My View From the cheap seats

You can say a lot about the modern world, but one thing is certain. We have never had more information available, and we have never used it less.

Somewhere between the invention of the smartphone and the rise of people who think the moon landing was filmed behind a Waffle House in Albuquerque, we became a nation ready to believe anything — anything — as long as it’s written in bold type with three exclamation points and posted by a man whose screen name is TruckDaddy1974 and whose profile picture is an American flag and a largemouth bass.

I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, we collectively decided that anything typed in bold, all-caps letters must be the truth. I saw a post last week that said, “NASA CONFIRMS THE MOON IS ACTUALLY A GIANT EGGSHELL,” and several commenters simply replied, “I KNEW IT.” These are adults. With driver’s licenses. Some probably vote.

Now, I’m not saying I’m immune to believing dumb things. I once fell for a headline that claimed a man in Kentucky had trained his dog to dial 911. In my defense, I’ve known some very talented dogs. But the average social-media user seems willing to believe almost anything — except actual, vetted facts. The more ridiculous the claim, the more likely it’ll rack up enough shares to circle the globe before lunchtime.

Take my friend. I’m withholding his name to keep people from knowing he’s stupid. He is a decent man, loves his wife, mows his lawn, pays his taxes. But post one picture of a cloud vaguely shaped like Abraham Lincoln, and he will start explaining to you — quite sincerely — that this is a sign from the universe telling him to buy cryptocurrency.

My friend once believed that if you put a bar of soap under your bedsheet, it cures leg cramps. I told him there’s no scientific proof. “Maybe not,” he said, “but it worked for my cousin twice.” Meanwhile, his cousin is the same man who swears Bigfoot stole his cooler in 1997.

Americans have always been a little gullible. And that was before the internet handed everyone a digital megaphone. These days, you could post a picture of a squirrel with a top hat and claim it was elected mayor of a small town in Vermont, and half the population would start arguing about its political platform.

So, what’s the solution? How do we fight the rising tide of digital nonsense? I propose a simple test. Before you believe anything online, ask yourself three questions:

Does this seem even remotely reasonable? If the answer is “no,” proceed with caution.

Is the source a reputable organization or a profile picture of a truck, an eagle, or a man wearing wraparound sunglasses? This will eliminate 80% of the internet.

Would you repeat this claim to your mother without feeling like a complete fool? If you’d be embarrassed to say it out loud, maybe — just maybe — it isn’t gospel.

We can’t stop people from believing nonsense. Some folks still think Elvis is alive, the Earth is flat, and pineapple on pizza is an acceptable topping. (For the record, Elvis is gone, the earth is round, and the pineapple debate will rage on long after we’re all dust.)

But maybe — just maybe — we can slow down before we share that next ridiculous meme.

And if you see a post saying the moon is hollow, please don’t share it. My friend already has enough crypto.