It occurred to me the other day, I am the fake news. I’m exactly what Mark Zuckerberg wants to algorithm out of facebook. I’m the wart on the idea of society’s mind, one who borders on leprotic, a rare contaminated Giselle of the animal kingdom, crying foul and ruining everybody’s tea party.
Except I’m right.
I’m a dastardly lass, credentialed in every way. Gifted with a penchant for prose and a nose for snooping, I’ve uncovered at every turn and crafted what under normal circumstances would be considered prize-winning works. I know this because I’ve been recognized for my results, but mostly because it’s in my blood. Yet I crumple the feathers of even the most hearty of turds, just by reiterating evidence that’s hiding in plain sight.
How utterly boring and minuscule, when one considers the unlimited possibilities.
No doubt, this will not be for long, as the world is waking up every day to its infinite potential — recognizing the insanity of our past ways in global decision making and local heretical policy.
So welcome to the new age, to the new age, welcome to the new age. Of absolutely every man for himself.
I am the fake news, because I’m not the news that lives on the propaganda press. I’m not the party-line mouthpiece, Bezos-puppeted global takeover giant. I have no vested interest other than pride of authorship and 4 generations of journalists looking over my shoulder to ensure I keep to the code of defender of truth. It’s why we toil and tumble in these ocean tides of change, determined to win this one out of sheer persistence, that democracy did not fail and demoncracy did not prevail, and we are awakening to a transparent truth that is palpable in every breath we take.
And so it is…
I am the fake news. And I am here to report, nothing is what it seems…