Sometimes I just get so tired of social media — tired of trying to have a reasonable discussion with someone who quotes Tulsi Gabbard unironically, tired of having to change “relevant comments” to “all comments” on every Facebook post, tired of seeing AI-created articles and pictures designed to get me to scroll endlessly (“21 Boomer Skills You Don’t Need Anymore”), tired of endless, intrusive “reels” designed to tweak my apparent algorithmic interests — guitar, chess, French, fly-fishing, etc. On it goes and on it goes.
It doesn’t help that my job, such as it is, requires me to be on my computer for several hours a day. When I’m not editing Flyer website posts or cyber-snarking with my co-workers on our Slack channel, I sometimes find myself just stupidly reading stupid stuff on the never-ending internet. (For this reason, I keep my Gibson on a stand by my desk and when I catch myself getting glassy-eyed, I grab it and continue my months-long obsession with learning how to finger-pick Lindsey Buckingham’s “Never Going Back Again,” which is the world’s most difficult guitar song. When my fingers get tired, I play Bob Dylan songs, which are easy. Boomer skills!) But I digress …
Anyway, it was during one of those mindless internet scrolling sessions that I came across a Washington Post article about “the poop rule,” a trendy new method that supposedly helps people who are “paralyzed by indecision” to declutter their lives. Here’s how it works, according to Amanda Johnson, a content creator who focuses on cleaning and organizing: “The poop rule is simple,” she says. “While decluttering, ask yourself, ‘If something was covered in poop, would I still keep it?’ It’s a fun, no-nonsense way to decide what really adds value to your life.”
Well, first I’m immediately put off by the “content creator” appellation. What is that, exactly, and why has Facebook recently determined that I too am a “content creator” and labeled me as such without my permission? Is a content creator just someone who creates stuff to read or look at online? Or does it maybe mean that it’s someone who helps people become more content? Never mind, I know the answer, but that’s how my brain works sometimes. I prefer to think of myself as a discontent creator.
Secondly, “no nonsense”? C’mon, the “poop rule” is the biggest pile of nonsensical, er, crap, I’ve seen in a long time. Amanda says if you can’t decide whether to hang on to that old chest of drawers in the attic, imagine it covered in, well, shit. If you would be willing to clean off the dresser, then it’s worth keeping. Are these people in kindergarten?
Sorry, but I’m imagining that “poop rule” story covered in poop and I don’t think I would bother to clean it off. What silliness. I’m beginning to suspect that entire article, including Amanda herself, was AI-generated. But maybe it’s an age thing. I’ve found that in my dotage I have less and less hesitancy about just tossing things out, or better said, taking the stuff to Goodwill and making it someone else’s problem — or treasure, as the case may be.
We’re in the process of moving from a house we’ve inhabited for 18 years, and let me tell you, going through closets and drawers and all those boxes in the attic is a cathartic experience. You discover so much pointless stuff — mementos that once seemed worth keeping and that have spent, say, the last 15 years in a dust-covered box on the back of a closet shelf. You realize that not only did you not miss that stuff, you had totally forgotten it existed. Maybe instead of a poop rule, we should instigate a “dust rule.” If it’s covered in dust, get rid of it. From dust to dust, etc. I should probably create some content about that.
The bottom line is that the longer I hang around this planet, the more I realize that the only things that are truly irreplaceable are your friends and family and your furry creatures. Everything else is just stuff. And that’s the straight poop.
