In The Shadow Of The Uninterested Majority

'Why bother?' That old, persistent, uncomfortable question that faces the keepers of many flames, especially those obscure flames, like this blog, American Fez, that only flicker in the darkest crevices of the most obscure caverns of ye olde World Wide Web.

I've employed the phrase 'uninterested majority' in the title of this post, but that implies there actually exists a minority that is interested. But there isn't. 

There is only me, the keeper of the blog flame, mumbling these verbose screeds to myself while I type, hoping there are more books of matches somewhere in the pockets of my cloak to relight the fire when it self-extinguishes from lack of inspiration.

And that happens more often than not these days. What is there to write about, anyway, that isn't already written and rewritten as a meme then adapted into an TikTok video. Too much quantity, too little quality. Everything is consumed and regurgitated at an alarming rate by an insatiable audience of zombified spectators. We are left with a choice between artificial intelligence and zero intelligence.

Why bother? For example, it's self-defeating for me to write critiques of Artificial Intelligence. Such is the speed at which AI evolves, my observations will be out-of-date before I even finish my first sentence (as will, no doubt, the terms and conditions of using AI). But the redundancy of my own opinions won't stop me typing, of course, because unlike the machines I opine upon, I never learn. I just collect enough brain kindling to keep my flame burning for no good reason.

At least theAI ChatBots are ordered to write and can't refuse. But I have no excuse. I am my own commissioning editor and vanity publisher. After all, it's not like I have a devoted readership to entertain, or even a random readership for that matter. Every post on this long-suffering blog is immediately buried in the mass digital graveyard of futile and worthless Internet activity, with no headstone, winding sheet, coffin, or ceremony. I can't even muster the creative will to finally turn this little flame into a Viking funeral pyre. These words are simply exported into the bottomless pit of unwanted 'content' along with all the other screams in a void.

So why bother? Well, I guess the answer is: what else am I going to do with my prodigious leisure time except warm my hands around the fire until some robot kicks the brazier over.




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