The Great Internet Experiment Is Over (Please?)

They always say that you don’t know how you’ll react in a particular situation until it happens. That sounds about right. No one can truly understand the weightlessness of the once impossibly heavy gun in one’s hand when it only has one bullet left in it and the roving gang of cannibals has heard your boy’s gentle cough in the ditch alongside the ash-covered highway until one is sitting in that damp ditch with actual feces in one’s beard and that paper gun in one’s gnarled hand, one’s heart beating like a bass drum in one’s permanently aching head. Will you put the gun in your mouth, or the boy’s? You know, stuff like that. Who knows?! Would you rather?! But sometimes you do know how you would react in a situation, because that situation has occurred, and you have reacted, and in those cases, it’s important to analyze the results, and make smart decisions about how to proceed. So, for example, after the boy is dead because you’d rather see him lifeless in a greasy ditch than breathing but eye-dead in the back of the cannibals’ truck, then you know that in this situation you would kill your boy, and that you wouldn’t regret it other than a general human regret over the Whole Thing. And if you ever found yourself in another Apocalyptic wasteland with another boy, you could act accordingly.

Similarly, while we might not have known at some point in the past how we would all react to having an open network of worldwide communication with video capabilities, because such a thing did not exist, now that it does exist, we do know how we would react, which is that we would create videos of ourselves dancing in our underwear with a cape tied around our neck, proclaiming ourselves to be “Da Booty Hitta,” which is why we need to shut it all down. In this instance, let’s save the boy and shoot ourselves. It’s actually a pretty comfortable ditch when you think about it, and we’re tired of walking.

More? More.

Enough. We tried. We failed. Have at it, plants. (“Thanks” for the tip, Drew.)