Under Grumpa's Hat

Social media was supposed to connect us, but it feels more like a bad group project where nobody knows what’s going on and one guy won’t stop posting gym selfies.

Let’s be honest, the internet used to be a fun place. Cat videos, old classmates, far away family members, and the occasional conspiracy theory about lizard people. Now it’s a psychological dumpster fire with Wi-Fi.

We’ve turned validation into a full-time career. People talk about their follower count like it’s their credit score. “I just hit ten thousand!” Great, but you still can’t get a date or borrow money from your friends. You’re basically rich in Monopoly money, impressive until someone asks for cash.

And those “friends”? Half of them wouldn’t notice if you disappeared, as long as your account keeps liking their vacation photos. Social media friendship is like light beer: looks real, feels bubbly, but there’s absolutely nothing in it.

Then you’ve got the self-proclaimed influencers. Humanity’s new philosophers. Plato gave us The Republic. These people give us 10 ways to stay hydrated. You’re not influencing, sweetie, you’re holding a water bottle and hoping for sponsorship.

If aliens ever come down and scroll through our feeds, they’ll go right back home. “These people dance in parking lots for approval. They call it ‘content.’ They’re not ready.”

And don’t get me started on selfies. We used to take pictures to remember moments, now we take them to prove they happened. There’s someone right now standing on a cliff taking a selfie captioned “Just breathing it all in,” while absolutely not breathing it in. They’re too busy holding their breath, tightening their jawline doing a duck face, and pretending to be enlightened.

Then there’s outrage culture. Online, everyone’s furious about something, all the time. People wake up, stretch, and think, “Alright, who am I mad at today?” You can post “Good morning!” and someone will reply, “Oh, so it’s NOT a good morning for those who work nights? Check your privilege.”

And now we’ve got bots everywhere, pushing whatever story political parties or someone with deep pockets with something to gain wants trending. It’s like propaganda got a software update. The algorithms don’t even bother pretending to be neutral anymore; they just feed us what the platform owner believes in.

Add AI to the mix, and we’ve reached the point where no one can tell fiction from fact. We’re living in a world where lies have better lighting and a higher engagement rate than truth. It’s like they’ve invented “smart phones” to create a dumber society.

And let’s talk about couples who post anniversary essays longer than their wedding vows. “Happy 7th anniversary to my soulmate, my rock, my reason for breathing.” If your spouse needs a LinkedIn-style recommendation every year to feel loved, maybe put the phone down and just hug them.

Social media has made us all news anchors of our own lives. “Breaking: Jason had tacos again. Details at 6.” We don’t talk to each other anymore; we broadcast.

Even kids are growing up differently now. Remember when we played outside until the streetlights came on? Now they play indoors until their iPads die. Childhood used to be scraped knees and tree forts, not Roblox and Fortnite.

We’ve become a society of thumb athletes, scrolling, swiping, tapping. The only muscles getting stronger are the ones that stop us from thinking too long.

Even here in Costa Rica, I was dumbfounded watching workers on the side of the road busier reading their phone than directing traffic, and motorcyclists checking their messages while riding.

And yet, for all this noise, all this connection, most people feel lonelier than ever. The need for validation is eating us alive. We’re chasing likes the way dogs chase cars, loudly, pointlessly, and with no idea what to do when we actually catch one.

Because that’s the kicker, isn’t it? We’re performing instead of living. We’ve confused attention with affection, popularity with purpose. We’ve been “liked” to death, but rarely loved to life.

Maybe one day we’ll pull our eyes off the screens, look around, and remember that connection doesn’t come from Wi-Fi, it comes from faces. Real ones. The kind that wrinkle when they laugh, not the ones seen through filters or pixelated when the signal drops. Maybe instead of the buffering wheel on the screen, it will be a sign of our minds thinking instead.

And when that day comes, maybe, just maybe, we’ll finally go viral for the right reason: because we remembered how to be human again.