Age of Information
On the irony of knowing everything and understanding less — and the part each of us plays.
The internet was supposed to make us smarter. The data is mixed. This poem is about the part where it didn’t.
It’s ironic, in the age of information
That people don’t want to think
They’d rather be told the explanation
And get lost within their drink
Little did they know, little could they see
They’ve sold themselves to their demise
Blinded by the rage, that’s always on TV
Swept up by a current of lies
The irony’s that it’s not hard, or above us
We simply choose to root ourselves in fear
Instead of sitting down to discuss —
A way to end the bloodshed, a way to end the tears
The information is right there. Most of us aren’t reading it. We’re reading the takes about it, then the takes about the takes, then the takes about the people taking the takes. Three layers in, the original thing is unrecognizable.
The poem isn’t a solution. It’s just an observation, delivered in the only register that ever made sense for it. The way out is probably sitting down to discuss — but the medium that lets us discuss has been the same medium making the discussion impossible.
— JTC