My addiction is social media.
Like other addicts, I’m quick to say, “Well, I’m not as bad as other people.” But “bad” isn’t a continuum. At least for me.
I could also say, “Well, there are circumstances.” My old laptop isn’t serving me well anymore, and now I do everything on my phone. I’m typing this with one finger.
Social media exists to create user engagement. The more time you spend on it, the more the algorithm tweaks your content. You like cats? A million cute kitten videos are at your command. You want to end the oligarchy? You’ll find your people, thanks to the oligarchs themselves. They put up with radical left wingers the way the tobacco companies offered low tar cigarettes.
I feel very fortunate that I never engaged with X or TikTok. But it’s so easy to spend 45 minutes scrolling Facebook. I’m going to see New Jersey sea glass and stunning photos of turkey vultures. I’m going to smack down anti-union propaganda and discover that my friend the Monkey Man has been hit by a car. On Instagram I am going to see my daughter The Fair’s personal and professional content. It’s so hard to back away.
The precipitating factor in my decision to curb my impulses is the decision by that mutant Zuckerberg to curtail fact checking. If we are in a car accelerating on Hitler Highway, I suddenly don’t want to take in the scenery. Who wants to gawk at a hellscape?
So I am back here on “The Gods Are Bored,” punching the air for no one in particular. Like so many sensible people, I feel defeated and anxious. That mindset doesn’t lend itself to engaging content, but I’ll try. My broken brain needs the re-set.
I have content moderation on this blog now, so your communication may not get seen right away. But I will get to it.
It took me 25 minutes to type this, and that’s 25 minutes I spent somewhere other than the toxic platforms.
One day at a time.
