What Bozo the Clown Taught Me About Social Media

I grew up watching Bozo the Clown on WGN. You know the one: Red rubber nose, giant shoes, wicked bowl of red hair. Cooky the Cook. Whizzo. Cuddley Duddley. The whole gang. I loved it.

There was one particular memory I have of watching the show. In between the Grand Prize Game and a “Rocky & Bullwinkle” cartoon, they had a plate-spinner perform.

You know the type. Plates, sticks, spinning. Keep it all going, friend. (Of course, the joy in watching a plate-spinner was knowing that, eventually, all that fine china was going to break. Loudly.)

One, two, three, four, five. Then 10, then 12 plates. All spinning at the same time!

I remember feeling stressed out just watching him. All those plates, up in the air. Waiting to fall down and crash to the floor at any second.

It was exhausting, really. One man, trying to do so much, so quickly. And for what?

CRASH.

It was bound to happen. And it did. All those plates came tumbling to the floor, busting into a million pieces. The plate-spinner did all that work for nothing. Or close to nothing. Maybe a few moments of joy and then…it was all over.

(There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.)

Plate-Spinning and Klout…There’s a Connection Somewhere!

But when you sit back and think about it, isn’t this how some of us approach social media?

We sign up for the latest fad network. We try to pump up our Klout score by sending as many @-replies as we can. We push our own content, endlessly.

We reply to all the comments on our blog, not because we want to interact with our community, but because we want it to look like lots of people are talking.

We shoot hours of video, not because we want to capture a particular moment, but because we want the next viral phenomenon on YouTube.

We add noise instead of value.

Spinning plates…spinning plates…spinning plates.

Eventually, it has to come crashing down. Maybe not all at once, but plate-by-plate, the labor of keeping things going will wear down our resolve. Pretty soon, we’re left with the rubble of a thousand shattered social media plates.

Watch out. Those edges are sharp.

So here’s what I suggest. It’s a bit of a departure from what you may already be doing. You ready? Here it is:

LET THE PLATES DROP.

All of them. Right onto the floor (figuratively speaking, of course). Give yourself a break and get a new strategy.

What Professional Wrestling Taught Me About Being Real

I once read the autobiography of former WWE star, Mick Foley. Kind of weird, I know, but I went through a phase in high school. So sue me.

In the book, Mick addressed some of the commonly asked questions he gets as a pro wrestler. One of them is, of course, “Is wrestling fake?”

He goes on to tell the story of when he first stepped into the ring with hardcore wrestling legend, Terry Funk.

“Do you know how Terry made his punches look believable?” he asked. The answer may surprise you. Mick wrote, “Terry made them believable because he would wind back and hit you in the face as hard as he possibly could.”

It looked real because it was real.

I suggest we do the same with social media.

If we interact with people on Twitter, I suggest that we do so with the same intention as if that person was right across from us.

If we reply to a comment on a post we wrote, or comment on someone else’s blog, I suggest that it’s genuine. That you really mean it. In other words, you’re not replying just to spike your comment count or because you think it will land you a guest post.

If you like, +1, share, post, tweet, or otherwise tumbl a piece of content, you do so because you find value in it. Not because you think it will land you on Mashable.

Let the plates fall. Let the punches land. And for God’s sake, smile like you mean it. The social Web needs more genuine people. Why can’t it start with us?