What’s Killing The Video Star?

The tech ghouls don’t know me like they once did. Despite my attempts to coax the algorithmic overlords away from suggesting interview shows that oscillate between erstwhile D-list comedians, drugged-out rap newbies spilling eyewitness testimonies to be used at a court date to be named later, sanitized self-produced NBA mini documentaries, and whatever Anthony Fantano has to say, the bile of those who believe they’re more interesting than they really are still ends up populating my feed. To be online is to be surrounded this sludge and its creators; the same grifters whose profile photos cause your stomach to flip, shadowy clip farmers, the overpowering number of bots astroturfing engagement, and the casual scrollers who have too many real problems to think critically about what from these spaces aren’t worthy of their frustration. The internet can never die, but its parts can be zombified, infecting everyone that comes near them with a pathogen of rage and despair.