The Internet is making me dumb.
I be dumb thanks to the Internet. Damn, you, Internet, damn you!
Not it fault, I know.
We’re to blame really. The Internet is just a … well … what the heck is it? Microchips and wires? Bits and bytes? A fancy box with endless photos of dogs dressed like Darth Vader and generic Viagra ads?
Truth is, the Internet is a vast catalog of searchable information, 98 percent of which will turn your brain softer than the carved pumpkin dissolving into a puddle of goop on my front porch.
Disclaimer: I’m not one of those people who never uses the Internet or blames it for great evils like global warming, rabies or why, after all these years, socks still don’t stay up,
Rather, I’m one of those people who love the Internet and blame it for great evils like global warming, rabies or why, after all these years, socks still don’t stay up,
Add to the list: it’s making us dumb.
Truth is, I do love the Internet. I spend gobs of time on it, reading news, sharing information, finding out things, contacting people, researching stuff, checking on finances, shopping, and any number of other worthwhile things that, I now believe, are rotting my brain.
Don’t get me wrong, few things in history have been as revolutionary. Sure, the cheese grater was big and I’m not going to downplay the significance of the Snuggie.
But more and more I’m realizing the Web has become a wasteland of worthless information designed to sucker poor (once)-intelligent saps like me to stories about Beyoncé’s favorite yoga moves.
Take Facebook for instance. An amazing way to connect with friends, stay in touch with relatives and generally stalk people from the comfort of your home. And what do I use Facebook for? To muse about why no one has invented a Swiss cheese where the holes are filled with ham, olives or better yet, more cheese.
Three brain cells were just atomized.
Or I go online and read stories like “The Coolest Home Upgrades,” which comes from CNBC. Forget that I don’t have any money to upgrade my house, no matter how cool it is! I just dropped a couple grand on a new AC/heat pump unit for the front part of my house. I’ll be lucky if I can afford paper towels with flowers printed on them.
Yet, there I was reading about how water features with fire can help jazz up my house. Water features with fire!!! Why have just a fountain, or just a fire, when you can combine the two and impress your unemployed friends?
Nothing screams, “suck on that, recession,” like a flaming water fountain. (Throw in a snow machine and you’re really cool.)
Four more brain cells gone.
Like a lot of people, I’ve become an Internet junk reader, pulled in 20,000 directions, clicking wildly on link after link, skimming this, scanning that, and never bothering to finish any of it, like that story about how Charlie Sheen’s ex-housekeeper once removed a bunion with lemon juice and sea salt. That was goof stuff!
I read an article a couple months back in the Wall Street Journal — print edition, thank you — called “Does the Internet make you dumber?” It had lots of facts and information that I couldn’t understand, but it seemed to make the case that the Internet, e-mail and texting are making us less focused, less attentive and ultimately less creative and productive.
I would have been able to share more, but the writer kept throwing in words like “cognitive” and “neural connections,” which totally stumped me. But in essence, he was saying our inattention and multi-tasking have made us digital ping pong balls who are scattered, superficial, distracted and … hey, look, a bird …
In the online version, they ran a poll asking readers whether the Internet was making us smarter or dumber. Sixty four percent said it was actually making us smarter, while the rest felt it was making us dumber. But I don’t think this is reliable because it couldn’t measure how many people yelled at the computer screen, “I said the answer is fourteen!”
That just about settles it for me — I answered six.
So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go read more ways to make my house cooler on a four-brain-cell budget. If the damage is already done, I might as well indulge. (Whatever that means.)