Arguing with Strangers on the Internet

Life is short. Expend it wisely.

Imagine you were handed the devastating news that you only had two weeks to live. What would you do with that time?

Would you spend every moment of it in the cherished embrace of loved ones? Would you drown your sorrows in an assorted chemical haze? Or would you perhaps head off on a mad bucket list tour, utterly reckless in the face of that word’s sudden and total collapse of meaning?

I’d wager that of the near-endless possible responses to such an ultimate crisis, few would opt to spend their final days exchanging angry barbs with complete strangers on the Internet. What would be the point?

Indeed, that cuts straight to the heart of it, for what, really, is the point? Are we not all equally under a death sentence from the very moment we emerge into life naked and screaming and covered in slime? Must its end be imminent in order for us to appreciate its irreplaceable preciousness?

Early 21st-century society is a strange one. It’s one where it’s considered perfectly normal to ignore your kids, ignore your fellow passengers on the train or your fellow bar patron on the stool next to you; a world where you can blissfully ignore beautiful scenery passing by your window, or even an open manhole directly in your path, all for the sake of staring into a funny little rectangle of colorful, flickering images.

Is this what six million years of hominid evolution prepared us for? Is this why Solon laid down his noble laws or Socrates his very life? Is this why Phidias crafted his masterpieces in marble or Homer his immortal epics in verse?

Surely, one might assume, one might hope, humanity has traded its attention and equanimity for something equally as noble and useful as that endeavored by these ancient paragons of civilization. Surely, that must be the case. Right?

But alas.

As far as I can gather, the primary purpose of all this enervating time spent on the Internet is simply bitching — either crafting it, propagating it, or reveling in it. But to what end?

Does it make people happy? Does it spread peace or joy? Does it cure illness? Does it alleviate despair?

I think, if anything, this addiction to bitching is a symptom of a profound crisis of meaning; a societal malaise brought on by modern life’s banality and pointlessness, by humanity’s overcrowding and overpreaching, by too many rules and too little fun, too many existential crises yet too little personal excitement.

Yet for all that, the solutions are remarkably simple. Put down your phone and turn off the TV. Pick up a book. Play a board game with your kids. Take a walk in the woods. Call up a buddy and meet her for a drink or three. Hell, even staring at a blank wall is a more productive way to pass the time. (Literally. Studies have shown how a lack of external stimulation can spur creativity as your mind rebels at boredom).

I’m not here to tell anyone how they ought to live their life. If that’s your jam, there are no shortage of folks more than happy to tell you all the ways you’re a terrible human being, or all the ways to achieve glamor and riches effortlessly, starting at the low, low price of your soul and your sanity.

So, go ahead. Do your thing. As a favorite meme I saw notes, “Life is short. Be sure to spend as much of it as possible arguing with strangers on the Internet.” You can even start with this one if you’d like.

But if I don’t reply right away, please don’t take it personally. It’s simply because I have a life — and a real one at that. And who knows, with a bit of effort and a bit less animosity, perhaps you can as well. After all, what have you got to lose?

Colby Hess is a freelance writer and photographer from Seattle, and author of the freethinker children’s book The Stranger of Wigglesworth.

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