January 12, 2008 by Robert Kozinets.

I gave a talk this week to a great company here in Toronto that does very interesting work in the communications industry. We got into a lot of very interesting discussions afterwards about online communities and the topics revolved, interestingly enough, about creating and controlling online communities. That seems to be an ongoing topic of conversation and concern wherever I speak these days. This tension between “real” emergent tribes (as I say in my talks, the e in etribes is for emergent) and the desire to “manage” online communities, their outputs, their experiences, to have some control over this phenomenon. To influence it, or even sort of own it.

One of the conversations I’m thinking went something like this. A person from the company came up to me after my talk.

Company Person: I was wondering if we should create our own community from scratch, or try to convert people who are already in a community.

Me: Well, that depends on what you want to achieve. What are you trying to do?

Company Person: We’re trying to build loyalty.

Me: Do you think you can implant loyalty with a created community? Or seed it? Or intensify it?

Company Person: Maybe start it by convincing the people in the online community, then it would spread to other people and communities online.

Me (being a little provocative): Like fooling some of the people some of the time? Then it become contagious in some way?

Company Person: Hmmm.

Me: The problem with a lot of seeded online communities is that they’re not the same as the kind of communities that emerge on their own. That can be a good thing or a bad thing. It depends on what you’re trying to achieve. The issue with emergent communities is that they tend to be brutally honest. They tell each other things that are totally out of your control. Are you willing to let them do that? If so, then I think that maybe you can create a space where people act like this is a real, emergent community that they can call their own.

Company Person: What do you mean are we willing to do that?

Me: Well, there’s a little story I like to tell my students about the Godzilla web-site. Here, let me tell you about it…(cue sentimental, ‘way back when,’ HuckFinnMarkTwainy music…)’

Way back in the early days of the Web, in May of 1998 t’be exact, a big-budget, shrouded-in-secrecy remake movie of the famous Godzilla series came out. You might remember its memorable penile tag-line “Size Matters.” Ah yes, those were the days. At that time the film’s producer and co-write, Dean Devlin, and its director, Roland Emmerich, has started a production company called Centropolis Entertainment, which helped to market the film and produced an official “Godzilla ” website to build hype and promote the film. The website was a decent one, and the film’s producers knew that there was a lot of word-of-mouth flowing among Godzilla’s active fan community about the film. So, of course, they provided an open forum for those fans to discuss the film amongst themselves.

As a complete sidebar here, weren’t bulletin boards and newsgroups always Web 2.0? I know Web 2.0 is supposed to be corporate in orientation. Big business using communal creativity and openness to make good. But can somebody who advocates the smooth evolutionary transition from Web 1.0 in the dark early years of the eighties and nineties to the brilliant stellar Web 2.0 phase of the early 2000s please fill me in on that one? And what about Compuserve and Prodigy and Usenet and all the zillions of b-boards that were out there in the eighties? Weren’t they almost Classically Web 2.0? They sure felt that way to me. Was AOL a Web 2.0 company?

Where was I? Oh yes, Godzilla, or Gojira as my Japanese friends and I like to call him. The long-time fans were the first ones in line and the first ones past the red velvet ropes to see the movie. And they hated the movie. Hated it bigtime. So when they had a chance to post their comments and contribute to their community–which was, after all, not a new invention of Misters Devlin and Emmerich, but a long-standing community with lots of existing fans, practices, and networks–guess what they did? Of course. They criticized. They moaned about what a butchering, unfaithful, horrid hatchetjob had been done to their iconic film and its proto-iconic icon. And they warned other fans and interested people to stay away. It was not only a bad Godzilla movie, they told everyone on the forum, it was just a bad, stinky, terrible movie in general. Blech, blech, pooey pooey.

Now, that’s a real test of commitment to community, isn’t it? As managers, Misters Devlin and Emmerich had some decisions to make. In particular, how should they handle this? Abort, retry, engage, fight back, ignore?

They didn’t have the benefit that we do of having some wise advice in this area widely available from luminaries like Alex Wipperfurth and Grant McCracken and Andy Sernovitz and Henry Jenkins and Ben McConnell and Jackie Huba and Don Tapscott. However, the Cluetrain Manifesto was already circulating in its early forms. Remember the Cluetrain Manifesto (available in much longer format in print as The Cluetrain Manifesto)? What an important document that was and still is! It talks about the need for companies to engage in open, honest conversations with the organizing networks of people who are their markets. In fact, it defines a company’s markets as a set of conversations. To his credit, Mr. Devlin did decide to engage these fans in conversation.

According to a Wall Street Journal article on the event (`Godzilla’ Web Visitors Terrorize A Touchy Hollywood Producer,” by Bruce Orwall, Jun 8, 1998. p. B.1), here’s what happened:

To one especially tough-minded fan he [producer and co-writer Dean Devlin] wrote: “Our movie did what it was supposed to do. We’re all happy about it. If you don’t like that, to hell with you.” To another who called the movie a flop: “Please tell me how you figure that a movie that will make the studio over a hundred million dollars in profit is a flop? Where’d you learn your math?” To the editor of a science-fiction magazine who had chided him, Mr. Devlin wrote: “And as for my ‘royalty’ check you refer to, since it’s larger than all of my other royalty checks on all my other films combined, I’m more than happy with it, thank you.” The cyber-howlings of a well-paid Hollywood producer didn’t find a sympathetic audience. “My God! It sickens me to hear a man go on like that!” one fan wrote. “You’ve got to get over the fact that a lot of people, for whatever reason, just don’t like the film.”

After a bit of back and forth jousting, taking heavy hits, enraging the online community, and setting a pretty stark quintessentially us versus them, me-big-capitalist Hollywood Producer you puny little consumer fanboy invidious hierarchized boundary dichotomy (that seems pretty heavily socially-classed, my sociologist friends) Centropolis made its decision.

Shut down the dissent. Shut the fans up. Shut the site down.

The “Acid Tests” were early psychedelic drug parties, quasi-religious San Fran celebrations that were in themselves celebrated and immortalized in Tom Wolfe’’s “Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test” novel about the Merry Pranksters. You had to drink the LSD-laced Kool-Aid and pass the “Acid Test” before you were “one of us.” Once you did, there were even “diplomas” that were bestowed upon you.

So here’s my “Electric Community Acid Test.” What would you, as a good brand or company manager do, if some of the members of your nice members of your nice created online community started telling other community members how terrible your product was, or insulting managers personally and by name, or exposing moral flaws in your production or marketing process, or listing solid reasons and then strongly advocating that people to buy from your competitors instead of you? What if you responded politely to them, and then they shot back at you with full force? Maybe you’d respond politely again, and then even more customers jumped on the bandwagon to attack you. They piled on. (Oh, I’ve got lots of examples in mind.) Maybe then you’d try to moderate the group, perhaps arguing that these are competitor “plants” and “moles” (and, heck, they certainly could be).

Would you shut it down? Or would you be able to go the distance? To let the bells of free speech ring, even in their loud and disharmonious tones?

Hmmmm.

I think the topic of “how do we create a community” or “how do we control our community” completely misses some essential points about communities. Some of the most exciting aspects of communities come from their grassroots nature and the fact that communities will tell you the truth. When people gather collectively into communities that care about products, lifestyles or consumption acts, they are empowered to act as truth-tellers.

But a lot of the time managers business-people just don’t want to hear the truth. “You can’t handle the truth!” Jack Nicholson screamed in A Few Good Men. I actually think companies can definitely, certainly handle the truth. But it’s messy. It creates new work. Work we’re not currently set up to handle. It’s difficult. It’s personal and human and unpredictable. And it’s not always that “validating” of the status quo and the way we usually do things around here.

Here’s a somewhat risky thought.

Why don’t we think about online communities as “electric communities” who are, in a different sort of way, experimental “parties” experimenting with their own newfound “electric” powers. What about the “Acid Test” they are forcing upon companies and their managers? Will it open up the Corporate Doors of Perception? What happens then? What is Corporate Enlightenment in the Age of Electric Community? How does this test reveal, just like LSD ASCs and access to higher realms of consciousness did for the neophyte Merry Pranksters and Pranksterettes, what you’re truly made of?

How does it reveal who drank the corporate Kool-Aid? And what that Kool Aid’s laced with after all?

Posted in Netnography, Fandom, Word of Mouth Marketing, Communities and Tribes | 1 Comment »

October 2, 2007 by Robert Kozinets.

Building a strong product or brand community, especially online, has become a key part of marketing plans in the twenty-first century. That’s a big leap forward from a past where consumers were treated as solely individualist and isolated. But this emphasis on communities leaves practitioners and theorists at a loss. The idea of “building” communities is a very new and somewhat radical idea. Let’s think about it for a minute.

What might be one of the big keys to building strong communities?

What if I said the answer was exclusion? What if I said it was about building external boundaries that glorify those who are “in the know” and keep out the riffraff? What if I said it’s about having a strict, challenging hierarchy with lots of levels, where people have to struggle for glory and recognition and are constantly being pitted against one another. It seems to work for Coke and Pepsi. For Apple and Microsoft. For Star Wars versus Star Trek fans.

In fact, a lot of the competitive positioning we see, in this world dominated by global and local oligopolies, is all about favoring us versus them, about hierarchies within hierarchies.

One of my Ph.D. students, Andrew Feldstein of Pace University in NYC, just sent me a great link to a fan-based insight on this topic of boundary setting and hierarchies. Check out this terrific chart, which I reproduce here from its source at Brunching Shuttlecocks http://www.brunching.com/images/geekchartbig.gif

Check out the original chart here.

You can’t really read it here, but it is hilarious, and also pretty true. The fan community is filled with hierarchies that they chart here. Not so much who is cooler than whom (that goes without saying) but who is less geekier than whom (that’s the true content for debate). At the bottom of the char, the very bottom, are “people who write erotic versions of Star Trek where all the characters are furries.” Slightly above them are “erotic furries” and above them are just “furries.” Funny, the same chart could probably already be drawn up in Second Life. Second Life has lots of furries.

Now, only slightly above furries are “Trekkies who get married in Klingon garb.” Um, that should read Trekkers, but nevermind. This group is roughly equivalent to “13 year old gamers of all sorts,” “Pokemon fans over the age of six” and people who collect expensive replicas of famous fantasy swords. And so it goes, with “Trekkies” higher in the right-to-brag foodchain than “Trekkies who speak Klingon” all the way up to the penultimate high culture category of “Science Fiction and Fantasy fans.” This last category is only trumped by published SF and Fantasy authors and artists.

I have to say, with significantly puffed-up pride, that I would make it to the topic of this little org chart of geekdom. Yep, as this link proves beyond a shadow of a doubt, I am a published science fiction author. Go look it up, if you dare. One day maybe I’ll share the story on this blog. I may even try to publish some more one day (you’ve seen one of my past efforts here).

But the Sad Truth is, there are even hierarchies above the top category of published SF or fantasy author (which is Olympian to SF fans according to the geek chart).

• Published only one story is trumped by published several stories.
• Published in a second-tier, long-defunct magazine like Aboriginal is trumped by publishing in a top-tier, still-thriving mag like Asimov’s.
• Writing a novel versus a short story.
• Writing a best-selling novel.
• Writing a string of best-selling novels.
• And, to top it all off, writing academically and critically deconstructing about an author’s string of best-selling novels (yeah, right).

So, all humor aside (for the moment), what’s the significance of this? Not only in my research, but in research published on all subcultures and communities, including the influential brand community work by my colleagues Al Muniz and Tom O’Guinn, people in communities were found to differentiate themselves from outsiders by structural boundary rules and conditions. We love the Mac and Apple but we despise all things Microsoft and Bill Gatesian. We love Coke, how can you like Pepsi? We love rock, but we hate country, or classical, or whatever. Insiders versus outsiders. Welcome to the human condition, capitalist-style.

I love the visual representation of geekdom in this Flickr photoset by Scott Johnson. After looking through his set of 56 geeks it dawned on me that this was humanity in all its silly splendor. How lovable and wonderful: we’re all geeky through and through, in our emotions and our passions and our inner childishness.

As an anthropologist, I have to say that this is of great interest, but that social hierarchies being used as corporate tools also concerns me. Anthropology has in the last 20 years at least championed a renewed respect for “the Other” (yes, it sounds like a ‘50s sci-fi movie, but that’s the term used in anthropology circles, honestly). That new respect is an attempt to transcend cultural anthropology’s objectivist and colonialist past.

“The study of culture tends to produce bounded entities and, in so doing, it produces human separation if not, progressively, hierarchization and invidious comparison.” (Fernandez 1994: 162). Fredrik Barth (1995), writing in the Journal of Anthropological Research, contends that culture tends to be used to refer to differences in customs, which leads to exoticizing and depersonalizing groups and identities. The idea of brand communities having distinct “rituals and traditions” comes immediately to mind.

It’s not just the study of culture, but now the study of brand and product communities that is furthering these boundariers. The idea of culture as “an integrated, locally shared way of life” leads to an image of culture with a “geographical locus and boundaries”, and turns “physical persons and their behaviors into cultural specimens” (Barth 1995: 66).

We can say the same thing about brand and product communities and, to a similar extend, online communities, like the “virtual communities of consumption” and the “e-tribes” I’m pretty fond of studying and writing about. Barth (1995) argues that these biases are lessened when we stop classifying people into cultural categories and adopt a more cognitive perspective that recognizes what they actually know or don’t know. Knowledge then becomes the major modality of culture.

I also believe that in our writing and research we should be attempting to harmonize Self and Other. Full participation has always been a big theme in my methodology explanations. I believe very much in the anthropological standard , of the researcher being fully accepted as a cultural or community member, and psychologically accepts her or his membership in the culture or community.
Researcher introspection of one’s own thoughts then becomes another source of cultural data, as the cultural legacy is internalized and understood from the most authentic vantage point possible. The point is not that an ethnographer can live the lives of Others, but that she can live them close enough to begin to understand how their worlds have been constructed. Thus closeness and intimacy with the Others’ perspectives and lives are what is required in the post-crisis age of ethnography.

Critiquing the earlier, primarily observational, practice of ethnographic fieldwork, Van Maanen (1988: 9) says that

fieldwork is not of an ethnographic sort when it is pursued by a team of social researchers as a sort of expedition or Foucault-like panopticon observation-and-interview project. Fieldwork of an ethnographic kind is authentic to the degree it approximates the stranger stepping into a culturally alien community to become, for a time and in an unpredictable way, an active part of the face-to-face relationships in that community.

In marketing, full participation in ethnographic inquiries has been inconsistently and rarely applied. John Schouten and Jim McAlexander joined the Harley-Davidson biking community and subculture in a long-term immersion project in order to research and write about it. Their work is iconic in our field. Overall, however, marketing ethnographies seem to emphasize the observational element of participant-observation. The participative element gets mighty short shrift. And as a method, researcher introspection suffered a premature and suspect demise.

Hierarchization as the key to community building? Absolutely. Invidious comparison? Yup. It’s the human condition. But I wonder about the human level ramifications of all these separations. What does it feel like to be on the wrong side of these community relations?

Posted in Fandom, Word of Mouth Marketing, Communities and Tribes, Branding | 1 Comment »

September 9, 2007 by Robert Kozinets.

And here’s the conclusion to that great Gender Debate, also featured on Henry Jenkins highly recommended blog, Confessions of an Aca-Fan. Hope you enjoy it.

* * * *

Techspressive Tools

Francesca Coppa: The two other gendered concerns I have are about technology and affect: technology in that it seems to me that there’s a cliché of “men are techie” and women are not, but media fandom in general and vidding in particular go against that: fannish women have always been particularly drawn from the sciences, and vidding was pioneered by women who (by definition) knew how to program a VCR. So the history of vidding is important for exploding some of those stereotypes. However, these technical, filmmaking women didn’t make ironic, distanced parodies; they tended to make emotionally invested music videos, and that’s an affective choice with problematically gendered legal implications. Mocking male distance is explicitly protected by the Constitution, where female identification/emotional investment is not as explicitly protected, although it is certainly transformative. Even in these debates on HJ’s journal, we see a kind of gentle mocking of slash, or trying to come up with “wild” examples, (say, Geoffrey Long’s “a piece of fanfic I might post to my blog tonight featuring Scarlett making out with Darth Vader“); my own experience in fandom actually tells me not to prejudge such a story: the writer might have a reason for writing that. The story might be great: imagine how it might comment on gender and race.

Robert Kozinets: This idea reminds me again of recent developments in my own field, which draws a lot of inspiration from cultural theory and cultural theorists. Regarding technology, I’ve just completed an article on the ideologies that guide technology consumption. It’s a deep tracking of the historical discourses that inform current narratives in the mass media and in consumer’s own speech acts (and their practices/performances with technology). Some of the historical forms are quite familiar, such as the Technological Utopian ideology that associates technology use with progress, or the ideology that associate technology consumption with efficiency, productivity, and economic gains. But I also find a more hidden ideology, one that I think has come to the fore more recently. I call that one the “Techspressive” discourse, and it is about using technology in ways that are playful and self-expressive. Thinking back to when this ideology was really breaking into mass consciousness, in the 1990s, there were a number of female artists and authors who were pushing the boundaries of new digital technologies in very interesting ways, and others who were theorizing these developments. I’m thinking of the top of my head of Laurie Anderson, Pat Cadigan, Donna Haraway, and Kathryn Hayles, but there are many other examples. As groups that have had to function in inventive and underground ways, women have been at the forefront of appropriating new technologies and deploying them in new ways. I think that the positioning of vidding in this wider historical trend is right on target. No question about that.

Francesca Coppa: Oh, I love that word: techspressive! Yes, I think that’s right; and in fact, you know, I wonder if women’s tendency to adopt these technologies early is at all connected to the fact that women have always had a more mediated relationship to public space than men: we were not historically allowed to have an “authentic” or fully “expressive” relationship to public space. Barbara Ehrenreich points out that women were ignored in the first wave of subculture studies because they weren’t visible on the streets the way teddy boys, mods, or rockers were; they were home in their rooms listening to Beatles records on the turntable and spinning fantasies to each other on the telephone. I wrote my first fanfiction longhand and sent it out via snail mail. Now we have irc and AIM and jabber and Skype; we have mailing lists and Livejournal; we make elaborate fannish banners and css design schemes for our webpages; we’ve got wikis and searchable fanfiction archives and iMeem pages for our vids. But we’re not technological or anything.

The Fan Boy Reconsidered
Robert Kozinets: No, of course not. Some of my favorite women are cyborgs. I’ll let you guess the details..;-). The other idea I wanted to raise has to do with maleness. My colleagues Doug Holt and Craig Thompson recently published an interesting article on the ideology of male consumption. Their findings were compelling to me. They found that contemporary American males had to negotiate between two idealized types of masculinity. The first was the solid-but-kinda-boring “breadwinner” model, the guys who is a good provider, solid friend, good husband, and so on. But in order to be attractive and interesting, men also felt a need to tack into a “rebel” model, who was a risk-taker, a hero, an achiever. Doug and Craig called the synthetic model, where men moved between both models of masculinity without ever settling too far into one, a “man-of-action hero model.” Studying fan culture as I do, I’m not sure exactly where fannish expression fits into such a model. Men today work under constraints that are historically new, constraints and expectations that their dads didn’t have (I certainly don’t remember any pressure on my dad to moisturize and exfoliate). Being emotionally invested in texts and characters (particularly male characters) can be genuinely problematic for male fans. I’ve written a bit about the stigmatic side of fannish consumption before. So what have we got now? A social world where traditional maleness is somewhat stigmatized, where softy sensitive maleness is certainly stigmatized, and where fannish investments are stigmatized. What’s a poor fanboy to do?

Francesca Coppa: My first thought when I noticed the rise of fanboy culture was, “oh, you guys are getting alienated from the means of production, too?”

Robert Kozinets: Oh yeah.

Francesca Coppa: When I teach mass culture, I like to use Richard Ohmann’s definition, part of which of which is “produced at a distance by strangers.” And while we have unparalleled closeness to TPTB, I think that at the same time, the gulf between producers and consumers has never been wider, and that there’s a real underlying hostility to the idea of consumers becoming producers, and thinking like producers.

Robert Kozinets: I see that in action all the time. Despite all the talk about Web2.0, there is genuine misunderstanding, real fear, and as you say, genuine hostility to these ideas of suddenly “active” consumers.

Francesca Coppa: Because the American economy is dependent on consumption, and the mass media seems willing to actually exert force in order to get us to keep consuming at whatever rate they deem appropriate: I mean, I have twice in the last week heard the word “stealing” used to describe a failure to look at ads: once, vis a vis Tivo, and once, vis a vis “adblocker” software. And behind that word, stealing, is the criminalization of the act of keeping our minds ad-free, and behind that criminalization is force. In some economic sense, are we all feminized now?

Robert Kozinets: Bingo. Why are you peasants sleeping when you could be drinking Red Bull, watching TV, and shopping? Get to work!

Francesca Coppa: Absolutely, but to paraphrase Orwell, maybe some of us are more feminized than others. But I do think we’re all of us suffering from a culture that has professionalized, commercialized, and turned spectatorial all the kinds of fun we used to make for ourselves: not just storytelling (written and theatrical) and painting, but sports, singing, and even poker.

Robert Kozinets: Now you’re starting to sound like a Consumer Culture Theorist. Seriously, there’s a whole literature on this coming from the Frankfurt School and descending in crooked lineal lines into consumer behavior theories. My work on Burning Man and among consumer activists chronicles how people feel that their current culture isolates them and tries to render them passive. Movements like culture jamming, doofing and other post-raves, and the rise of major TAZ-like gatherings like the Burning Man project going on this week and the Rainbow Family gatherings all share in this ideological opposition to capitalist culture commercializing our stories and myths, and a sense that they need to be “brought home” again to the people.

Wikimedia and Archontic Literature

Francesca Coppa: I just finished reading your “Inno-tribes: Star Trek as Wikimedia,” [in the new Consumer Tribes book] and I really love it; I think this is going to be a really, really useful piece for explaining fannish issues to big media. I especially like your concept of “Wikimedia” (media content that has gone open source and begun spawning new content as a kind of ever-expanding collaborative text), which is similar to Derridean “archontic” literature (I myself use “supplement” to describe the same concept vis a vis theatre in my essay “ “Media Fanfiction as Theatrical Performance”). I think that it’s important to emphasize the connection between Wikimedia and other forms of archontic culture; theatre in particular has been a useful model for me to think about what you’ve called brand “invigoration strategies” and what I’d call a theatrical production *g*. In fact, you nearly quote Alan Sinfield’s essay on Shakespeare and cultural materialism in Cultural Politics-Queer Reading; Sinfield says that Shakespeare is relevant to precisely the degree to which he’s interfered with by directors; leave Shakespeare alone and he dies, and Shakespeare is arguably the most successful brand in history.

Robert Kozinets: What a great, and classical, example. Absolutely. For me, the Bible, the Talmud, and exegesis in general have always been important working models, and the way Shakespeare’s texts are sacralized in our culture is another powerful example. It seems like whenever people invest themselves in text and continue working with it, developing it, making it current and specific and situating it, then we have strong texts, meaningful texts. But somehow this never does seem to sink in at the level of the textual producer. It’s funny, because it’s the same in religion. Don’t tamper with the text. We’ll control the text. We’ll control the interpretation. And then, there it is again at the level of brand management. The exact same tension. We’ll control the brand meanings. Don’t you tamper with them. But without the “tampering” the meaning fades out and dies. Damn those The Powers That Be (and you know who you are!)

Francesca Coppa: Vis a vis the gender argument I’m making, I would say that fandom has produced strategies that have allowed women to consume otherwise terrible (and sexist) mass media stories; we have done TPTB’s work and made this stuff interesting to ourselves (to TPTB’s financial advantage; I promise you, I would never have bought Stargate Atlantis action figures otherwise.) Let me give you links to two recent vids by Luminosity, one of our brightest vidding stars: one is a Supernatural vid called Women’s Work (made in collaboration with Sisabet); the other is called Vogue and is a vid made about Frank Miller’s 300. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble seeing these two vids as critiques of the source material. In the first, Luminosity reminds us that, to enjoy Supernatural (and its charismatic and sexy male leads) each week, we have to ignore the plot’s dependence on suffering or murdered women; in the second, Luminosity punctures the violence of 300 by defiantly aestheticizing both the battlefield and the men on it. She conflates the battlefield and the dance floor, subjecting the men to a female and queer gaze and setting Madonna up as this world’s reigning pagan goddess. Luminosity’s epigraph for this gender bait and switch? “Bite me, Frank Miller.” Together, you might think of these vids as: “This is how mass media looks to us without fandom” and “This is your television on fandom.”

Robert Kozinets: This is great stuff. Thanks for sharing all of this, and for the conversation. As a member of multiple minorities and multiple tribes, expression and representation are all-important to me as well. They matter a lot, and I hope they matter to all thinking people.

Francesca Coppa: Thank you, Robert; like so many fannish activities, this has been both productive and a pleasure.

Posted in Fandom, Entertainment Marketing, Communities and Tribes | No Comments »