It is 2 AM, you’re numb thumbing your phone, drooling over a tiger cub’s yawn remix. Adorable overload, eh? Meanwhile, real tigers are ghosting the planet. We’ve swapped blood-soaked savannas for pixelated pablum, and oblivion’s our dip shit destination.
Games, OTT, Social feeds, porn, news( fake and otherwise)- the flywheel of consumption for entertainment is always turning.
Our ancestors survived world wars, black outs etc on stale bread, left over idlis and grit. We can’t survive a 30-second ad without reaching for the skip button.
Let that sink in.
We’ve engineered paradise and called it a feed. We’ve weaponized boredom into a business model worth trillions. And somewhere between the third reel and the seventy-fourth notification, we stopped asking the most dangerous question of all: What if entertainment isn’t entertaining us anymore—what if it’s erasing us?
Let us reconcile to the reality that gropes us- We’re not bored; we’re boring ourselves into the grave. Neil Postman’s Amusing Ourselves to Death dropkicked truth in ’85: Huxley’s happy pills trump Orwell’s jackboots every time. And the 2026 update? TikTok’s your sleazy pusher, Netflix your porn-for-the-soul, Insta your ego’s toxic ex. Classic cesspool? Roman Colosseum reboot—sweaty influencers throat-punching for likes, our “thumbs up” the new coliseum cheer. Bread and circuses? Shove it: Try kale smoothies and cancel-culture circle-jerks.
Why does that brain-rot clip hijack your soul harder than your own damn life? its a no-brainer- Dopamine —the eternal itch.
Our brain’s a rigged casino. Swipe = lever-pull. Ping = payout. Data dumps it: 150 checks a day, dopamine frying our gray matter like bacon in hell. Zuckerberg’s rats, us—chasing ghost highs while life bleeds out: chats ghosted, dreams deep-sixed, crises chuckled off. Barbenheimer 2023? Pink doll bullshit vs. nuke porn—billions buzzed, zero brains bruised. Check our corpse-reflection: zombie stare, soul on snooze.
If distraction was a drug, we’d all be overdose headlines. Overdosing on irrelevance mind you. And, not surprisingly—you’re the lead. Hence, you can bleed!
Victims? Yeah, that’s us—doom-scrolling drones in this digital coliseum. But inspiration ignites when you flip the script.
Remedy 1?: Audit your feeds . Unfollow the noise; curate for ignition. Swap cat videos for creators who provoke you—podcasts dissecting empires, books that bruise egos.
Remedy 2?: Hunt analog dopamine. Read a physical book till pages yellow. Walk sans AirPods—let birdsong hijack your neurons. Journal the ugly truths; build something tangible—a side hustle, a garden, a grudge-settling manifesto. Science backs it: Deep work floods you with sustained serotonin, not fleeting hits. The perpetually questing brain? Rewire it for mastery, not memes.
What if oblivion’s not the endgame, but your wake-up call?
Final provocation: Entertainment’s no sin—it’s the excess that’s euthanizing your edge. Step off the carousel. Dance back to reality: raw, risky, alive. Oblivion’s optional. Choose vivacity.
Stating The Obvious
Every app on your phone is a slot machine in disguise. Pull down to refresh. Ding. New like. Ding. Someone commented. Ding ding ding.
The average person checks their phone 144 times a day. That’s not behavior. That’s captivity with a data plan.
Instagram stories vanish in 24 hours, training you that everything—including your existence—is disposable content.
The truth that is hard to reconcile to: You’re not the customer. You’re the product. And business is booming.
The Oblivion Express: All Aboard?
Remember when people had hobbies? When conversations didn’t die the moment someone said, “Let me Google that”? When families ate dinner without six phones forming a electronic séance circle around the butter chicken?
We don’t anymore.
We’ve traded substance for streams, depth for doom-scrolling, genuine connection for comment sections where nuance goes to die. The poet Huxley warned us—we’d drown not in what we hate, but in what we love. He just didn’t know it would come with a subscribe button.
Consider this: The average adult now has an attention span shorter than a goldfish. By now, common knowledge, yes. Eight seconds. That’s less time than it takes to read this sentence twice. We’ve become a civilization of hummingbirds on methamphetamines, flitting from stimulus to stimulus, never landing, never savoring, never being.
The Victims Speak(If Anyone Is Listening?)
Walk into any coffee shop. Count the conversations happening versus the heads bent in supplication to glowing rectangles. The ratio will terrify you.
We’re raising a generation that thinks FOMO is a medical condition and viral fame is a career path. Kids who can’t sit through a family dinner but can binge-watch 17 episodes of a series about people pretending to be stranded on an island.
The cruelest irony? We’re more “connected” than ever—and more alone than in human history.
The Wake-Up Call (If You’re Still Conscious)
But here’s where the story offers an opportunity to pivot, where the victims reclaim their narrative: You are not your screen time. That number tracking your digital decay? It’s data, not destiny.
Start here—implement “sacred hours” where technology doesn’t exist. No negotiations. Your ancestors managed entire empires without push notifications. You can manage breakfast.
Read a book that doesn’t link to anything. Have a conversation that doesn’t end in someone saying “That reminds me of a meme.” Create something—anything—that doesn’t require an audience or validation or likes.
The revolution is analog. It’s messy. It’s slow. It’s uncomfortable. It’s real.
In Closing, Some Food For Torque?
Entertainment was supposed to be the dessert of life. We’ve made it the entire meal, and we’re dying of malnutrition while calling it abundance.
Your attention is the last truly scarce resource on Earth. Billionaires are strip-mining it while you watch cat videos.
So here’s your choice: keep scrolling toward oblivion, or look up.
The world is still here. Waiting. Weird. Wonderful. Wholly unfiltered.
But only if you’re brave enough to press pause.
PS: My other blog SOHB(State Of The Heart Branding) Storyis now a Podcast as well. You can access it on these links below:
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@
Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/