many of these ridiculous soundbites have become commodified into t-shirts, hats and other forms of apparel. When these words are converted into vehicles for corporate exploitation, the value of retaliating against Trump’s malicious words is essentially neutralized and lost. The same goes for Trump supporters trying to reclaim critiques of Trump; during the 2016 presidential race, Hillary Clinton’s comment about Trump supporters being a “basket of deplorables” was reclaimed as a positive label and a literal symbol of pride among Trump’s most loyal advocates. Today’s political memes operate as a frustrating paradox: In one sense, they capture the absurdity of the current administration and American politics as a whole, but simultaneously, they can normalize and enable problematic discourse, granting Trump and other like-minded bigots more exposure and attention. It’s an accessible, yet counterproductive and lazy tactic that only amplifies these dangerous platforms. Political memes may be uplifting as rallying cries at protests, and in some cases, their impact could enlighten and inspire people to get more involved in political discussions. But considering the wider effect modern-day political memes engender, they really do nothing but satisfy and reinforce the political self- interest of the person making the meme and the people they share it with. Despite the smugness underlying today’s political memes, they still have the potential to influence political conversation for the better. Vic Berger, a video editor for the now-defunct Super Deluxe and an outspoken critic of Trump, juxtaposes real-life interviews and mishaps made by Trump and other members of the GOP with uncomfortable zoom-ins on their faces and jarring sound effects (most notably the sound of an air horn). The result is surreal, strange, hilarious and sometimes harrowing. Instead of merely using Trump’s words against him, Berger brilliantly conveys that American politics is as farcical as it is terrifying. Other online users have capitalized on fabricating celebrity clickbait as a way to get people to vote, a strategy that, while certainly manipulative, deserves some recognition for its cleverness. If memes reflect and dictate the conversation surrounding trends in pop culture, political memes should find a way to do the same with the conversation surrounding trends in politics. And if political memes have the power to change the way we understand politics, then they should at least have the courtesy to communicate an incentive that’s both entertaining and compelling. In other words: meme responsibly. NEW MEDIA NOTEBOOK It’s no secret that social media is a volatile virtual battleground where both ends of the political spectrum clash and converge on hot-button topics. But amid the mucky mess of heated Twitter threads and essay-length Facebook posts, people seem to have found comfort and stability through arguably the greatest postmodern art form produced on the internet: memes. Like most general memes, a political meme can be a source of humor, a comedic avenue that connects and familiarizes us with political figures and social issues that, in a real- world context, aren’t nearly as engaging. They shape the way we understand those who govern our country, either by poking fun at their out-of-touch personalities or championing their ability to identify with the American public. The “meme-ing” of President Obama, in particular, was impactful in how the internet and American society at large perceived him during his time in office. The relatability of his cool, friendly demeanor translated well online, whether through his goofy facial expressions, his interactions with celebrities or his endearing bromance with former Vice President Joe Biden. His supporters would re-contextualize photos and videos of him as humorous and silly, while his critics would depict him in an offensive and oftentimes racist light. “Thanks Obama,” a common sarcastic critique meant to ridicule Obama’s mistakes, was reclaimed as a satirical, self- deprecating meme by liberals and even Obama himself. Former First Lady Michelle also garnered quite a bit of internet exposure. Originally used in a video promoting healthy eating, Michelle’s anecdote about her favorite fall vegetable (a sweet potato) and her quip about turnips (“Turnip for What”) quickly circulated on Vine and across the Web. Even after Barack’s second term ended, he and Michelle remain internet icons; their laid-back post- presidency vacation photos and lavish presidential portraits provoked a series of memes on Twitter, many of which praised the couple for relishing their time away from the chaos of the White House. While political memes like these can be innocuous, they also have the capacity to be simplistic, ruthless and even sinister. In the age of Trump especially, they’ve become weaponized by liberals and conservatives alike to combat one another online, manifesting in the form of tongue-in-cheek and trenchant jabs at Democrats and Republicans, senators and political commentators and, perhaps most of all, the President himself. Because of his political incompetence, frequent factual blunders and general ineptitude at being a normal human person, Trump is an easy target for a lot of negative memes that, though amusing at face value, aren’t very effective long-term takedowns. While meme-ing Trumpian buzzwords like “nasty woman,” “bad hombre,” “covfefe” and WIKIMEDIA COMMONS Red, white & meme: When politics & Twitter meet SAM ROSENBERG Senior Arts Editor KNOWYOURMEME —Verity Sturm, Daily Arts Writer To me, the best part of the installation was watching people’s feet. It’s rare to see crowds of people collectively handling things gently, but if you looked at the ground at the spaces in between the books, you’d see a lot of fully grown adults carefully making their way through the dark street on their tiptoes. Nobody wanted to damage the books, and if anybody stepped on one accidentally, they would almost instinctively jump back. One guy was tripping over himself, trying to run through the crowd while shouting, “WE WON’T HURT THE BOOKS, WE WON’T HURT THE BOOKS.” Everybody around him instantly cleared a path — a collective agreement that books are at least a little bit precious, and we all want to protect precious things. — Asif Becher, Daily Books Editor It’s quarter to 8:00, I’m walking home from The Daily newsroom and about five minutes in I’m very perplexed by the mass of people surrounding the intersection of State and Liberty. Ann Arbor streets only ever get this crowded for big sports victories, but the patient huddle gathered in front of me was quite the polar opposite of a revelrous, drunken mass. I had seen the metric ton of tomes coming back from class earlier in the day, but I thought it was nothing more than a 24-hour art installation — and despite the sheer volume of books on the street, my lasting reaction was “cool.” Yet it just happened that I stumbled into the main event of “Literature vs. Traffic” like I do most good things in my life: accidentally. Albeit what I think is a silly name (if you actually want to pit the two entities against each other then remove the barricades, you cowards) I slyly sauntered my way into the magic of the moment. I heard around me that once the clock struck 8:00 any book on the pavement was ripe for the picking. My phone read 7:50 but I think the fact kids were allowed to peruse the literary lot early made onlookers a little jumpy, so I dove in when there was enough people in the middle for me to go unnoticed. My first intention was to find “great books” that I had long missed out on and finally get an excuse to read them, but when the first cover I flipped over was “Heart of Darkness” I realized I wasn’t doing this right. Instead I trounced around looking for the most unwieldy shapes and bizarre illustrations. In a sentence I hope has never been written before, a giddy smile was brought to my face when the cover of a book I picked up read “L. Ron Hubbard: Scientology and the Fundamentals of Thought.” My coffee table is all the weirder now with pickups like “Decorative Victorian Needlework” and a Matlab textbook entirely in Chinese. Street books, thank you for being surreal, mysterious and a reminder of why we love to read in the first place. — Robert Mansuetti, Daily Arts Writer BOOKS EVENT This Tuesday Oct. 23, a public art project by the University’s Institute for Humanities called “Literature vs. Traffic” was installed on Liberty St. Over 10,000 books covered the street all day, and pedestrians were invited to walk through the books and pick from them at night. Among the thousands of Ann Arbor residents who experienced the display were three Daily Book Review writers. These are their stories: I went to the “Literature vs. Traffic” installment twice on Tuesday, once in the daylight and once after dark. In the daylight, the books looked like a scene straight from that Russian avant-garde film “The Color of Pomegranates” (you should talk to Emily Yang about it), their sun-dappled pages rustling ever so slightly in the breeze, giving the entire installment a sense of gentle motion — reliable aliveness, like that of an ocean. My daylight visit was before they opened the gates to the rabid bibliophiles, but let me tell you that didn’t stop them. I witnessed an elderly woman hop the fence and tiptoe out into the sea of novels and pick up one in particular that caught her eye. On the other side of the installment, one of the volunteers noticed and yelled “HEY, HEY, DON’T DO THAT YET! PUT DOWN THAT BOOK!” Pure comedy, heightened by the imagery of the fence around all the books, not unlike the fence penning in the little concrete stack of books statue outside the Clements library, which always just licked my funny bone. Isn’t it massively hypocritical to erect fences around our books, even the representative ones? I stole away from my job for 20 minutes at night to revisit the installment, my interest piqued from all the weird books students were bringing to the Perlman Honors Commons. On my power walk over, I witnessed student after student carrying veritable armfuls of weird, old, LED- illuminated titles, something I doubt I’ll ever see again. The eavesdropping was prime: “Where is everyone getting all these books? The local bookstore?” “No, they’re in the street.” In the thick of the installment, pawing through these strange, picked-over tomes, I felt the weird sort of urgency one experiences in a crowded store: the need to examine all the items, to find the one you want before someone else does. It’s a slimy feeling. At least in this case, it was cut a little by a collective mirth at the bizarre selection. The guy next to me pondered aloud who would need a volume of homeopathic remedies for maternity pains, and the woman ahead chuckled at a guide to DIY RV maintenance. I left with an ancient copy of W. Somerset Maugham’s “Cakes and Ale” that I had once seen on a postcard, and “Charles Schwab’s Guide to Financial Independence” in Chinese because I’m not sure when I’m ever going to encounter that again. EMMA RICHTER / DAILY 10,000 books light up Liberty St. on Tuesday night DAILY BOOKS Daily Arts Writers Among the thousands of Ann Arbor residents who experienced the display were three Daily Book Review writers. These are their stories Despite the smugness underlying today’s political memes, they still have the potential to influence political conversation for the better 6B — Thursday, October 25, 2018 Arts The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com