The Internet: A Fickle Bitch and a Flawed Fairytale

Let me tell you, folks, the internet is one fickled bitch. That’s right, a high-maintenance diva gracing our lives with promises of stardom while leaving most of us in the dust, gasping for attention like a fish out of water. Some are elevated to cyberspace delights, strutting their stuff in a digital spotlight, while the rest struggle year after year to be heard, begging for recognition with nothing but silence echoing back. It’s like screaming into the vacuum of space and hoping for a response from the universe.

The great promise of the internet was that it would serve up wealth for the masses—anyone could potentially walk away with a golden ticket if they played their cards right. But only a lucky few multi-billionaires rose from the chaotic fray of bits and bytes to stake their claim, leaving the rest of us floundering in the Sea of Humanity, liable to drown in our own insecurity. It’s a cruel trick, folks, and a hard lesson in the reality of the modern age.

Now, I’ve got some history to back me up here—my exploration into this web of digital madness dates back to 2006, long before the glittering age of AI. So don’t lay the blame on robots or algorithms; you can toss that right into a pit filled with your own East Coast snobbishness. What do they know about the struggle? They were born into the glimmer and glitz, thinking the internet just materialized to amuse them, like it was some cosmic gift to entertain every whim and fancy.

Let’s not forget about the Millennials. Each generation has its quirks, but these kids act as if the internet popped out of thin air for their enjoyment. And then you’ve got Gen Z and Gen Alpha—there they are, hanging on the antics of kids playing with toys, learning how to spend their parents’ money by watching Ryan pitch products like a seasoned salesman. Meanwhile, Millennials reminisced about Cat-Dog—an animated oddity that felt like something conjured from a child’s worst nightmare.

But corporate television? Oh, that’s a whole other story. We’ve reached a point where even the sisters who hit the screen for pennies can’t scrape together a living. Why? Because everyone’s busy streaming free skin flicks or tuning in for a quick giggle, all vying for a fleeting moment of fame. It’s like throwing a party and realizing no one bothered to show up—an empty room echoing with the sound of disappointment.

And then there’s WordPress.com, that charming little platform that stifles your viewership based on how deep your pockets are. It’s a scam in broad daylight—a perfect metaphor for this carnival of chaos we call the internet. It’s enough to make you question: who can you trust? It’s like the Gospels speak of casting pearls before swine; you tell your truth only to have it trampled by those who’d rather believe in rainbows and unicorns or conspiracies that would put the most imaginative horror films to shame.

Researching the truth feels like trying to bubble up in a boiling pot of misinformation—every ounce of legitimate knowledge gets mashed down until it becomes a slippery substance nobody recognizes anymore. Cream rises, then it gets churned, resulting in butter that you reckon is bad for you one minute and good for you the next. The medical conundrum? Don’t get me started—the third leading cause of death in the U.S. is medical misadventure, and yet we keep trusting doctors to steer us clear of the real monsters lurking in the shadows.

So here we are, living amidst the richest man on Earth, who pulls strings and shuts down investigations with the finesse of a magician. He wants to call it patriotism; I call it blind stupidity. The real ghouls are lurking in plain sight, and what do we do? We’d rather distract ourselves with tales of UFOs, vampires, and werewolves. Because who needs real monsters when we can conjure them from the depths of our imagination?

The internet is a fickle, twisted world, and it’s time we face it. It’s easy to get lost among the digital noise, finding solace in the bizarre while we ignore the truths staring us right in the face. But every click, every scroll, is a reminder that not all monsters wear scary masks—some wear the face of indifference, hiding in the bright lights of the screen. And as we venture forward into this uncharted territory, let’s remember to keep our eyes open and our wits about us, because in this digital age, the real stories worth telling often remain buried in the shadows.