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Trying to check out of the virtual Hotel California

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Help: The home page of deputy editor Max Stainkamph's time sink, also known as a mobile telephone.

I no longer like the internet.

More than that, I realise I have been trapped, ensnared, by a systematic mechanism designed to steal my eyeballs’ attention for as many waking moments as possible.

I was talking about this with friends recently, and while we decided one of them spends more time scrolling than I do, and is more “online” — understanding the weird zeitgeist, which changes hourly — I suffer more for the time I spend on the information superhighway.

The world wide web pains me now, dear reader.

Of course, when I say internet, I mean the eight or so websites where we all spend most of our time (sheppnews.com.au being an obvious exception, and no doubt you’d all agree it’s an excellent website worthy of a subscription).

Part of this is no doubt due to me ageing, with the internet always a place driven by its youngest and most enthusiastic users, who are always on the cutting edge of what’s cool and zany and hip.

I used to be ‘with it’ — cool and zany and hip —, then they changed what ‘it’ was, and now what ‘it’ is is strange and confusing to me.

But I can cope with not being ‘with it’ — what I’m struggling with is the oxygen suddenly being choked out of some of the major waterways of the internet.

Twitter, which I always thought was kind of neat, has had bizarre changes to its algorithm — with more on the way thanks to eccentric owner Elon Musk — which is throwing more and more divisive and inflammatory content towards my eyeballs.

Facebook, which I’ve long since hated, is still awful for anyone under the age of 40, and is now squirrelling billions upon billions of dollars into the Metaverse — basically Tron populated with Wii characters, but used for work, which looks awful.

Instagram is full of posts from people during their best moments and never their worst.

I could go on, but as these platforms realise they’ve reached every single person on the planet they’re able to — there are three billion Facebook accounts floating around — they’re trying to maximise eyeball time on sites.

And, for most of them, that involves throwing as much enraging content at eyeballs as possible.

bUt yOu dO iT tOo — yes, yes, the media is guilty.

At the News we try to be more restrained with our online presence, instead of ‘pouring fuel on to the outrage fire’ sites such as Sky News and Junkee.

But they do it because that’s how to game the algorithm — how to get clicks, eyeballs and money with which journalists can feed their families. (Did I mention how good a deal subscribing to sheppnews.com.au is?)

Similarly, Google search result pages are reams of search engine-optimised websites, which don’t provide any actual content or get you the information you’re looking for.

Additionally, every app seems to be trying to turn into TikTok, with Instagram experimenting with more video-heavy platforms, YouTube leaning into YouTube shorts, and even Spotify flagging that it wants to have a TikTok-like news feed.

Having now spent time on TikTok, after needing it for work (you should follow the News TikTok account if you’re unfortunate enough to have the app), I’ve found myself falling into the algorithm.

It’s unfulfilling and frustrating, but I’m entirely unable to stop scrolling.

I recognise that much of this is a ‘me’ problem, and it ‘sucks to suck’, and maybe if you hadn’t spent so many of your formative years scrolling through memes that have poisoned your brain then maybe you wouldn’t be having these problems, Max, you useless muppet.

But also, we’ve made glueing eyeballs to phone screens into such an exact science that I finally feel like a hamster running in a wheel, not actually generating anything of value.

We’ve optimised the scrolling-industrial complex to squeeze all the juice possible out of the meatbags (you and me) who use it.

Instead of sliding into a little scroll after work as a treat, the relentless grind has become a chore, and, having robbed me of the attention span necessary to read books or the pretence or ability to do any other hobby which doesn’t provide the instant gratification of a video of a cute puppy, I’m now trapped in a virtual recreation of the Hotel California.

I can log off any time I like, but I can never leave.