seanessay.com Note: my sister lives in cattle country too, but in another time zone, “in the caribou,” in British Columbia.
I could be hopping mad right now. Or I could let out all my air, sinking into depression, disgust and saying, “What’s the use?” I’d rather be mad.
I was driving home a half hour ago and caught scraps of a radio news story.
Here in Alberta a feedlot owner, (I think) out of civic duty, has stopped selling a certain substance (grain? liquid?) to everybody. Goodby dollars. The substance is intended for livestock to rid them of worms and parasites. There is, of course, similar prescription medicine available for people that is harmless for people, but not this stuff. It is very harmful, although good for livestock. But so many people are buying it for themselves that the owner, in good conscience, had to stop all sales.
It wasn’t traditional media that reported that this stuff magically prevents covid. The radio announcer mentioned conspiracy websites. What social media idiots forget is that dedicated journalists, ever since Watergate, have been eager to expose conspiracies to the cleansing light of day. For glory, ideals and profit. But social media lovers seem to think, “It must be true or they wouldn’t have forwarded it.” This while Brutus would shake his head to say, “The fault is not in our social media, but in ourselves.” (Global News link)
To a social media believer, I can’t just say, “you’re an idiot,” not when I realize social media consumers have an emotional vested interest in their beliefs. I am still working out how to confront them without hurting their feelings, triggering their childhood traumas, or being politically incorrect. Last year when a reader of social media told me that you could prevent covid by drinking water every 15 minutes (remember that rumour?) I chose keeping a friend over falling down laughing, back to the floor, waving my arms and legs. Actually, I couldn’t fall down, we were on the phone. So I just tactfully said, “Um hm,” like you do.
I could be a little more honest with my sister. We were on the phone long distance last week talking about vaccines and choices. She could understand people not wanting a vaccine that could make them infertile. I said coldly, “That’s social media.” She answered with scientific details of how the virus arms grab on. I said with permafrost, “That’s social media.” But, supported by all those scientific details, she replied, “Then social media got it from science.” She happens to be a captain in the Royal Canadian Army Cadets, and knows the army is not a democracy, so I reminded her that during WWII there were big rumours that anti-malaria pills cause impotence: The men had to be lined up and forced to take them. Human nature hasn’t changed; social media is simply what happens when people don’t strive to live up to journalism ethics.
Obviously, over at those Russian troll farms, the trolls are learning to use details, the way con artists do.
What I could have done was have us go to “hands free” speaker phone, but I didn’t. Not until a couple days later did I think to type in a search engine run for “vaccine” and “infertility.” Then I chose a traditional media, BBC, to click on, and e-mailed the address to my sister. No reply.
Next time I’m on the phone, and can’t fall down, I’ll be tactful. I’ll just cheerfully sing a sunny old TV verse (paraphrased) from Facts of Life. You’re on your own for finding the metaphors.
“If you hear it from your brother better check it with your mother,
Better get it right, get it straight tonight,
… The facts of life are all about you.”
…
…
Sean (social media kills) Crawford
Alberta, August 2021
BLOG NOTES:
I guess this is my last post.
(for a time)
As mentioned last week, I have been pondering. Now I know. I feel right doing a blog pause. Why? Because it’s too tempting to put my man hours into editing my essays, hours that could be used elsewhere.
Better, instead, to put my faltering, ongoing attempts at new improved fiction here.—Say, want poetry?—And “here” means technically I’m still posting, right?
Like my essays, my fiction isn’t good enough to publish: I wouldn’t be hurting any “future sales” by posting here. Besides, few people read my blog. Very few. My old blog, “inactive” for a year, is still getting more hits than this one.
I wonder what I’ll post next week?
