Anthonie Willem Hendrik Nolthenius de Man: Wheel on a pole (1814)
A wagon wheel on a tree trunk, with garments, a jug and a tub on it. On the right a chicken.
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"…an undifferentiated dopamine rush, and then another."

My scrolling most closely resembles stumbling. I move relatively directionless. If not necessarily so at first, eventually. I lose whatever thread of coherence with which I might have begun scrolling, then commence to seeking some Serendipity instead. I feel hopeful, as if I might surprise myself, though I sort through a raft of crap before, finally, eventually stumbling upon something vaguely satisfying. That seems to be the reward for the aimless wandering, a clear waste of precious time, paid off for with some Serendipity, a discovery I couldn’t have possibly held a specific intention to find. I receive a random payoff after taking an equally random walk. Once I’ve extracted the goody off that one, I’m likely to continue scrolling with the tacit intent of repeating that satisfying discovery with something different but identical, ad infinitum.

What happens when an economy, a society, quietly but inexorably leaches out the ability of its citizens to expect? They say that once upon a time, people could subscribe to something referred to as The American Dream, and seemingly feel fairly certain of attainment. Since then, Repuglican tactics to steal the means for upward mobility have largely been successful. Now, a third of all people under the age of thirty-three in our society (supposedly the wealthiest society in the history of the world) live at home with their parents because our economy cannot provide enough income for those “kids” to survive on their own. They can’t fledge until reaching an age where half their forebears had already died.

The quantity of available hope in this world has been plummeting for a few decades now, at least since the “Reagan Revolution.” This was the direct result of deliberate decisions and not the fault of our children’s generation, or, necessarily, of ours. A few extremely wealthy and conniving immorals chose to create a world like this. It’s left us with an almost frantic need to cope with the situation. With ever fewer legitimate avenues for advancement, it seems understandable if many people adopt essentially random strategies for experiencing better. Scrolling seems just as reasonable as playing the numbers used to seem to discouraged immigrants generations earlier. The promise of some random salvation sure seems a whole lot better than nothing. Even if it usually results in nothing terribly tangible.

A dopamine rush amounts to much when compared to nothing much at all. Yes, TikTok videos seem disarmingly trivial, yet they seem to pack punches than produce satisfaction, after a fashion. If we cannot successfully compete for tangibles, intangibles will have to do. To experience an actual act of Serendipity might just be the best thing somebody experiences all day. Every day. The search for such satisfaction can take over. The need might be greater than any medicine is capable of ameliorating. The new national pastime amounts to profligately spending time pursuing absolute intangibles. Social interaction recedes into people’s heads. We’re connected like never before, though, now, we seem to have little to talk about or seek.

I think the scrolling epidemic might not be conventionally curable as long as people seem to have so little to hope for. The Repuglicans overreached their intentions. They demolished the very purpose for which many were living. They’ve contributed to creating a generation of nihilists with little left to strive for, so they live defensively, increasingly desperately seeking Serendipity. Serendipity requires no particular skill to succeed. It thrives on a lateral slide. It moves without a specific purpose and grows to become extremely easily entertained. Their purpose becomes that lazy lateral search without clear intentions. They seek satisfaction without first imagining what might constitute satisfaction, other than an undifferentiated dopamine rush, and then another.

©2025 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Unscrolling, #PureSchmaltz