If you'll recall your pop culture history, Kaufman was a popular comedian in the 1970s who was on the TV series Taxi, and for his only starring film role he played a robot accountant in the obscure but amazing Heartbeeps (one of my favorite robot romance movies ever). After playing a robot, he became notorious for taking method comedy too far when he got into wrestling. Nobody was completely sure if Kaufman was joking or serious when he became a full-time wrestler who always fought ladies — but he died before anybody could figure it out.

Watching Spiner's "making of Dreamland" video on his new site (you can find it by clicking on the "video" link), I started to get an Andy Kaufman feeling. Is Spiner serious about this, or is it a method comedy joke? I mean, I am totally excited for him to delve back into the cheesy singing — that's a win, as far as I'm concerned. But there's none of the "yes I'm sort of kidding" stuff that went into his album Ol' Yellow Eyes. It seems like he's playing this one pretty straight. Which confuses me. And, admittedly, makes me want to stab my eyes out too.

Spiner's character Data was always one of my favorite characters on Star Trek: The Next Generation. The guy is a good actor and looks pretty damn Edward Nortony when it comes down to it. I wish this guy would get some weird roles in cool indie flicks or on Fringe or Sarah Connor Chronicles instead of doing CDs that make me . . well, worry a little bit about him.

Wired blogger Jenna Wortham quotes opening keynote speaker David Weinberger, a fellow at Harvard's Berkman Center for Internet and Society, describing how web fame has transformed fame as a whole:

"We made him, made them, famous," Weinberger said while showing photographs of the Star Wars Kid, Obama Girl, the home page of Turkish net fad Mahir and clips of YouTube's ubiquitous laughing babies. Weinberger went on to describe the current state of the fame game, saying that the traditional model of Hollywood megacelebrity is "based on alienation" — a model, Weinberger says, that opens the door for us to reinterpret our notions of fame.

"[Hollywood celebrities] cease to be famous when we see them as they are," a concept he demonstrated by showing several gossip magazine pictures of celebrities without their makeup. "Blogging, however, is all about taking off the 'makeup.' They're exposing themselves as fallible human beings."

The same holds true for the rest of the web celebs. "What's famous on the web looks like it was done by a human hand," said Weinberger, while showing a Homestar Runner graphic. "They still feel like ours."

"It's not just the homespun quality of what's famous on the web. It's how fame works — it's becoming much more DIY," said Weinberger. "Fame is now living in a long tail, or a long continuum of ways to be famous."

While it sounded like a seriously fun party at ROFLCon, packed with people whose online creations I've been enjoying for years, it's hard to take seriously the idea that web celebrities are truly challenging the sartorial-celebrity industrial complex. Many of the "celebrities" in attendance didn't know who the other celebrities were, and a lot of the attendees were fans of the obscure rather than the popular.

Ultimately ROFLCon was a gathering of people who are subculturally famous, the way many weirdo artists and creators have been for at least the past 200 years. I'd love it if Tron Guy's fame really were challenging Tom Hanks' fame, making all of us into potential celebrities. And making Tom Hanks into less of a big deal, which he really should be. But if anything, ROFLCon proved that challenge isn't happening. Web celebrities, if you can call them that, have hundreds of cool, devoted fans. But they're going to need millions before I'm convinced that, as Weinberger asserts, we're "reinterpreting our notions of fame."

I guess what I'm saying is that millions of downloads aren't the same as millions of fans. Until they are, Gem Sweater lady will never vanquish Paris Hilton. I'm not sure if that's a tragedy or a joke.

Tron Guy photographed by Scott Beale.