I know I sound like a broken record, but that’s because I’m broken.
I remember growing up in the eighties and even though I was quite young when Pope John Paul II was shot or when John Lennon chose the wrong country to dwell in and died at the hands of a fan who shot him to death — I do recall the weightiness of those events after they transpired.
The facts of each case were impeccably delivered with a certain air of reverence as the evening news plowed away with earnest to deliver the somber details.
News magazines like Newsweek and Time magazine were staples in our household and each page enhanced my need to know more.
I also hoped that I would grow up to be a part of such a prestigious profession.
Well, I’m all grown up and so are you.
Social media has fucked us up so bad.
It is virtually impossible to walk away from the disaster zone filled with generic rumblings that have been carelessly packaged for the benefit of a crowd — that is eager and ready to initiate the clicks and retweets that will give the traffic boost we are all here to provide.
It’s so damn messy that it’s almost compulsory to take a short break in an effort to secure the mandated selfie of the day — while we patiently wait for supposed news outlets to get their shit together.
They make it so easy to drift off and away into the heaven of our own making.
A place where we stand looking into the bloody chaos that as direly urgent as it is — pales into comparison when it comes to finalizing our summer plans or calculating the distance we ran the morning after.
The images plastered like wall paper become confetti with each scroll and very soon we are adjust to the tyranny of the killers and the consequences of their victims.
BREAKING NEWS has become UNRELIABLE NEWS BUT RETWEET FOR NOW UNTIL THE REAL THING COMES ALONG.
And we do.
We do because that’s how we show that we fucking care. That this terrifying moment has been logged in as shitty and anyone who visits our page after we’ve been shot down by another deranged lunatic will see that we were socially conscious.
Because that’s the crux of social media. It’s to be social with the media and with the people who use the media and to propel the media that uses us.
There is no dignity in reporting.
There is no honor in the lives lost as a result of bewildering bigotry. There is no substance behind the stuff you share with the other 1,543 people who got there before you.
We are a numbers and click nation that rely on early morning selfies and afternoons on Instagram to get us through a relatively normal day.
Then, when the tough times roll around — we distantly acknowledge and then revert back to the practice of being our own best friend.
We are dazed and confused.
We are also over-stuffed and bursting at the seams as each news outlet shamelessly tries to outrank each other with the exact same strategy. Watching it unfold is actually hilarious. Even in the worst of times — a chuckle is necessitated.
Nothing. Matters. Anymore.
We are socially inept, bereft and incapacitated. We want to feel more but goddamn it how can we be in two emoticons at once.
We are the robots of the future in the flesh. Even The Terminator can’t exterminate us and this is because of all the wiring that it took to perfect our template.
I cried today and drank my tears. They were salty and fresh.