timeToday, most UK cities are facing an issue with the extremely high density of high-visibility clothing in circulation. Walk through any busy urban location and it might take you a while to get used to the fact that almost everyone and everything is clad in some glowing shade of yellow, and the whole world is clamoring to be seen before anything else is seen arrive.
It raises some interesting questions. If everything is visual, is anything really just visual? For example, if you pass a cyclist and an Argos delivery driver being arrested by a busload of police and watched by a group of builders and 400 charity walk members, is it possible that you won’t see the whole scene at all? , in which case all we have is emphasis, high visibility on top of high visibility?
This is, of course, a clumsily implemented introductory metaphor, this time to life on the Internet, news media, social media, and sharing algorithms. For anyone who spends time within it, daily online existence is now essentially all about emphasis, noise, converging into an increasingly driven and politicized realm of noise.
The process reached an interesting stage this week with a major migration of one of the static origins, publishing site X.
On the surface, this is obviously a good decision, as anything that involves not using social media for any period of time is always a good decision. Human beings should not actually live in a global networked hive mind. Certainly not a hive mind like X. From the first moment you log in, it feels like being fucked by a vicious robot, and in the long run, like stabbing yourself repeatedly with white-hot knitting needles made of hatred. brain.
Many former X users have turned to alternative applications called AgreeSpace or BeardGuy. Elon Musk’s ownership has changed that aspect, not just reduced the basic experience. Musk is a very unusual person, apparently super-powerful in a very specific area, perfectly suited to the here and now, and with a permeable quality that spreads itself to every surface like human artificial intelligence.
Musk has also chosen to make himself a political figure and have such engagement on his platform so that it becomes political as well. This in turn forces users to make their own political choices. Annoyingly, both staying and leaving now become inescapably important.
But here’s the thing. Sports Twitter (as I insist on calling it) is both highly social and incredibly engaging. The thought of leaving it was still hard to swallow. Not because it’s good or great. God no. Sometimes it’s just the worst place in the world. But it’s also perfect content for media. At its best moments, it’s a truly warm and fun online community. You have to admit, the past 15 years have been quite a wild ride.
Even a normal sports Twitter day – share thoughts, read posts, learn stuff, be called a random number, scroll through something about how Max Rushden’s appearance on The Tonight Show got people talking about his taxes Planning the planned AI content (“They were shocked”) – It felt like a party.
When the world was young, when the wild frontier was wide open, it was exciting to hear those distant yet immediate sounds for the first time. Darren Bent is talking about his shoes. Jordan Pickford wants McDonald’s. Back in May 2011, I wrote a naive yet hopeful article about the phenomenon of Twitter opening up to gamers, gushing about the grappling hook thrown between the two worlds, a new kind of warmth and a sense of connection.
Of course, the first comment under this article still stands, which is “What a load of middle-class garbage.” That’s the true tone of sports Twitter — unruly and iconoclastic, an endless wave of hate and entertainment, often just hate, sometimes just entertainment.
Twitter will continue to be an efficient rolling news source. The first time I heard about Nelson Mandela’s death was through the Pakistan Cricket account. The stars rise and set here. There’s now a vast, intricate empire built around just one well-dressed man, tell you before the transfer news actually happens.
Good things happen on sports Twitter or spread from other social media. Marcus Rashford and children’s food. Raheem Sterling redefines racism in media. Pele tweeting, for example, does have a real tournament appeal that feels like the real Pelé and sends a shiver in your chest every time. There were plenty of laughs in between, from Danny Gabbidon telling the entire Swansea Twitter fanbase to fuck off after a failed attempt at a friendly discussion, to Ian Botham’s “chopped” dick.
There are clear subsets of this world. Cricket Twitter is vitriolic, funny and unspeakably disappointing. Tennis Twitter: obsessed, cliquey, passionate. Olympic Twitter: Very welcoming moms and nice people. Boxing Twitter: Informed, resentful, and one-upped. Rugby Twitter: No idea, but we can definitely learn a lot from rugby Twitter.
So we arrive at the dry present, an app that now seems almost entirely populated by bots, maniacs, one-note lovers, and one-note crazy bots. Over the years, it’s easy to become a little addicted to these things. But things have also gotten significantly worse.
The level of anger around them has reached its peak. Some people are just there to destroy things. Otherwise, it can feel like this is a space where we all place our most toxic parts, where our collective black dogs lurk.
The whole place feels less human and more automated. Maybe because it is, and maybe because that’s what ten years here does to you. We are all robots now, and another side effect of constant high-visibility exposure is feeling dulled, bored yet overstimulated, always looking for something to feel like.
Maybe it’s really time to retire X. Filter replies. Always, always scroll. Take the good parts and quit when the bad ones happen. What about newer social networking sites? Yes, you can join Windbag: Have fun chatting. But how long can this purity last?
This is the true moral of the story of Noah’s Ark. Sin always blooms again. Someone will have the wrong vibe. Your views on Emile Smith Rowe or craft beer are unacceptable. People will be angry because they are no longer angry. Before we knew it, Hal wouldn’t open the door. Humans are humans. Everything is still there.
It’s hard to say goodbye to this, hard to accept that the party is over, hard to accept that the last few years have been spent trying to dance with corpses. I don’t think I’m done yet. I still love the fighting, and the warmth that ultimately belongs to real people and the things they like, not some human plutonium in a baseball cap. Of course there’s still time for one last drink. Look, the door is already open. Margaux 53. Finally, before closing the door on it all.
