Have a happy digi-totalitarian 2015

Posted on January 14, 2015


This blog post started off as a hastily scrawled list of New Year’s resolutions. I had two: To hit blog deadlines [FAILED – New Year’s resolutions posted 14 January] and don’t eat kebabs [still active].

It evolved over a series of entries into a broad disapproval of society’s digital addiction.

Happy New Year, its 2015, a new year, another year to whither away with pointless pursuits. What could differentiate 2015 from the previous years?

What will make it special?

Likely nothing.

Facebook’ll change a bit – a tiny bit.

This change will prove cataclysmic causing everyone to lose their minds in anger sparking a digital civil war. On one side would be the ‘Like’ militia who ironically hate those in the ‘Share’ camp. The sharers will, funnily enough, be intent on spreading misery to the likers.


The factions will extensively spam likes and shares at each other until their push their mobile data allowance is pushed past its boundaries into the 4G afterlife.

You’ll eventually have to pick a side. The world will be engulfed by the social war. Sure, you could delete your Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, YouTube, Google+, MySpace, Bebo, Whatsapp, LinkedIn, Tumblr, Snapchat and Vine profiles – but how would you know who is winning the social media war? That’s a lot of war to miss out on.

You’ll be alone being the last offline human.

Instead of witnessing Tron-like cyberspace skirmishes unravel, you will be alone, on a plain of existence – which used to be called reality – now only you can comprehend. The violent, unjust and bloodthirsty  will populate the web to troll Buzzfeed articles such as ’10 Cats Millennials Should Punch To Death (sponsored by Shrewsbury Cat Punching Zoo)’.

Sure you could inhabit the same room as smartphone users – they may even occasionally make noises at you, grunts, snorts and involuntary sneezes. However, remaining near ‘the connected’ will only ensure you are force-fed their flatulence due to their incorrect assumption that a fart doesn’t exist if it isn’t tagged Instagram.


Humans are now plugged into the machines. They are now an extension of us. Or are we an extension of them. We have become machines. Can machines love?

When a loved one is trapped in cyber-space complaining about a rocket scientist’s sexy shirt or the fact that Katie Hopkins wrote something other than her last will and fucking testament, what do you do?

Stroke her hair, whisper sweet nothings in her ear? The fact is, your sweet nothing will mean exactly that to her – sweet FA.

Candy Crush has her now – cruelly drip feeding her endorphins like they are ‘I love yous’ from Brad Pitt. She has an abusive relationship with her apps. She trusts them and in return they bombard her with adverts for make-up and plastic surgery to chip away at her self-esteem thus guaranteeing more commerce. ‘At least Candy Crush loves your inperfect face,’ Candy Crush somehow manages to convey through subliminal power-ups. Similar apps also track her online movements – which recently became her only movements.

So, she’s gone, vacantly scrolling through Amazon’s Deals of the Day for the eighth time that day as stale saliva pools at her feet in a puddle she feels not the inclination to notice. Nonetheless, she NEEDS discounted Hunter boots to keep her feet dry from the reoccurring web-browsing puddles. That much she knows.


Maybe you should join her on Facebook, give in. Join the cyber-war, changing your relationship status to:

It’s Complicated (Because we have become one with the internet and as a result cannot engage in physical acts of affection now opting to only share our love of each other onto the timelines of those too decrepit to even snag an online partner to be ‘selfied’ with)


Looking back, if 2014 was the year terrorist organisations started sharing ‘inspirational’ quotes on social media, 2015 will be the year said terrorists adopt a sense of apathy sighing heavily and shaking their heads in despair at Katie Hopkin’s widely shared views on the Welsh.

Posted in: Opinion