ur internet iz dead
At some point over the last several months, I came to the abrupt realization that I had experienced every last joy that the internet had to offer. I had lost track of all the hip websites that I’d been to and the accounts I’d created. For a while my browsing habits were so cutting edge that I became convinced that the path to salvation was paved with rounded typefaces and missing vowels.
Yet without much fanfare or sense of loss, I have come to the obvious realization that, like Jack’s magic beans, the promise of Web 2.0 has been vastly overstated. And while I had never been overcome by the evangelical pronouncements gushing forth from the visionaries in San Francisco, and remained somewhat skeptical about the prospects of a true digital revolution, I still placed considerable faith in the belief that, at the very least, things would be much different.
Alas, the seeds of Web 2.0 have yet to grow, and I highly suspect they never will. The beacons of Web 2.0 (unfettered self-expression, useful social networks, a never-ending supply of rich media content) have all proven to be much dimmer than they first appeared. We have ridden high on the waves of inflated expectations, only to slip low into the trough of a much bleaker reality. We interact for the sake of interacting; our status updates becoming increasingly cynical and despondent.
Another healthy dose of venture capital notwithstanding, the Web 2.0 revolution is bound to stall, with its endless parade of novelties exposed as not just trivial, but borderline retarded. In a word, the internet has gotten boring.
I can not pinpoint with any accuracy exactly how or when I arrived at this pessimistic assessment. I suspect that it roughly coincides with the moment when Chris Crocker dared to harness the mystical powers of YouTube, and for his noble efforts was rewarded with upwards of 80,000 curious subscribers. Like moths to the fire, we found ourselves inexplicably drawn to a decidedly surreal, Britney-fuelled meltdown that cracked the ever-elusive 15 million viewer mark with horrifying ease.
What makes Crocker’s meteoric rise to fame so extraordinary is that with little more than a tube of mascara, some alligator tears, and a steadfast commitment to shoddy production values, Crocker accomplished a level of viral success previously reserved for only the most loathsome of characters: fledgling actors with a webcam and a gimmick, teenage girls with intricately choreographed lip-dubs that offend my simple tastes, and captive monkeys trained in all manners of song [forthcoming].
It is with great sadness that I am forced to acknowledge that a society that has willingly subjected itself to Chris Crocker is a society that is blissfully prepared to endure every sort of depravity.
The sheer banality and stupidly that plagues YouTube (one of the so-called “successes” of the Web 2.0 movement) is by no means confined there. Whenever I visit Digg, Metacafe, or the unrepentant bastion of communism and conspiracy that is Reddit, I am quickly overcome by an odd mixture of incredulity, exhaustion, and indescribable malaise.
I have finally realized why every new social bookmarking upstart is such an unmitigated disaster, and that is because it’s the same 4000 fanboys and lowlifes who upload the majority of the content and, by virtue of their anonymity, feel compelled to provide the enlightened commentary that goes along with it.
Never before have so many people had so little to say and (god help us all) never before have they been so insistent on saying it. Ironically enough, however, even though most of us acknowledge this, we continue listening in spite of ourselves. It is as though we are waiting to hear something—anything!—that can atone for all of the sins of the internet, among them spam and porn, Gizmodo and Robert Scoble.
Among the digerati, there is a consistent tendency to overestimate the phenomenon of social networking. While social networking indeed represents a significant mutation in human interactions, this is a long way from saying that sociality has been reinvented. Yet such is the utopian vision being evangelized by the prophets of Web 2.0, who, truth be told, have enough stock options on the line that they cannot help but take their fantasies for reality.
Our dreams of a seamlessly-connected and fully-interactive future remain credible only to the extent that the disappointments of yesterday are summarily dismissed and forgotten. If we are to avoid the pitfalls of masturbatory self-indulgence and mindless cheerleading, we must reserve a healthy dose of skepticism for the websites that would compete for our time and our talent, to say little of the fools who bankroll them.
