Like all fiascos, it started with the best of intentions. It's a weak excuse, I realize, so save me all of your "The road to hell is paved..." and blah, yadda, blah, ad nauseum. At the time, it felt like the right thing to do. Ok, that is a lie, at the time it still felt mean spirited, juvenile, and vindictive, but lordy, was it entertaining. Who knew that taking shots at people from behind the anonymity* of the internets could be such a good time?
*Every time I use the word anonymity, two things happen: Uno, I can never spell the damn thing right. This would lead a normal person with a slightly above average education to a dictionary, correct? Nope, I spend eight minutes in a fierce battle with spell check trying different combinations until either I get it right or the computer just gives up. Ok, 15 minutes. B) My brain immediately brings up the image of Stuart Smally on those SNL sketches from the early 90s. TV has left my imagination a waste land of pointless references to sketch comedy.
I admit, in the grand scheme of confessions, it ranks well below murder. How-evah, it sure isn’t going to earn me any gold stars or trophies either. (Maybe a participation certificate; they give those to anybody.) So, kiddos, it’s time to come clean for my role in the decline of civil discourse. I did not create the heap of toxic waste it has become, but I certainly contributed my shovel full.
Step 1: Discovery
I used to have a diehard addiction to newspapers. I like to tell myself it was to stay informed of things like important political issues, world events, and local affairs. The truth is I usually scanned it for salacious headlines and sports news. I think the breakdown would look something like this: Stories read with the words sex, scandal, cover up, murder or any combination in the headline: 80%; Sports: 15%; Less than half a completed crossword: 4%; Stories read to delay getting back from lunch: 1%.
Two things contributed to my AA moment with newspapers: A) Most (and by most, I mean all) of the old papers ended up in the back seat of my car. This would be great if I ever found myself in need of something to start a fire, cheap ass wrapping paper, or a sudden desire to make paper mache. It’s not so great for hauling passengers. Plus, have you ever experienced the stench that is newspaper left for several days in the sun? Not pleasant. I was also terrified of finding a family of mice nesting back there.
Dos) One afternoon at work I was fighting the urge to hide under my desk and sleep by screwing around online. I ended up at the local paper’s web site. All the same stories I read earlier were right there on the computer screen. For free. There was no grumpy Kum and Go clerk demanding the last four shiny quarters from my pocket. After about 20 minutes of intense calculation involving complex equations I came up with this answer: The cost of the paper Monday through Friday=$5 plus tax. Cost of my just reading it online=Free*. Yes, I do have a place cleared on my shelf for my Nobel Prize in Mathematics.
*Obviously this does not include the cost to my employer for all the hours wasted staring at my monitor when I could have been working. I am convinced my productivity would increase by 78.9% if I were forced to work in a dark broom closet.
This in turn led me to the opinions page.
Step 2: Titillation
The opinion page is an interesting place. It’s the literary equivalent to the set of the Mad Max movies: A vast desert populated by crazy people who jump out from behind rocks and shout gibberish at you. The layout is pretty much the same every day. Lead with a toothless editorial from the paper’s editorial board, something that rallies the opposing side to arms. “Our view: Kicking puppies is bad” or maybe “Our view: Pants are great”. That kind of hard hitting stuff. Next is a column by one of the syndicated writers who aim to convince you Democrats are sending us all to hell or Republicans hate you and your mom, depending on the day of the week. We then get our local columnists, which I’m convinced got the gig by being the weirdest combination of demographics ever in an effort to make sure all Springfield’s crazy voices get heard. Monday is conservative Christian sailor, Tuesday is liberal church preacher who supports same sex marriage, and so on and so forth. I’m not sure why they want to write these weekly opinion pieces. Maybe it’s because they get their photo printed beside them? Who hasn’t dreamed of ending up on page 8A someday?
And then, oh then, the crown jewel of the opinion page: Reader’s letters. Give me a second, I’m getting the crack-shakes just thinking about them. Ok, better. What kind of topics get people so fired up, so incensed, so passionate that they go to the trouble of putting pen to paper and letting everyone know how they feel? After spending months looking at these things, I can say with confidence the most popular topics are: People in Springfield can’t drive and should use their turn signals more; God hates the sin, not the sinner, but you are all going to burn in hell anyway; everything would be ok if we could just get rid of the churches; everything would be ok if we could just get rid of beer/cigarettes/texting; the sitting President, regardless of who, is a liar, an idiot and hates America; and hey you kids, get off my damn lawn.
It was fantastic. I couldn’t imagine it would get any better until I read one word: “Comment.”
Step Three: The Voice of Reason
A whole world of possibilities opened up to me. One click is all that separated me from setting these bozos straight. Well, one click and the creation of a patently stupid screen name. This is where I enter stage left, riding my white horse and liberating the poor unwashed masses from the tyranny of limited thinking. I would be that voice of common sense in the vast wilderness of crazy town*. I hopped to work quickly.
*Do I realize that all the writers I just mocked above probably had the same intention? Not a bit. Excuse me while I get this piece of hubris out of me eye…
Most of my comments started out rational on the verge of boring. The specifics have left me, but I think the general idea was “Maybe you should calm down a little” or “Aren’t there more important things for us to worry about?” and “Take a deep breath.” You know, solid, if bland advice. I sat back, pleased as punch, and waited for people to bask in the awe of my sense of fair play, of reason. However, there was one tiny problem.
No one noticed.
Step Four: The Lowest Common Denominator
Honestly, I didn’t expect to change the world. I thought I could spark some self reflection, a pump the brakes moment, if you will. Perhaps some tete-a-tete in the comment sections where we share a chuckle over the banality of it all. What I didn’t expect was stone cold silence.
So I dug deeper. Who was getting responses? What I discovered shouldn’t have been a surprise for anyone who spent 12 plus years in the public school system or watches reality TV. Whoever says the most outrageous stuff loudly gets all the attention.
Outrageous doesn’t really cover it. Every base seemed covered: Religious condemnation, racism, sexism, intolerance and, topping the list, just general stupidity. These statements would start conversation threads that would last for days and approach 100 plus comments. We’re not talking in depth examination of the issues; just insults and craziness stacked up like bricks. It was more rock fight than a debate. A better person would have washed his hands of the whole thing and moved on to more lofty pursuits. A better person would have not wanted validation from strangers, weird ones at that. If you know this better person, please tell him he sucks.
So I went down the same path as many hacks before me and took aim. If the conversation was currently in the dark basement of civility, I was heading for the outhouse. At first I tried to stay at least on target with the topics. I was still presenting ideas I believed in, albeit in more colorful fashion. I started slowly, just a few “idiots” sprinkled here and there, an occasional bad joke about someone’s screen name or heritage. The results were predictable; I was certainly getting more responses, as well as many more threats to my health and well being, as well as invitations to molest myself in various ways. Good times!
It got to the point where I no longer even cared what issue I was defending/attacking. I fully embraced the role of contrarian. In fact, I started ignoring the issues entirely and started to just insult the others leaving comments. Cleverness was abandoned. “Let me guess, you are over 70 years old? At least I’m going to live longer than you” or “You misspelled a word genius, try proof reading*” all the way down to “I think you smell and likely have lice.” It was by no means a glorious flame out, more like some animal trapped in a tar pit, slowly sinking…
*For anyone who has spotted the many misspelled words in this piece, please take a moment to enjoy the irony. Drink it in.
This went on for several weeks, when a funny thing happened. I discovered it just wasn’t as fun if my heart wasn’t in it. I might get off a rare funny line here or there, or sting someone with a pointed insult, but it got old pretty quick without any real meaning behind it. What all the letter writers and columnists realized much before I did was that earnestness sells a lot better than bullying. It’s a trait that gets mocked more than occasionally but, in the end, certainly makes for more enjoyable people. In the long run, I would trade all the snark for that.
There you go, my 1,800 word confession. Obviously, brevity is not my strong suit. I can’t say I have quit trolling through the comment boards cold turkey; it’s still entertaining to poke the bear occasionally. If you happen to be on the receiving end one of these days, just take a deep breath and realize I’m just trying to get a rise out of somebody. And by all means, don’t stop commenting; I have a lot of hours of work to kill.
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