Recently, I was asked an interesting question. I’d like to share my thoughts on the answer.

After deconstructing the hilariously bad Twilight film, I received a degree of backlash. While most whining took the rather depressing form of defending the literary merit of glittering vampiric stalkers, one complaint actually struck me as (almost) quite clever: “What is the purpose of criticizing media?” Why spend ten dollars (or a half-hour downloads worth of bandwidth) on a popular supernatural romance I know has no conceivable chance of being good? What is the purpose of writing an 800-word piece on the merits and failings of the latest generic space marine videogame? Why read an obscure sci-fi novel forwards, backwards, and sideways in order to get a few cheap laughs writing it? In layman’s terms, what’s the point?

If I were a lazier writer, I’d simply point out that there’s always a demand for pretentious, sarcastic media commentators. Readers have developed a disturbing habit of skipping past the actual news (as our ever-shrinking news section reflects) to read the media commentary. But since I have a thin parody of a work ethic and an abundance of free time, I’ll dig a little deeper.

On a basic level, I support any form that serves as a platform for humor. Mass media is, for better or worse, a common thread. Mockery of the spam mass media churns out is one of the few semi-universally understood forms of comedy. Since most of my writing is esoteric by default, I get even greater benefit from this connection with the audience than the average critic.

Sometimes, it’s far too easy: most modern media seems to mock itself. Ever since the studios figured out they could make variations on the same film for the rest of their lives, there’s been a continuous downward spiral. We’ve hit the point where Aaron Seltzer and Jason Friedberg are considered legitimate satirists, an irony any writer can exploit. Commercials seem to guarantee that any game with enough titillation and explosions will fly off the shelves. And any list of things wrong with a Judd Apatow film is bound to be funnier than the movie itself. When it comes to the products of our culture, the difficulty isn’t in finding something to mock. It’s in managing to focus on just one.

As a hopeless misanthrope, I believe that society is only as good as the material it creates and consumes. There’s something inspirational about a culture that creates thoughtful, well-crafted literary and cinematic experiences. There’s also something intensely depressing about a culture that worships the melodramatic adventures of angsty teenage vampires. Beverley Hills Chihuahua and Wolverine Origins claimed the top spots on their respective opening weekends. Clearly, there’s a problem.

Idiotic products do more than waste the pocket money of the gullible. They lower our standards for deeper thought. They allow outmoded tropes and modes of thought to not only survive, but thrive. They detract from the respect our culture receives from observers both without and within. They stagnate the mind.

Every critic, from the respected syndicated columnist to the egotistical bored high school student, plays a role in raising our standards. A cursory glance at sales records show that these voices go largely ignored. But even a small impact on the cultural landscape is better than none at all.

The point behind criticizing media is simple. It’s about more than taking an easy shot at Stephanie Meyer (though, personally, that’s more than enough for me). The piece being reviewed is irrelevant; it’s the connection with the reader that’s important. I’ve enjoyed my time as a critic on this paper, and hope that somewhere along the line my ranting and raving has made that connection.