PARA/SOCIAL
KYLIE AYN YOCKEY
[New YouTube Notification! MacKinsey Allé has posted a new video: “MY NEW HOUSE IS HAUNTED?! 2MIL SUBSCRIBERS 2HR SPECIAL!!1!”]
A thumbnail of MacKinsey screaming in probably-fake terror, blush-contoured cheeks stretched in pornographic exaggeration. Her heavy lip injections help perfect pink the ‘o’ of her mouth. The ghost emoji hovers just above her line of sight. This is her third video centered around her new L.A. McMansion. The first was a standard house tour with housewarming party montage where every influencer and F-list celebrity was unmasked and dubiously vaccinated. The second had been an exploration with her scaredy-cat social media assistant into the secret prepper-bunker that she discovered runs underneath the house.
My thumbprint hovers over the play button while I check the time--I have a metrics report due at 1pm that I haven’t started yet. Swiping up, I quickly email my boss that I’ll be working hybridly today after all, as I feel unwell and don’t want to risk being immunocompromised in the office environment, and that the report is attached for their review. I make sure to delete the “Sent via iOS” blurb and attach nothing, then set my Slack status to “Invisible.”
Speeding home, I’m barely through the apartment door before turning on the television with my phone and opening MacKinsey’s video. “Wassup, kins and kids! Welcome back to my channel. We’ve officially hit two-million subscribers! Can you believe?!”
During the first watch, I just sit, engrossed. During the second watch through, I take notes with my favorite glitter gel pen that has ink the exact color of Mac’s ringlit eyes. I tally which spooks worked--the lights switching on and off got a good reaction, so did hacking the SmartHouse applications to mess with the appliances throughout the night--and which seemed more useless to the video. Two hours of edited content is a lot, so I’m not surprised that some of my several-hours-worth of effort didn’t make the cut. If Mac’s to reach another million subscribers by the end of the year, I’ll have to hone and amp up the drama much faster.
[New YouTube Notification! MacKinsey Allé has posted a new video: “THE HOUSE GHOSTS HATE MY BOYFRIEND?! SMUDGING IS A SCAM!!1!”]
The thumbnail shows the bare back of MacKinsey’s TikTok-famous boyfriend-of-the- month, covered in violent red scratches and surrounded by smirking-devil emojis. He’s overlaying a photo of the Allé McMansion foyer where a thin white hippie chick holds a smoking bundle of sage with her face partially blurred. Perspiration starts to fog the inside of my $79 “MacKinnie” sweatshirt I purchased from Mac’s merch site last month as my fingernail taps the video link open. Those red claw marks look awfully like love-scratches.
I thumbs-up the video before it’s even two seconds in, like always, and then profess my adoration in the comments when it ends. Upon scrolling, the video has overwhelmingly critical responses. I “dislike” every single negative one. Opening Snapchat to see Mac’s ever-punctual post-upload Story, I find mascara running down her face.
“I’m being fucking cancelled. People are saying I appropriated and, like, totally misunderstood the practice of smudging? I just don’t understand why I’m being attacked like this. Fuck, what? Now I’m also getting hate for the thumbnail? I swear it’s not click-bait, OMG,” MacKinsey sobs, drawing out the last “G” in a long whine.
This won’t do at all. Yes, all attention is good attention in show biz, but I cannot let Mac get cancelled. Not with how much I’ve done for her, for her career. Did I go too far on the boyfriend? Should I have just covered him with goo or pig’s blood instead? Blocking his access to the domestic tech--locking the fridge whenever he tried to open it, turning off the TV and music when he used them, locking him out of the house--went over well with the audience. Actually, it was the only part of the video trending positively so far.
I mean, I couldn’t have predicted the smudging debacle. I of course knew Mac’s into crystals and astrology and stuff, but... no, yes, I should’ve known better. I should’ve known Mac better. If I’d only gotten into Mac’s iCalendar sooner, then I could’ve seen and deleted the tasteless appointment and that dreadheaded woman’s contact information completely. I’ve let Mac down. Let the fans down. Let the brand down. Beads of sweat sizzle down my spine and my phone starts to shake in my hand.
I thumbs-up the video before it’s even two seconds in, like always, and then profess my adoration in the comments when it ends. Upon scrolling, the video has overwhelmingly critical responses. I “dislike” every single negative one. Opening Snapchat to see Mac’s ever-punctual post-upload Story, I find mascara running down her face.
“I’m being fucking cancelled. People are saying I appropriated and, like, totally misunderstood the practice of smudging? I just don’t understand why I’m being attacked like this. Fuck, what? Now I’m also getting hate for the thumbnail? I swear it’s not click-bait, OMG,” MacKinsey sobs, drawing out the last “G” in a long whine.
This won’t do at all. Yes, all attention is good attention in show biz, but I cannot let Mac get cancelled. Not with how much I’ve done for her, for her career. Did I go too far on the boyfriend? Should I have just covered him with goo or pig’s blood instead? Blocking his access to the domestic tech--locking the fridge whenever he tried to open it, turning off the TV and music when he used them, locking him out of the house--went over well with the audience. Actually, it was the only part of the video trending positively so far.
I mean, I couldn’t have predicted the smudging debacle. I of course knew Mac’s into crystals and astrology and stuff, but... no, yes, I should’ve known better. I should’ve known Mac better. If I’d only gotten into Mac’s iCalendar sooner, then I could’ve seen and deleted the tasteless appointment and that dreadheaded woman’s contact information completely. I’ve let Mac down. Let the fans down. Let the brand down. Beads of sweat sizzle down my spine and my phone starts to shake in my hand.
[New YouTube Notification! MacKinsey Allé has posted a new video: “I have a stalker. (Moving Update)”]
I barely peek at the simple thumbnail of MacKinsey sitting on the floor of her cleared-out living room looking severe. Up and down my eyes dart, from the phone screen to my car’s windshield and back and again. It’s so much harder to enjoy Mac’s videos, her soothing Valley accent, when I can’t properly envision her life behind the scenes, whether she’s healthy and safe and happy when the camera’s off. Mac’s new realtor takes client security much more seriously, which is really an improvement. The last one should’ve never been so braggadocious with celebrity addresses.
A flash of bright yellow hair steals my gaze up through the window again. Mac doesn’t look particularly happy, but healthy and safe are good enough for now. Moving is always a stressful endeavor, of course, and she’d been expecting What’s-His-Face to come help load her wealth of boxes. It takes everything in me not to jump into the street and start helping herself, but I know that’s not my role. Not yet. I have to stay behind the scenes until Mac invites me into the MK-Ultimate Squad herself.
Some of the existing Squad run in and out of the mansion in a flurry of laughter and the vlogging camera changing hand to hand. Mac is the only one clearly not having a good time; she keeps glancing around nervously, adjusting the gray trucker cap that does nothing to disguise her. The MacKinsey in the video isn’t smiling either. My fingers twitch impotently, wanting to swipe away the frown on both Mac’s faces. Once I learn where the new “MacMansion” is, I can set to work on turning that frown upside down. Hell, I’d be more considerate and productive than these clowns Mac keeps around currently.
The moving truck finally shutters its trailer and the Squad piles into their luxury cars, just in time for Mac’s video to end. I quickly pull up the Zach Sang Show podcast released in tandem with the video, then pulls out a couple cars behind the moving truck. Zach and MacKinsey joke around a bit before getting into the meat of the interview and how the internet brought the stalker to her attention in the first place. Conspiracy channels put it together after deep-diving into how Mac’s smart technology works and cataloging gigabytes of clues from Reddit threads and Discord chats. Threads and chats flagging a dozen of my burner accounts. My breath starts to race.
At a red light, I pause the show and open all my social medias. Twitter is already abuzz with mixed feelings about MacKinsey having a stalker. Ugly people who cancelled her after the last video say she deserves it, rational people say no one deserves it, and the MacKinnies are going bananas in my DMs. Message after message either accuses me of the stalking with question marks or accuses me with exclamation points. A car behind honks, startling me through the green light. I nearly miss Mac’s moving truck turn on a cross street and speed to catch up.
Red and blue lights pulsate in my rearview mirror as I turn onto the residential road that the movers did. White knuckling my steering wheel, I park against the curb and watch the moving truck get further and further away, until suddenly that view is also obstructed by wailing police vehicles. The cop behind me parks close to my bumper, while one sidles up to my hood and a third parallel across the street. I don’t even have time to be confused before my phone chimes with an alert:
A flash of bright yellow hair steals my gaze up through the window again. Mac doesn’t look particularly happy, but healthy and safe are good enough for now. Moving is always a stressful endeavor, of course, and she’d been expecting What’s-His-Face to come help load her wealth of boxes. It takes everything in me not to jump into the street and start helping herself, but I know that’s not my role. Not yet. I have to stay behind the scenes until Mac invites me into the MK-Ultimate Squad herself.
Some of the existing Squad run in and out of the mansion in a flurry of laughter and the vlogging camera changing hand to hand. Mac is the only one clearly not having a good time; she keeps glancing around nervously, adjusting the gray trucker cap that does nothing to disguise her. The MacKinsey in the video isn’t smiling either. My fingers twitch impotently, wanting to swipe away the frown on both Mac’s faces. Once I learn where the new “MacMansion” is, I can set to work on turning that frown upside down. Hell, I’d be more considerate and productive than these clowns Mac keeps around currently.
The moving truck finally shutters its trailer and the Squad piles into their luxury cars, just in time for Mac’s video to end. I quickly pull up the Zach Sang Show podcast released in tandem with the video, then pulls out a couple cars behind the moving truck. Zach and MacKinsey joke around a bit before getting into the meat of the interview and how the internet brought the stalker to her attention in the first place. Conspiracy channels put it together after deep-diving into how Mac’s smart technology works and cataloging gigabytes of clues from Reddit threads and Discord chats. Threads and chats flagging a dozen of my burner accounts. My breath starts to race.
At a red light, I pause the show and open all my social medias. Twitter is already abuzz with mixed feelings about MacKinsey having a stalker. Ugly people who cancelled her after the last video say she deserves it, rational people say no one deserves it, and the MacKinnies are going bananas in my DMs. Message after message either accuses me of the stalking with question marks or accuses me with exclamation points. A car behind honks, startling me through the green light. I nearly miss Mac’s moving truck turn on a cross street and speed to catch up.
Red and blue lights pulsate in my rearview mirror as I turn onto the residential road that the movers did. White knuckling my steering wheel, I park against the curb and watch the moving truck get further and further away, until suddenly that view is also obstructed by wailing police vehicles. The cop behind me parks close to my bumper, while one sidles up to my hood and a third parallel across the street. I don’t even have time to be confused before my phone chimes with an alert:
[New Instagram Notification: MacKinsey Allé is Live!]
The mayhem ceases to register louder than ASMR in my ears as I open Instagram to a video of my own beige Prius surrounded by police from about four blocks ahead. An officer knocks on my window. The camera flips around to show MacKinsey in the gray trucker hat, shouting over the sirens that she’s filming the sting operation to catch her stalker. I nearly squeal and the quickening of my heart is for entirely new reasons. Drama Alert comments a row of shocked-face emojis. Mac’s crying and smiling at the same time. It brings a smile to my face, too. Mac is happy to see me, she’s putting me in her video, this is good content. The officer is yelling with her hand on her gun harness now. I hold the Live in one hand and reawaken my iPad in the other. Mac’s social media following grows by the second as #MacKinseyWins trends across platforms. I refresh YouTube. 2.89million subscribers. 2.91 million. 2.95 million. 2.97. 2.98. 2.99.
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KYLIE AYN YOCKEY (she/her) is a queer creative and Poetry Editor for Blood Tree Literature. She earned her MA from Spalding University's Naslund-Mann School of Writing. Her work appears in literary publications such as Glyph Magazine, Meow Meow Pow Pow, Butter Press, and more. www.kylieaynyockey.com
/// In answer to your question of what it means to "be kaleidoscoped," I interpret that as not just the act of being transmuted, but a willingness or even enthusiasm to be alchemical -- of embracing change. /// "Para/Social" relates to the ideas of ghosts and gossip in two key ways. First, the nature of stalking is akin to haunting, and so my protagonist is not only faking ghosts for the influencer, but literally haunting her. Second, I think gossip and sensationalization are huge aspects of what grows the careers of social media influencers and internet celebrities, which is part of what drives this protagonist's actions to elevate her idol. |