Last night, the BBC announced the identity of the actor who will play the next Doctor on the insanely-popular British TV series Doctor Who. Most of us behind the scenes here are big fans of the series, so we watched the announcement with some anticipation, and can say that we approve of their choice. For the sake of those who want to keep it something of a surprise, we won’t announce it here, (“Spoilers, Sweetie!“) but we wish you the best of luck keeping your head in the sand for the next few months.
Immediately after the announcement, the internets burst into life with opinions on the announcement. The squealing fangirls were outraged, because the new actor was far too old to be a boy-band-style heart-throb, and they would find themselves without someone about whom they could fantasize while touching themselves in unmentionable places. Pedantic Whovians were upset because the actor has already had roles on both Doctor Who and Torchwood. Others were upset because the new Doctor was not the particular candidate they had been hoping for, or had bet heavily upon with the British bookies who were making a healthy business on the speculation. Only a very few seemed genuinely excited about the new face of the most famous Time Lord in the universe.
And that seems to be the way of things nowadays. Any change is met with a great deal of wailing and gnashing of teeth, with everyone explaining at length why their opinion is much more valid than that of the people actually responsible for creating whatever it is that the great unwashed masses are upset about.
What is the greatest example of a furor of righteous indignation over an otherwise insignificant change?