Slaying the keyboard warrior

Jay Dykes. Photo by Lianna Hubbard

By Jay Dykes

To say the internet is an unhappy place might be the criminal understatement. Thanks to the infinite wealth of angry human stupidity, gone are the days when we went online to play games and fill chatrooms with idle conversation.

Every digital corner is marred by the stain of effervescent discontent, only further fueled by monitors’ and usernames’ protective anonymity. When no one can be held accountable for their actions, that’s when the inner-held demons are let out to play amongst the dumpster fire of modern comment sections.

Why’ve we lowered ourselves to feeble pursuits? Who wins in a Facebook-arbitrated pissing contest? Only Facebook.

What’re we trying to prove by arguing at length on a subject no one cares about, to a person who already made a decision, on a site written off as objectively void of informed intelligent thought?

I’ve no clue that isn’t, in itself, speculation. The truest of relative accuracy being: in life there are few universal truths.

There’s good, bad, and human beings have an irrational need to feel they, and what they do, matters.

It’s an endorphin-boosting dopamine rush to feel you showed them, they know their place now. “I’m the better for being the model post-modern, woke millennial.”

These unconscious thoughts are the most impressively vain, impulsively unoriginal, perceptively incognizant fakakta that might define our generation. I get every generation thinks it’s new, culturally original, and thinks it’s somehow sticking the system with their enlightened way of doing things, and responds to criticism with “if you don’t get it, you’re too old.”

We’re not enlightened, far from original, and barely contribute to jack let alone stick the system on anything. Anyone can change the world. Few people do. Shouting your opinions in echo chambers galvanized by cognitive dissonance does nothing for no one. Even more so, if said opinion is uninformed and bereft of critical thought.

Your mommy may think you’re special, but to the world at large you contribute nothing. No one will care unless you eventually start speaking softly and carrying a large stick.

There was a holding practice that polite conversation didn’t include politics or religion. When it did, we disagreed with our fellow man and still loved them at the end of the day.

Life is hard enough, particularly when lacking empathy and are unable to approach a subject in another person’s shoes. Why make it harder than it needs to be?

Why be so filled with hate and insecurity, so desperately in need of a friggin’ hug and a juice box, that the only way you feel better about yourself is by taking out your problems on the world around you?

Next time you feel the need to shoot someone down on the internet, do the world a favor, don’t put on your digital ski mask and unabashedly sour someone else’s milk with your overcompensating urge to make them just as miserable as you.

Take a breath, use the restroom, eat a snack, listen to some music, and IGNORE YOUR TRANSGRESSORS. You accomplish NOTHING by perpetuating the planets bottomless well of butt hurt internet trolls. Rise above. Be the better person.

Or don’t. I’m an underslept, overstressed college journalist, with strong sometimes hypocritical, opinions who’s self-important enough to think he’ll make a difference one reader at a time. Not a cop. Do what you want. 

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