Things the Internet Killed

If I had to choose one buzzword from the past few years to be made illegal (Ron Paul civil libertarians, bring it on) from use, it wouldn’t be “Brangelina.” It wouldn’t even be “Integrated Marketing Communications.” It would, most certainly, be “armchair activism.”

First of all, there is nothing active about being in an armchair. Great. You believe in something. We get it. But how does commenting on various political or cause-focused blogs and media outlets advance your passions? I’ll give you a hint: it doesn’t.

People used to get naked and protest fur. They used to march through the streets for civil rights. They used to burn SUVs to, well, we assume something environmental, but most of those folks are crazy.

Now, though? Now, we all just sit in the comfort of our pachouli-scented bedrooms and spew vitriol left and right through the blogosphere. There was a time when the “netroots” were seen as the new game in activism. It was a new and emerging field, and had the potential to reach hundreds, thousands, even millions of people (ask Ron Paul).

Unfortunately, though, armchair activism is still not activism. It still does not reach Joe Voter or Sally I’ll-Give-To-A-Cause-Because-I-Can-Tell-My-Book-Club-Friends-How-Selfless-I-Am in nearly the volume, depth, and effectiveness of canvassing door-to-door or phonebanking. Netroots activism just doesn’t bring in support or votes (ask Ron Paul).

What armchair activism actually accomplishes is providing lazy, passionate people with a vehicle to shout at each other about this or that while not actually having to speak with anyone or defend a position. It’s just mental masturbation till the end, and kids in Africa are still starving. Hope you’re proud of yourself, Digger.

“Why don’t you come over and I’ll show you the pictures we took on our trip to Chile!”

“Why don’t you put them up on your MySpace and I’ll stay here in my underwear, eating Fritos, and I’ll glance over a couple, comment on one, and you’ll feel like I truly appreciated your incredible experience.”

Growing up, I always hated being subjected to flipping through picture after picture after picture handed to me by a friend of my mother’s, my grandparents, other relatives, and even kids at school. But then came the Interwebs, allowing all of us to post photos online with sites like Flickr and my favorite, the Facebooks.

Not only does this wonderful Superhighway free us from the sagging couch prison of photo-sharing, it also lets us seem to care, while not putting in a lick of effort. Rather than sitting through a seemingly endless presentation of 35mm photos, we can now glance over 12 on a page, clicking on those that show someone shirtless or gesturing inappropriately.  Additionally, we can then comment on one or two of the photos with phrases like, “Wow, what a beautiful view! Looks like you and Tom had a great trip!” or “Is that the St. Marks Cathedral behind you there? Did you get to go inside?” The latter, offering a question, will also make your friends and relatives feel special, because not only are you interested in hearing about their boring trip, but they also now have an opportunity to utilize the information from the travel guide to show how much their horizons were broadened during their two weeks in Prague.

So say goodbye to those little envelopes at Costco, because papa’s got a brand new photoblog.

Who says I didn’t spend four years as a supervisor at MultiCorp. International? Oh wait, my Facebook page that prominently features pictures of me drinking with my friends and swimming in a lake, and shows current employment at Quizno’s. Employers read this stuff now. Thanks, Internet.

We used to be able to fudge some details, boost the ol’ GPA, and throw on some additional community service work just to make ourselves stand out that much more. But now, with the wonders of the MySpaces and the Facebooks, we have our personal lives broadcast to the world, largely thanks to the photographs and wall posts of our friends. So I suppose maybe it’s not the Internet’s fault that I have moron friends who post things like “Let’s get our drunk on this Friday, douchebag!” on my social networking page, but it is indeed the Internet’s fault that potential employers and family friends have immediate access to that.

Now these sites all have privacy controls that you can set so only your “friends” can see your profile, but how can you deny online friendship to your aunt’s director-of-HR-at-big-company friend?

Or as my grandmother called them, “funny papers.”

Sure, the Internet helped existing comic strips gain exposure through online placement, but who the hell wants to read Cathy on the fucking Internet?!

The web opened us all up to the worlds of Penny Arcade (for the nerds) and a million other webcomics that are funnier and better drawn than anything in the newspaper. Plus, you don’t have to struggle folding a stupid newspaper when you’re reading webcomics on your laptop. It’s only a matter of time till real comics go the way of the buffalo. Sorry, Dilbert.

Back in the good ol’ days, when a young man or woman started to become curious about the birds and the bees, that particular adolescent would turn to one of two places: the locker room, where an undiscerning ear could yield a bountiful harvest of war stories, tips, tricks, and grievances; or a parent, who could offer the wisdom of twenty to thirty years of a loveless marriage, which often left the fruit of their loins confused, scared, and sometimes nymphomaniacal.

But in this day of the Information Interstate, kids no longer have to have discussions about sex. They can Google it and get more hits than probably any other topic ever searched on the Internet. In doing so, our future are exposed to some of the most hardcore and low-cost pornography available.

Let me stop there to clarify. There is a difference between DVD porn and Internet porn. In fact, DVDs and VHS tapes of porn fall into another category of things the Internet killed. The distinction that needs to be made is that DVD porn usually contains plot lines, some sort of script, a soundtrack, and attempts at proper lighting and production. Internet porn is crass, uncouth, and all about showing everything as blatantly as possible.

That’s where we’re steering our youth wrong. Pornography is the filming of actors having sex. Internet pornography is the low-quality filming of bad actors having bad sex. My fear now is that we, through free and widely accessible smut, are breeding an entire generation of terrible lovers. Foreplay? Forget about it. A little nibble on the earlobe? Replaced by a quick slap on the rear. This is where we’re headed, people. A whole lot of legal adults, many years younger than us, that are going to be just awful in bed. What’s the point of having an affair with a much younger person if the sex will be bad? You can thank the Internet for that.

If you’re over the age of 30, you may remember a time when, after graduating from college, you started sending letters to old family friends, former employers, and even high school teachers to see if anyone could get you a job in your field (maybe you should have rethought that philosophy degree, after all). Sending out hundreds of branches in hundreds of directions, you were still left rifling through the Help Wanted ads in the newspaper and dropping off your resume at every deli in the neighborhood.

But kids today finish school with thousands of “contacts” in a seemingly endless array of careers. Through the MySpaces and the Facebooks, college students can remain in contact with their peers, classmates, and co-workers. As if these websites weren’t insufferable enough, grown-ups then decided to create their own versions of these social networking abominations through communities like LinkedIn and Naymz. These MySpace-for-adults (not in that way, perv) sites allow you to upload your resume, show your connections, and even garner e-recommendations to tout before some unseen, Internet-trolling potential employer.

There’s a common watershed used in sociological circles these days, referring to the death of bowling leagues in this country. Back in the golden days of communist infiltration and Jim Crow laws, white suburbanites all belonged to bowling leagues (apparently they could afford nice Chevys, but couldn’t afford Wii Sports). These social gatherings were a regular, scheduled time of good cheer and socialization. However, there was at some point an introverted shift where people no longer socialized in such organized ways. People began to bowl alone.

Then the Internet came along, and now everyone has a chance to show off how many friends and business connections he or she has simply by creating an online profile! Plus, you can usually blog about your latest ponderings, and stream a song that matches your mood. These easy ways to socialize and network without having to actually talk to people are incredibly attractive options of getting what you want out of people without having to listen to their bullshit.

So the next time you’re out to coffee with your dad’s old law partner, and you completely zone out while he or she continues to drone on and on about taking the dogs camping or which brand of lawn fertilizer will really get that green vibrance, just remember: you could be watching porn in your underwear and advancing your career just as much.

I’ve been listening to music for all of my life. Literally. I’m almost certain that some ’60s rock song was playing on my dad’s car radio coming home from the hospital. I grew up on the Beatles, the Who, Cat Stevens, and the other stuff that revolutionaries-turned-accountants play for their kids in suburban America.

Eventually, I began finding my own sound and got into a more current music scene through the radio. I loved ’90s alternative rock, and I used to mark down on the calendar when the new Smashing Pumpkins or Radiohead album was set to drop. That particular Tuesday would be like Christmas and Veterans’ Day all rolled into one. I’d be all excited, running down to the mall with a pocket full of cash, ready to hear the other eleven songs on an album I’d been expecting after hearing the single on the radio a month earlier. Finally, I had access to the well-hidden new sounds of whichever artist. It was great.

Now, however, I get my music from torrent sites, even some that are invite-only. The benefit of this is that every album now leaks online months before its release date. The disparities between how I get music now and how I did fifteen years ago are vast and span the factors of cost, date available, and especially method. The Internet allows you to get an album you want, free of charge, months before it comes out! What could be better than that!?

Now some of the Morality Police are bound to wind up here and call me out for harming musicians, but here’s the deal: artists on major labels make 10-12 % on any record purchase on CD. They make 8-10% on an iTunes download. So stop fooling yourself into self-righteousness by downloading the “legal” way. In this case, unfortunately, the “legal” way is also the “screwjob” way.

Here’s a lesson on changing with the times. CDs are no longer profitable for musicians. Bands like Radiohead and Bomb! The Music Industry have figured this out and are offering music for free on their websites. To adapt to this, download all the damn music you want for free, and then go see an artist live. Musicians make their real money from touring. Or, rather than supporting the hegemony of the recording industry, download an artist’s album, then send him/her/them a nice letter and a donation that can go 100% into their pockets.

So, I’ve only ever been on one (1) blind date. It was awful. I was in college, and I had a friend (a humanities major….go figure) who insisted that her good friend from high school and I would really hit it off. Apparently, we shared many musical and literary tastes, and I was informed that our senses of humor were spot-on.

I was misled. The other side of the equation was good-looking, but her personality was abrasive and she listened to the well-known, mainstream versions of all the obscure indie bands I was a fan of (in my college music elitist days, that was an immediate dealbreaker: “Oh. You like Pavement? Right, then.”). The evening wasn’t terrible; we went for dinner and then a cup of tea at a great teahouse, although the conversation was dull and I never called her again. C’est la vie.

Since then, I have never been so lonely or unable to get a date that I’ve agreed to go on one. Apparently, though, neither has anyone else! The Internet ended the blind dating game! People don’t agree to go out with friends of friends anymore. When someone is having trouble meeting people these days, they turn to websites like EHarmony and JewDate to find equally desperate peers looking for a little lovin’ as well.

The benefits of this kind of blind dating are obvious: you get to see a picture of the person, which is an immediate plus, despite the fact that most folks take seven hundred photos of themselves, then sort out any that show that mole or that roll of neck fat. We call these people Secret Internet Fatties (SIFs) and they abound on forums, social networking sites, and especially online dating communities. If you are turning to the Internet for love, don’t be fooled by these clever, but unattractive and deceptive, liars.

Anyway, there are other benefits of scoping out a profile written by someone rather than taking a friend’s word for it. For instance, I’m immediately turned off by poor grammar and spelling. If I were to read, “I’m a really fun girl whom just loves to party, but I dont loose my temper easy and I’m really out-going,” I’d be turning back to Internet porn. However, in taking a mutual friend’s description, as in a blind date setup, you are immediately putting yourself at the mercy of that friend, a person that has a blatantly favorable bias toward your impending snoozefest of a hideous date.

This is increasingly dangerous with friends who are in longterm relationships, because they are often so desperate for other couples to go out with in big, couples-only groups, they’ll say anything to put two friends together on a blind date. Online dating removes that element, allowing you to find a perfect match for your lonely heart and touchy-feely hands.

Remember when you needed to keep small parts together or needed something tiny kept airtight? Film canisters were the go-to for folks from all walks of life. Moms could turn to the leftover film canisters from the sentimental photographs taken of memorable events like piano recitals and camping trips (photographs that were then labeled, sorted chronologically, and then never viewed again) into a neat little carrying case for earrings, earplugs, and a variety of other ear-related accessories. These little black (sometimes clear) cylinders were the perfect containers for small parts from the really dangerous (and most fun) childrens’ toys.

College stoners soon discovered they could use the airtight little cases to hold that emergency nugget of marijuana that they might need after that midterm or during band practice (”We’re kind of like the Stone Roses with more of a dance-y sound, with some elements of Elliott Smith and Joy Division!”). Being airtight, film canisters became the quintessential accessory for the dazed-yet-thrifty of America’s college towns.

Film canisters had a million uses! But then, the Internet came, and brought along with it things like digital photography and photo-sharing sites like Flickr and the Facebooks. People no longer have to develop film, and I’d reckon that many of today’s junior high students couldn’t even tell you how to load film into a 35mm camera. As a result, the film canister has become obsolete, and its millions of uses are now filled by other objects.

This Internet casualty is deeply troubling, as we no longer have a secure place to keep our spices, our carefully and compulsively color-sorted jelly beans, or our little beads to wrap in hemp after we smoke that last bit of weed from that film canister.