Chronically Online
In which we take a brief detour to be disappointed in a large number of people.
Damn. What a month, right? I don’t want to go too long on this, but I need to get it out there.
For a 44-year-old man, I am on the internet far too much. I think it’s what the media writers call “Chronically Online.” I’ve tried to change my ways, but being online is very fun. It’s a great way to kill time and alleviate boredom. I rarely post, but I have accounts on literally every social media app. Even if I have no intention of using the platform (i.e. Spoutible), I still try to get the same username. I did not succeed in doing that on TikTok, because I avoided it for as long as I could.
Twitter is my absolute favorite social media app that’s ever been invented. It’s weird how much a lot of people owe to Twitter, myself included. I got a marketing job because the guy running the company found my account, thought it was funny and hired me to work for him. The editors at SLUG and City Weekly (local SLC papers) saw some of my Tweets and encouraged me to use more of that voice in the writing I was doing for them. I’ve met people I never would have otherwise, formed cool relationships, done more through that site than I ever thought was possible. In its heyday—basically 2016 until the day that Elon bought it—Twitter was the most fun you could have online. It’s pure garbage now, but in a way, that’s made the past couple of weeks easier.
I’ve had a bad feeling about this year for more than a month now, so around 11am on Election Day, I stopped looking at the internet altogether. I kept my head down at work, and put my phone on Do Not Disturb when I got home. I made dinner and watched about four episodes of BREAKING BAD before going to sleep around 11pm.
Whatever was going to happen would be out of my control, and I didn’t want to watch any of the results in real time. I did that in 2016 and I had a stomach ache for like three days afterwards. I went to sleep hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst.
Around 1:30am, a loud BANG! woke me up. Someone was lighting off fireworks in my neighborhood. That’s when I knew. You’ve got to be a real asshole to save fireworks for four months in the hopes of celebrating election results, and there’s only one group I could think of that might do that. I spent a few minutes lying in bed thinking, took a few deep breaths, and fell back asleep. I slept soundly through the night. At least I knew.
“TRUMP RETAKES POWER” was the headline when I opened my computer the next morning. I read a few things, doom scrolled through Twitter, looked at Instagram, still stayed away from Facebook.
There’s a pretty long list of where things went wrong, why no one tried to course correct, and how wild it is that no one within the Democratic party has learned a single lesson over the past 8 years. You can find someone smarter than me going deeper on those topics elsewhere on the internet if you want to. The only thing I’ll say here is this: Dick Cheney? Are you fucking kidding me?
Moving on.
I spent about an hour that morning reading various articles, then checked in on the senate, house, and local races. After I absorbed it all, I reaffirmed that there was nothing I could do besides commit to being there for the people that might need help going forward. I bought some things that might be pretty hard to get come January, and as of right now when I’m writing this (Thursday, November 14 at 10pm), it looks like I need to make sure I’m up to date on any necessary vaccinations, too.
So here we are, barrelling towards a Christian Nationalist future with the dumbest, worst people running the show, while a bunch of other idiots stand around telling reporters that they’re “concerned” about the way things are going. Those people are just as bad, because they’re more worried about what breaking norms might look like to the New York Times editorial board instead of trying to stop the inevitable. Meanwhile, the new regime is routinely inventing new ways to make the rest of us say “What the fuck?” out loud several times a day.
Which brings me to the real reason we’re here today, and that is to remind you that no one in any position of power actually cares about you. They care about furthering their own interests, lining their own pockets, and having power to gain more of it. That’s all. You, me, and everyone we know means nothing to them. Unless you know someone that’s SUPER rich. They definitely care about that person. But they do not care about us.
And to remind you of that, I made you this playlist. I’m going to keep adding to it as I think of more songs, but for now this is a good place to start. Whenever things look bad, bleak, or depressing, music is what helps me. I don’t want to hear from anyone at The Lincoln Project or the Hashtag NeverTrump people who are thrilled about what happened so they can continue collecting money to post on Twitter about how mad they are. I also have no desire to listen to any of the Pod Save America bros (I muted every one of those guys months ago) talk about what Obama would have done 12 years ago, either.
Right now, I want to be a little bit pissed off. I want to be a little bit radicalized. I’m gearing up for ANDOR season 2 to get more inspiration on what an actual rebellion looks like. I’ll also probably rewatch Alex Garland’s CIVIL WAR this week, to see a glimpse of what might be. But before those, I’m going to start by finding the most pissed off musicians I can, and let them be my soundtrack for the next little while.
Feel free to join me.
I’ll be back to my (irregularly scheduled) regular bullshit later.