The world is dangerous these days. It used to be that if you, let’s say, got drunk at your cousin’s wedding and barfed on the groom right as he was about to say “I do” your family would be pissed at you, your cousin’s new husband would probably never, ever completely forgive you and when you finally got away from your family, your few friends that you really liked would have a good laugh at the idea of you barfing on someone and the subsequent family shitstorm. Then it would die.
Well, not completely. You’d still have your one cunty aunt who would never EVER stop bringing it up and your little cousin on the other side who insists that it’s “awesome” and you’d have an immediate family version of the Tiger Woods/Michael Richards/OJ syndrome where you’d never REALLY know what was going on behind those eyes that are looking at you, but generally, you get the point. You’d get to move on with your life and chalk it up to a bad day in a closed environment. Done.
Well, those of you who have all your chromosomes (and no extras!) probably already know where this is going. Nowadays, some kid gets filmed by his dad coming back from the dentist all high and the world laughs about it for eternity. And that’s not even really ‘bad’. God forbid you send a picture of your dick to your buddy because there are gonna be school kids in Bangalore giggling at your miley cyrus poster and droopy balls within the hour. The amount of ways that you can fuck up these days, the simplicity with which you can do it and the global totality of the repercussions is not only unprecedented, but it can make me freeze up like a man surrounded by snakes or tarantulas or scorpions or something if I think about it too much.
And the worst part is, shit that’s completely innocuous on its own can wind up biting you hard in the dick when new contexts are provided. For example, that fat dildo from Borat tried to sue the movie for painting him as a drunk xenophobe, but all the Borat lawyers had to do was go on that guy’s myspace page and find all sorts of evidence of him bragging about being a drunk xenophobe (I guess that’s not ‘innocuous’ per se, but you get the idea. Being a drunk xenophobe amongst your drunk xenophobe friends and being outed as one in a number-one movie are different things. Yes, sure, the dude is a total pud, and he agreed to be in the movie and while he was there he ended up acting like the turd that he is and he got what he deserves so uh…what am I saying here?) OR there’s that hillbilly old man that tried to get back at a bunch of cyber dorks that were fucking with his daughter….I don’t really know (or care to know) the story, but you know what? That chick was eleven and of COURSE she’s fucking retarded. She’s ELEVEN! So dude goes on the internet using old world solutions (talking a lot of shit about how deep in shit those who fucked with him are) to a bunch of new jack assholes who knew that he had no fucking clue what he was talking about and now he’s famously retarded and he’s probably on the mailing list for every NAMBLA chapter in the world and generally, his life is probably a little bit ruined. The consequences, old man, will never be the same. Indeed.
Or how about the fact that twitter and facebook and even myspace tend to indicate where you were at any given time in the past, so if you’re trying to lie to the cops or your boyfriend or your parents or you just honestly don’t remember where you were, you’re easily exposed as a fraud/asshole/mongo. Fuck, we used to cross into countries saying that we were there on vacation and we were musicians so we just liked having our instruments. Now, they google my name and BOOM! “Mr. Kelly, says here you’re in a band called the Lawrence Arms that’s scheduled to start a Canadian tour today.” “Hmmm…that’s odd. Where did you read that?” “Your blog.” And there you go. Fucked.
I mean, is it any wonder that everyone’s weird and cloistered and antisocial and doesn’t go outside? It’s a scary world out there. But the crazy part, the part that’s really, truly fucked up, is that the crazy world is actually INSIDE. It’s here, on the internet. When you’re getting your laundry, the old Chinese lady doesn’t say “you done goofed, boy” to you. When you’re sitting at the bar people don’t come up and tell you that you looked fat sucking that trio of cocks in that warehouse. They may recognize you, and they may think it, but they wouldn’t dare approach you. That’s the difference between the real life on here and the real life out there.
I mean, take me. Here, I’m your sophisticated overlord who can extemporaneously talk for hours on end about dog fucking and felching and Diddy Dirty Money and the sad shitsack that the world has found itself in these days…I can talk about how the notion that Julian Assange is being detained for being a rapist suddenly seems like a convenient way to turn someone perceived as dangerous into a monster in the public eye rather than something that seems to be the logical conclusion of a long investigation (because in what universe do people send agents into other countries to get rapists? [they should. Don’t get me wrong. They should. But they don’t. Ask Roman Polanski] and, AND this whole thing, it turns out, stems from Assange just being a complete asshole about using condoms during consensual sex, which is hardly an extraditable offense) but if you talk to me in person, I’m like the Matt Damon puppet from Team America: handsome and wooden. Retarded sounding and dead eyed with a penchant for staring off into space with my mouth open. Also, I say “Matt Damon” a lot.
The internet is an awesome place where we can all be the people that we would be if we had the attributes we really wanted (and subsequently wouldn’t wind up spending any time on the internet) and where women constantly ask for anal and video games are important and everyone has an opinion and who even gives a fuck about spelling? But it’s also weird. My kids will grow up and be able to see me doing awesome things on the internet, and they’ll also get to see me do horribly embarrassing things and they’ll be able to read things I’ve written in which I directly contradict my own parenting directives. This thing is crazy. No wonder we all need xanax and valium.
Speaking of, any doctors out there? I need some xanax and valium. I’m panicking about the internet.