Chapter 1: The Cycle of Anger

Are you weary of the constant anger that fills our online spaces?

Picture a woman gracefully moving around her home, preparing a homemade breakfast for her child who woke up craving corn flakes. A tickle in her throat prompts her to whip out her cough drop molds. She’s dressed in elegant gowns, her hair perfectly styled, her voice soothing and melodic, drawing us into a trance-like state. In stark contrast, men create videos showcasing the atrocious things they would do to their sleeping partners. A mother of thirteen hoards candy in her kids' individual refrigerators, enough to energize a kindergarten, while another mother serves her two-year-old half-cooked pancakes dripping with syrup. A teenager complains about her messy room and her housekeeper’s failure to clean it, sneering at the camera with one arm in a sling.

Then comes the inevitable tide of comments.

The legions arrive, wielding their verbal hatchets and saws, their messages drenched in exclamation points, eager to attack. They express outrage at the so-called entitled youth, women longing for a time when they lacked voting rights, and mothers seemingly endangering their children with sugar and neglect. The comments devolve into personal assaults, critiquing the mother’s appearance and breathing. Accusations fly — Americans are becoming walking diabetics! The mother's high fashion and flawless skin — the unrealistic standards of beauty and parenting! Men deserving of condemnation — we know your location! And wealthy children who should be punished — burn, whiner, burn!

Our anger is directed at many fronts: wars, rising costs, and the ever-present Kardashians. Politicians are deceitful, their social media filled with lies, legal troubles, and hidden children. Everyone seems foolish for their beliefs, regardless of their stance. Since the 2016 election, I haven’t spoken to my former best friend, and despite her mother's efforts to mend our rift, I remain the ridiculous liberal while she’s seen as a racist monster.

Reconciliation feels impossible when every attempt to build a bridge is met with flames. It’s easier to embrace hatred than to heal and love.

Humans possess a cruel, indignant nature, with our only reprieve found in heartwarming animal rescue videos. We rejoice at seeing a kitten revived, a cow frolicking in a field, or a rare baby rhino being bottle-fed. For a fleeting moment, the comments become a glimmer of hope amid the darkness, uniting us in a shared belief that humanity isn’t entirely lost — until someone stirs the pot, igniting conflicts, threats, and harsh judgments.

Do we indulge in our rage as if it were a delicacy? Does it nourish us? Is anger our default emotional state? It certainly drives our clicks, views, and comments. Rage bait has become a lucrative industry, and I often ponder if some individuals intentionally provoke outrage, knowing it generates profit. Rage goes viral, leading to endless commentary and critiques. It fuels careers, elevating wannabe influencers from obscurity. Rage dominates our news cycle and becomes a tool for inflicting our pain on others.

There are those who thrive on inciting anger and those who fall victim to it. I’ve penned mundane marketing guides that received streams of vitriol. I never anticipated that the term 'ROI' could evoke such a fierce reaction. Anger seems to have become so commonplace that we’ve grown desensitized to it. We enter discussions ready for combat, assuming the worst in others. Everyone is terrible, everyone is hurting — except for puppies, who remain universally adored. However, when we witness someone mistreating a puppy, the urge to retaliate becomes overwhelming.

In a world where we constantly nurse an open wound, do we seek out rage because it allows us, if only briefly, to feel something — a sense of superiority or justified anger? With so much pain within us, do we offload it onto others?

These are the questions I grapple with daily.

What I do know is that hatred is exhausting. It has made me cynical, less willing to love or trust because I dread disappointment. I become wary when the line between satire and rage bait blurs. I question those who build careers on inciting anger, wondering if they lack faith in their talents or grew weary of the grind, opting for immediate fame through outrage.

I find myself craving goodness amidst the chaos. I actively seek beauty and kindness, which have become rare treasures. I follow a stranger on Instagram whose motto is: “I’m Jenn, and I share something positive every day.” This is not about glossing over reality with toxic positivity; it’s about discovering flickers of hope in an all-too-familiar darkness. It’s about unearthing pockets of the internet that offer us reassurance that humanity isn’t entirely wretched (though it often is, perhaps not as atrocious as we’re led to believe).

It’s about connecting with those who uplift us rather than perpetually stoke our anger. There exists so much in this world worthy of our genuine outrage. I refuse to dilute that righteous indignation with anger baited by those seeking fame or profit. I dream of a day devoid of such profiteers, a day when kindness is not a rarity.

In the first video, "How Rage Bait Swallowed Social Media," the discussion centers around the impact of outrage-driven content on our online behavior and the consequences it carries.

Chapter 2: The Depths of Online Discontent

The second video, "RAGE BAIT: Finding the Real Story in a World of Half-Truths," explores how to navigate the noise of misinformation and find clarity amidst the chaos of social media.