Why “Fake News” is a Bloated Oxymoron that Feeds the News Feed that was Always Fake
So, after America elected the most disgusting contender ever to throw his hat into the ring — it finally dawns on us that the shit we read with little effort is in fact a recycled version of what actually transpired.
I quit Facebook some months ago.
The reason for my resignation stemmed from a page that housed meaningless jargon from people that mean a lot to me and people that I don’t know who want to mean something to me.
There was also the random news feed that annoyed more than entertained. Some of it was at least two years old and yet, friends would post it as if it happened just yesterday. The death of a celeb who’s demise had already been celebrated ten-months ago. A headline ushering the impact of a new situation that doesn’t quite assemble the strobe lights of reason with a one-time glare — even when the number of likes threaten to exceed your best laid plans to evacuate. The subtle but blurry letters that form sentences that seem fantastical in delivery but in a world where selfies dictate job prospects — it’s hard to belittle the importance of what the internet that used to be the Internet can offer — and so you share like a purposed user who resists the one user friendly human that tries to dash all your hopes.
Fake news is a funny expression that gave me my first laugh some weeks ago.
Since when was news anything but a series of codes that are computed to numb the senses into submission — despite the hard work of investigative journalists that are consistently drowning in the funk of readers who absolutely can’t stand the truth.
You think supply and demand is just for traders? Think again.
We get what we get because we deserve it.
Most of us knew that Donald Trump would win. The numbers never lie that’s why scientists and mathematicians have great sex and never fight. You were lost in transition while hoping for an end game that would mimic what CNN and other wasted stations with broken satellites seemed to have coerced from the antlers of your need.
There was never any indication that Clinton was maintaining a safe enough distance to guarantee her imminent victory. And yet you believed. You actually maintained this debilitating façade in public to propel your social graces.
I could never take it. I grew up in an era where you had to touch the news and manually switch pages in order to keep up. Sometimes the pages were missing and I would have to listen in on conversations amongst well-informed adults to catch what I was missing.
Before I was a teenager I was aware of When The Music Died, and how Anwar Sadat bit the bullet for nothing and why Pope John II manipulated the hand of God to become God.
It was the 80’s!
I joke about that era with unabashed nostalgia and its usually all about the music and the heartthrobs that are miraculously still heartthrobs with no evidence that they reigned at a time when I was too young to think such sick thoughts.
But, growing up with a mother who worked at The Nigerian Television Authority and being around family members that had it so good when it came to news consumption and still demanded more — gave me insight into what makes reporting a sacred venture that can’t be reduced to the beams that light up whenever clicks and likes beg for attention.
Consumers can’t blame the media and the media can’t blame the blinding climate that asks for nothing more than to comprehend how Khloe Kardashian’s ass surpasses Nicki Minaj’s ass without any hint of cheating.
We are okay with shit like People magazine — the staple of why people like you hate people like me — availing us with useless rhetoric about how and why Kanye West is too fabulous to be mentally ill for longer than necessary because his Reality TV persona demands that he doesn’t remain a buzzkill for the sake of our fragile incoherence.
Such blatant irresponsibility signifies why we can’t declare the victimhood that comes with being betrayed by the web. The web didn’t douse your faith in what so many of us pledged would be the word regardless of how the social flow delivers.
You watch Real Housewives and you think that the cast of Love & Hip-Hop deserve Emmys. You got to bed with a smile on your face when your last image is the ranking of your superiority that seems to be increasing with little effort. You can debate the ball buster of the day with the aid of equipment that speaks for itself so you don’t have to.
What did you expect?
You really think fake news is a thing or do you know deep down inside that news is an in depth analysis of subjects that seem insurmountable — but become capable through the wrings of able-minded investigators — who tell you all the time why people like Donald Trump will always find a way to win the hearts of those who believe that fake news is fake news.
Stop being fake. Stop being lazy fucks. Stop being fake.