![]() ![]() He does what he does: he gets mad online, usually about something he saw on TV, and spawns a conflict. It's useless to get into the perennial discussion of whether he knows what he's doing-that it's strategic-or if he's just acting out of impulse. It doesn't help, of course, that the platform is now dominated by a President of the United States who is obsessed with it, and with generating an outsize share of that anger and conflict. And then there's everyone who's profiting from the anger. Then there are the people who aren't people at all. It's immediate exposure to everything that's wrong with the world, and everyone who's mad about it, and everyone who's mad at them because they think the mad people are mad about the wrong thing, or they're blaming the wrong person. But when you jump back in, you can feel the generalized anxiety splash on you and start to gather around your ankles. You get used to the explosive flow of information, and anything else feels like a shower with bad water pressure. It might be an oven, but it's also a firehose. Occasionally, though, my addiction to the stimulus would kick in. I tried to stay off Twitter for the last four days or so, across the long weekend and Tuesday. There are some celebrities, there's there are sub-communities that are largely self-contained and probably have a decent time, and then there's everyone else screaming at each other constantly-including some of those celebrities. He was describing the general tone of simmering anger and burning conflict that seems to infuse around 85 percent of the messages on the platform. Flip open the hatch and position your face for the wave of heat. ![]() An old editor of mine once described the experience of getting back on Twitter after a week's vacation as opening the door of a furnace. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |