title: Fake Internet
lang: en

> Everywhere I went online this year, I was asked to prove I’m a human. Can you retype this distorted word? Can you transcribe this house number? Can you select the images that contain a motorcycle? I found myself prostrate daily at the feet of robot bouncers, frantically showing off my highly developed pattern-matching skills — does a Vespa count as a motorcycle, even? — so I could get into nightclubs I’m not even sure I want to enter. Once inside, I was directed by dopamine-feedback loops to scroll well past any healthy point, manipulated by emotionally charged headlines and posts to click on things I didn’t care about, and harried and hectored and sweet-talked into arguments and purchases and relationships so algorithmically determined it was hard to describe them as real.
>
> Where does that leave us?
> 
> <cite>*[How Much of the Internet Is Fake?](http://nymag.com/intelligencer/2018/12/how-much-of-the-internet-is-fake.html)* ([cache](/david/cache/f475949609e5511575655225fc4264df/))</cite>

It leaves us busy while others are egoistically ruining the planet for their own good. Quite simple. And realizing it “just” makes you more depressed. 

Merry Christmas! *Any other question?*