Shakespeare on Why Other People Like Such Stupid Stuff

Jumping around the social mediasphere, it's not uncommon to feel the heat generated in praise of a favorite this or that over all the clearly inferior alternatives. Whilst human nature may never cool, I think Old Will had some insight worth considering the next time a flame threatens to flicker forth:

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun (Sonnet 130)

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red ; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.

–William Shakespeare