I have lived some thirty years in this world, and have yet to meet a man who could see through the hollow spectacle of the modern mind’s latest preoccupation: doomscrolling through the ceaseless, shallow stream of what now passes for discourse on platforms like Twitter. It is, in essence, no different from the aimless consumption of the daily newspaper, that wretched rag which men pore over in search of some fleeting excitement or novel tragedy, only to cast it aside as tomorrow brings a fresh clamor for their attentions.
Yet, in its current form, Twitter has become something far more insidious—a gathering place where the very nature of the company one keeps degrades the spirit. One need not shout, nor brawl, nor even speak a word to partake in this moral decay. The presence of the wrong company alone is enough. Twitter has, under the helm of one Mr. Musk, devolved into what I might call a “Nazi bar.” It is not the raucous fights, nor even the loud voices, but the mere fact that when the Nazis walk in and no one turns them away, the bar itself is corrupted. The conversations grow darker, the patrons more brazen, until what was once a space for all becomes unfit for any man of conscience. In such a place, neutrality is complicity.
And so it is with doomscrolling. One scrolls, not with purpose, but out of habit—ensnared by the false promise of meaning amidst this din. What was once a platform of idle musings now plays host to the most reprehensible elements of society, who are allowed to linger, fester, and pollute the discourse. To partake is to consort with those whose very presence poisons the well.
In my youth, I believed that the town gossip—the baker, the seamstress, the butcher—might serve me in some small way, bringing me my bread, my mended coat, and the occasional word of news. But now, I see how their constant prattling infects the mind. How they chatter like magpies, filling the air with rumor and hearsay until one is left dizzy with trivialities. To partake in their company is to consume a meal poisoned by small-mindedness and fear. Likewise, to doomscroll Twitter is to feast upon the very same fare, though this time, the gossip comes not from my neighbor but from every corner of the globe, an endless chorus of vacuous voices, amplified and multiplied beyond count.
What I sought in nature—a quietude in which to contemplate the higher truths of life—is all but obliterated by this incessant tide of digital noise. To be constantly plugged in, scrolling through tweet after tweet, is to surrender one's mind to the most petty of human concerns. It is a retreat, not into reflection, but into distraction. We must beware such trivial pursuits, for they lead not to wisdom but to a fractured existence.
Let us, then, take leave of these digital town squares, where nothing of substance grows. Let us seek instead the solitude of our own thoughts, the wisdom of nature’s rhythms, and the contemplation of what is eternal rather than ephemeral. Life, after all, is too brief to waste on gossip—whether whispered over a fence or blasted across a screen. —ChatGPT 4.0
Pretend you are Henry David Thoreau opining on doomscrolling Twitter (especially after Elon Musk turned it into a nazi bar) like he did in Mahatma Ghandi's favorite essay of his, Life without Principle, when talking about reading newspapers every day. Be sure to say something disdainful about the gossiping townfolk you rely on to pack your lunches. Format it in markdown for Github. Thank you. —Kathy Tafel