(This piece was originally created as a Facebook posting, but I decided it merited a space where it would visible as a whole, instead of just as opening lines with option to continue, an enabling concession to the “tl;dr” crowd.)
Not that anyone asked (which could be the opening words of almost every FB posting):
While I deliberately limit my time spent on social media, I do attempt to read a great many things while there, if only out of curiosity (an appetite I’d like to think is insatiable, or at least always a bit peckish). And I try to fight back against the algorithms which attempt to feed me only postings that are “compatible” by maintaining contact and occasional engagement with people whose views differ greatly from my own. Although this can cause temporary disturbance in my blood pressure, I do this to avoid the ideological inbreeding (a phrase I love from a history class long ago) that can arise by interacting only with people who march to the same drummer (and from an identical playlist) as I. After all, if I don’t subject my good ideas to the scrutiny of others, who will challenge my bad ones?
That said, I wish to point out some things that trigger my intellectual gag reflex, and cause me to stop reading and move on without regret:
1. Derogatory epithets. Whether applied to individuals (e.g. “Killary,” “Rump,” “Obummer”) or to groups (“sheeple,” “mouth breathers,” “libtards,” which is doubly offensive), I immediately lose interest in whatever that user has to say. Such terminology is not necessary for advancing anyone’s argument, and it’s disrespectful and unkind.
2. The phrase “you can’t fix stupid.” Firstly, I object to the use of that adjective in any context. You wouldn’t–and shouldn’t–attack a person’s physical impairment, so why would it be acceptable to attack an intellectual one? And secondly, I’ve spent over two decades professionally devoted to the notion that ignorance is 100% curable, even if some people resist or decline the effort needed to cure it. To write off anyone as being beyond help is an action I find insulting as a human being.
3. Anything that begins, “Nobody reads my posts,” or similar. I’ve sworn to eliminate passive-aggression from my emotional diet as much as possible, and while I sympathize with those who post and rarely receive responses to their shared thoughts, I won’t be shamed into taking a “li’l test” to boost someone’s ego. I’m much more amenable when someone asks for a joke, or a even an inspirational quotation, something that can benefit more than just the person fishing for it.
4. “Let’s fill the Internet with flags!” The day that my social media feeds are dominated by flags or other patriotic sentiments will be a frightening one, indeed.
5. Casual statistics. If a post tries to entice my attention with claims such as “98% will fail this quiz” or “95% won’t repost this,” then I move away with lightning speed. Either the numbers are totally fabricated, or there’s a database being compiled that I choose not to be a part of.
6. “Everyone share this, so we can make it go viral!” No. Hell, no. Even if I agree with your idea, I think that bombardment is ultimately self-defeating. What’s more, things that “go viral” tend to disappear quickly; if an idea is good, it will find a way to stick around.
7. Just about anything with “furious,” “shut down,” or “destroyed” in the title. Or, to be more specific, “[Individual or group No. 1] just did something and [individual or group No. 2] is furious about it.” No, thanks. Or just no thanks. The writer clearly wants to appeal not so much to my desire for information, but in equal or greater amount to my hope that someone I don’t agree with is hurt by that information. I’m not biting. It might have an appealing aroma, but the flavor of schadenfreude is ultimately bitter, and upsets my digestion. It has taken me a while to make that connection and learn to act accordingly, but I feel a lot healthier for it.
I come to social media looking for civil discourse, not war games. Sometimes I find it, and enjoy; otherwise, I try to supply some myself. It’s like bringing fresh fruit to a party where most of the other offerings are deep-fried. Even if you end up bringing most of it back home, you usually find that someone besides you took a serving, and was silently glad that it was there.
To conclude, I can’t guarantee that if someone took the time to examine my posting history they wouldn’t find me breaking my own rules. If that were to happen, I would not deny it; instead, I’d pledge to learn from my own mistakes, and offer others the same option in the spirit of improvement. Humanity, either individually or as a whole, is always under construction.
I would take exception to your view on “you can’t fix stupid,” but as with so many things in language it’s almost assuredly due to a differing in-context definition. I love “you can’t fix stupid” because in my head it has always meant “you can’t fix human.”
I’ve never observed an instance of the phrase applied to a situation where a reasonable expectation of capability wasn’t warranted, serving as the future tense of “should have known better.” Often this evaluation was made in the face of extra-reasonable efforts to dispel the ignorance that would lead to a phrase-inducing situation. And yet, the expectation existed that someone, sooner or later, would do the dumb and prompt the line, an expectation that rarely failed to bear fruit.
Many people at this junction find fault with the dingus what did the dumb, and while I won’t play at being otherwise, such moments always struck me as a far more inclusive failings than isolating ones. The ‘stupid’ isn’t a dig at individual failure, but a reference to all of us. Our inability to take in every little caution and warning marker in life; our lack of 20/20 foresight; our complete and total failure to be perfect. I haven’t space enough to recount the number of times I’ve made mistakes, fumbled ideas, or otherwise screwed up simple acts that I was clearly, often demonstratively capable of, and I’ll bet dollars to donuts you’ve got your own infraction in mind this very second. It’s as universal a notion as you’ll likely get, common to the species. And sure, that reasonable expectation of capability will change from person to person and itself be made unreasonable for the trouble, but that’s just another highlight of our collective inability to “get it right.” Compound humanity!
Curing ignorance is a wonderful ideal to pursue, worthy indeed of a career’s worth of effort, but god help you if with it you envision an associated end goal. You can fight humanity, but you can’t fix it.
Thank you for your response! I admit that I’ve never heard “you can’t fix stupid” used in the sort of “Oh, well; we’re only human” context that you describe, but now I’ll be sure to listen for it. I like the accepting, empathetic tone it carries. Sadly, the vast majority of my experience with the phrase expresses solid derogatory meaning, generally in the form of “I’ve given up trying to explain my politics to some people, because you just can’t fix stupid.” Of course, I found many occurrences of the phrase in reader comment sections of online articles, and when I step into a cesspool like that I’m not surprised by what sticks to my shoes.
After giving it some thought, I can come up with a couple examples of “stupid” used in a positive sense. The first I encountered some 25 years ago when teaching seventh- and eighth-grade classes. Some of the boys were clearly struggling with how to express their liking for something in class without looking any less cool in the eyes of their friends; what often came out was a big smile, quickly accompanied by an emphatic “Stupid!!” The second example is the more recent adoption of the word as an adverb in service of enhancing a positive description. “The food at that place is stupid good!” a friend of mine once announced. The usage has spread to the commercial world (“STOOPID LOW PRICES!”), which might mean that it’s already in its twilight.
Despite that, I still try to avoid using the word at all, a habit from two decades in the classroom. It just seems counterproductive to civil relations. Even so, I am trying to find a suitable substitute for it in an expression I encountered in the business world, and which has far wider applications: “Stupid leaders surround themselves with smart staff; smart leaders surround themselves with smart staff who disagree with them.” Your connotation of “You can’t fix stupid” brings to my mind the wise words of one Valerie Felicity Frizzle: “Take chances! Make mistakes! Get messy!”