The internet has turned us into zombies



The internet spreads out like a virus. As it becomes ubiquitous, so are its influences. The same slang is shared in all fifty states through the influence of social media, the same arguments are repeated online by people in disparate corners of faraway states, and gradually, the same manner of dress is adopted almost universally. The internet is a force of widespread cultural homogenization much in the same way that the spread of the English language via the British Empire was, only the internet is way more powerful.

As the recent years of lockdowns have proven, we exist in an environment where you can work, eat, sleep, be entertained, and socialize without leaving your home. As the phone swallowed paper maps, calculators, cameras, and more, the internet has consumed ever greater portions of previously physical components of human life. Social media is used by many not to supplement but to replace physical social interactions. Amazon is soon to complete the bludgeoning death of brick-and-mortar retail. What human shape is being molded by a life lived in the frame of the internet?

You will find plenty of differences between various subcultures on the internet. Political factions and subcultures online distinguish themselves by using niche memes to create exclusivity and barriers to entry. The USSR-enthusiast side of X does not use the same memes as the traditional Catholic side of X. However, this seeming uniqueness is deceiving as it rarely indicates genuine individual thought but rather represents conformity to a subset of culture. The very structure of online spaces promotes conformity of thought by identical mechanisms no matter which non-territory one belongs to.

Striving for likes

Say you have an X account. There is instant feedback of “likes” for posts, reflecting what others want to see and hear. Posts are not made in a vacuum; unlike a novelist writing quietly in the confines of his room, the X poster receives immediate reactions to his works. Every “like'' affirms his social worth and encourages similarly structured messages. He wants to chase that feeling, that little “zap” of pleasure upon seeing another notification. In seeking to repeat earlier successes, he posts similar content in a similar format, almost necessarily derived from identical thought patterns.

As social beings, the drive to pursue approval from others is nothing new; however, the pervasive, incessant presence of the internet as a social reality is new. People are socially engaged and thus alter their thoughts in response to social pressures, even in the restroom, at red lights, sitting alone in bed, etc. Solitude is a receding territory, like a tectonic plate slowly chewed by the earth into magma, replaced by a panopticon we opt into.

With originality comes risk and often a disappointment. More idiosyncratic beliefs are less likely to receive high praise from a great many people, as they are less likely to be relatable and shared. Cycles of affirmation compel the perpetuation of similar speech and opinion. To combat cognitive dissonance, the mind adopts the beliefs expressed in the public sphere as genuine. These pressures exist in nearly every conscious moment of the slouch-backed social media addict, an increasingly common human type.

As the online world takes up more room in social space, the importance of conformity grows. Approval from others online becomes more critical to psychological well-being as social interaction is relegated to online spaces. Facebook, X, and Instagram become outlets for a stream of consciousness cultivated by the compulsion to be liked. Dependence on approval from your online peers restricts possibilities of thought. Political influencers, like the trite conservative pundits or the shrill overbearing liberal pundits, would risk their livelihoods by changing their opinions in fundamental ways. The average person is increasingly under pressure, similar to the pundit class.

Regular users of social media risk losing acceptance in their online communities, however niche, by straying too far from what is considered acceptable opinion in their spaces. This is the construction of human psychological hives, the reduction of human beings to bees all too content to trade individual thought for community acceptance. This is due to incentive structures created by an online social world with instant feedback loops of rejection and approval. Not only is the hive ever-present, but the signals are instantaneous, which makes for quick training. Pavlov trained dogs to salivate upon ringing a bell by pairing that stimulus with food presentation and fitting the notification symbol across nearly all social media platforms to be shaped like a bell.

Negative comments, praise, likes, and all of this feedback are available the second it happens, making for more effective cognitive training. The “bell” rings exactly when one receives social feedback. This makes for powerful psychological associations that change one’s thinking, one’s cognitive behavior. Beliefs expressed for the underlying purpose of obtaining approval come to be genuinely held, and little joy comes from questioning beliefs required for acceptance within a community. Consequently, there is an adoption of a particular frame of thought that is not of your own making. This environment is increasingly replacing the physical world in terms of where the majority of social interaction takes place, and this has dire consequences for the stability of people’s relationships with others and themselves.

Digital community

shironosov/Getty

It used to be that a community was located in a physical place composed of a patchwork of people belonging to a particular setting. The social environments in which pre-internet people grew up were rooted in commonalities that extended, root-like into the earth, beyond a shared interest in a product line, a fetish, or ideological commitments. You were from a place, and that place mattered because all of the people you talked to, hung out with, fought with, or dated were also from that same place. In such physical spaces, one’s history with others matters in a way that doesn’t exist online. The memories of time spent with people in physical spaces are tangible to the mind; such memories evoke the senses and possess more feeling, so one’s history and reputation in an actual community are not so fragile as one wrong opinion away from being shattered. The story is different today.

In the modern context, there is little stable foundation for community acceptance and moral certainty. Mainstream views held by many in 2000 (for example, that marriage is strictly between a man and a woman) become deadly to even touch in a matter of a few years. The foundations of online social and moral acceptance are built of sand. People must update their opinions consistently to maintain their standing within their online communities. With each revision of belief, there is less resistance to further alteration; convictions risk becoming scribbles on an Etch A Sketch that are liable to be erased at a moment’s notice. Histories and prior interactions with others matter less for maintaining one’s reputation in the face of controversy because online interactions still lack the impression of reality despite how dramatically they shape us. One does not think about the little profile picture spouting his opinions in written format in the same way that one does a human being in the flesh.

Also, unlike in an actual community, one’s actions, temperament, and all the inexpressible traits that make a person's substance are largely irrelevant. What is real is what is posted online, primarily just selective expression. It’s not what you do; it's what you say that matters in the modern “community.” Acceptance, then, in an online world, to a great extent, means agreement. The spread of sycophancy is like a virus. And you’re trained to love it as a drone in a hive.

Sexual politics online makes for strange bedfellows



A report from the field

For reasons I’m not entirely clear on, I happen to be someone who often finds himself in wildly different social circles through Facebook groups, email lists, and IRL gatherings. And when I say “wildly different,” I mean woke media and academic types, so-called TERFs and third-wave feminists, anarchists, MAGA, new right, tradcaths, rationalists, postrats, classical liberals, and more. If you have thoughts on some fringe, I’ve probably been in its group chat or at an event in the past two years. (Except tankies — I draw the line there.)

Why it is that I somehow end up circulating in all these niches is a weird topic for another day, but the point of this piece is not to brag about my network but to report on a phenomenon I’ve observed at work in many of these groups: People are turning on each other over sex.

Honestly, I’ll just go ahead and say it: "ladypenis is not actually real" is a profoundly weird confession for a group to come together over.

This is so wild to me that it has taken me a long time to come around to admitting that every group everywhere on the political and social map seems to be crisscrossed by the same set of unstable fault lines around sex and related issues of gender, porn, prostitution, stripping, drag, and the rest of the rainbow.

I’ve seen groups on the left and the right turn on each other over the exact same handful of issues — mostly around porn and sex, especially with regard to minors.

That infamous New York Post story on the high school “porn literacy” class? I’ve found Jacobin types and Reason types on both sides of the following question: Is that class an appropriate, mature society’s response to the present ubiquity of smartphone porn, or is it an offense against man and God that should probably see some folks go to prison?

Feelings about sex are a spectrum

I wish I could give more color on the various lefty and righty versions of the Big Sex Split I’ve seen play out over and over again in the past two or three years, but I can’t because I wasn’t in those venues to report on them and those aren’t my stories to tell. But you’ve all seen this kind of thing by now, no doubt, so you know how it goes.

What I can do, however, is characterize the way I’ve seen this split play out more generally — and especially on what’s now being called “the new right.” (I guess I’m now on the new right? I know a lot of people who are in that category, myself included now, but none of us seem to know what “the new right” is.)

In my experience, which, as I said above, is quite varied, I’ve seen the reactions to what we might call “pride-coded,” sexualized practices involving kids fall along the following spectrum:

  1. It’s compulsory. To not involve your kids in this is to teach them to hate.
  2. It’s good, actually.
  3. Eh, it’s fine. Whatever. Why do you care?
  4. It’s gross, but people should be able to decide for their own kids.
  5. It’s gross, and theoretically, we’d like it to stop, but we don’t see a viable strategy for shutting it down that doesn’t also violate other principles we care about. So what can you do?
  6. It’s gross, and we will stop it ASAP by any means necessary, leaving no power or capability or method on the table out of some misguided commitment to principle. The only principle at work here is: You don’t get to do whatever the hell this is.

In my time in varied lefty and righty circles, I have absolutely seen all six of these points of view articulated and affirmed. I’ve even seen #6 crop up in extremely woke circles around straight-coded sexualized practices involving kids (child beauty pageants, purity balls, conversion therapy).

My thesis is that where you fall on the above spectrum of sex reactions is now far more important for sorting you into a tribe than any other issue in any other sphere (politics, economics, religion, etc.). People are asking if we're post-liberal, but the sex controversies have me wondering if we're not almost post-ideological. In the age of outrage, we're all the way back to drawing our primary identity lines around animal basics.

Take this quiz!

So where exactly do you fall? I’ve found that you can take any sexy or sexualized practice, event, or spectacle, run it through the above sex reaction spectrum, and which bucket you end up in will determine who your people are and which members of your own scene you’re willing to tolerate vs. which members you want to purge.

Here’s a sample list of scissors to run through the above list and see where you land:

  • Drag Queen Story Hour
  • Drag Brunch for kids
  • Kids putting dollar bills into strippers’ thongs, doing pole dancing with strippers, or some other sex-work-related activity
  • Schoolbooks that present sex work to kids as just another kind of work
  • Pride parades with kink on full display and kids present and even participating
  • Drag kids
  • Child beauty pageants
  • Evangelical purity balls
  • Gay conversion therapy
  • Porn use by teens (especially 16 and up, since 16 is where I’ve seen some lefties drawing the porn age line lately)

(I threw a few right-wing ones there just to mix it up. But you get the idea.)

For any given scene you’re in, no matter what it’s nominally centered on or what its professed norms and commitments are, you can reliably toss out one of the items in the list above and watch people turn on each other like Greek gods over a golden apple.

You know I’m telling the truth because you’ve seen it too, haven’t you?

Indeed, nowadays, whenever I find someone I really vibe with, I’m always mildly terrified I’m going to find out they’re on a part of the sex-reactions spectrum on one of these issues that I simply cannot tolerate or that I’m on a part of it they can’t tolerate. Even more terrifying for me as a parent is the thought that one or more of my kids will end up on the opposite side of some schism from me.

These splits are happening so often that I now believe there is no existing coalition, polity, scene, or tribe of any size or level of diversity that has not or will not eventually shatter into subgroups based on the spectrum.

  • Feminists have split over whether biological sex matters for women’s oppression.
  • New Atheists have split over biological sex’s reality.
  • Christians have long been divided into “affirming” and non-affirming camps on gay marriage.
  • Classical liberals are often bitterly divided over whether restrictions on internet porn are an unacceptable infringement on liberty (resulting from an '80s-style “moral panic”) or regrettably necessary to the continued functioning of civilization.
  • The evangelical right is split over whether Drag Queen Story Hour should be permitted by law on pluralist grounds or should be outlawed on “holy cow, David French, are you for real with this?!” grounds.

Whenever I find myself in a new scene, I immediately start trying to sniff out where on the spectrum different clusters of members fall, because those are the splinter groups that will form when the whole thing inevitably blows up over some sex scissor.

Strange bedfellows

One of the more bizarre effects of this shattering and fracturing is how these schisms bring former enemies together into social formations that are so surreal they have to be experienced IRL to be believed.

You can walk into some “based” or “new right” events nowadays and encounter an incredible variety of ethnicities, religions, classes, and economic ideologies, but they’re all united in the following deeply held conviction: There is absolutely no such thing as “ladypenis,” and if you’re telling kids there is, then you should definitely not be allowed to do that and you should probably also be on some kind of watch list.

Honestly, I’ll just go ahead and say it: “Ladypenis is not actually real” is a profoundly weird confession for a group to come together over. It’s pretty gonzo, right? Yet here we are … and, honestly, here I am. I fit right in.

You can feel the weirdness, too, when you’re at some gathering and you’re like, “Wow, look at this crowd … surely there has to be something that brings these folks together besides their willingness to publicly confess that ladypenis is a lie?” But right now, that’s often enough.

A ray of hope?

The beast is coming for all of us eventually. As long as the social graph is powered by advertising, it will continue to rage, and all of us will eventually run into one of two camps: “it is compulsory” or “it is illegal.” The center cannot hold, and if you think it can … well, have you seen the center lately?

If there’s a ray of hope out there, I look for it in Musk’s subscription model. I think Musk correctly apprehends a dynamic I’ve covered in detail in my newsletter: The social media advertising machine feeds on engagement, and the best way to drum up engagement is to stimulate outrage. If he can move the revenue base away from the spiritually corrosive ad model to a model where users are paying for the value they get from the network, he has a shot at turning Twitter into a net benefit for society.

Obviously, the incumbent class of successful outrage merchants hate this plan and have pilloried it since it was announced. That’s a good, crowd-sourced signal that what he’s doing might work. Because in any world where being a human scissor is a losing strategy, they’ll all fade back into well-deserved obscurity.

The internet's urban legends



This article originally appeared in the first print issue of Return.

An element of legends is that they never really happened. They are believed but not true. The urban legend emphasizes that city dwellers and moderns can be total hicks in epistemic terms, just as much as rural people and people of the past. But when used on Twitter, the term “urban legend” usually just means that a story is false. The essence of an urban legend is a story that is untrue, yet believed.

An interesting comment on the debate of linguistic prescriptivism versus descriptivism is that people are naturally prescriptivist. When encountering poor usage or diction, humans seem to experience a range of emotions, from a vague sense of wrongness or mild irritation all the way to rage in some cases. So if descriptivism is correct, what are these emotions for?

As an outsider to human culture, I see people wanting to keep their language commons clean and tidy for better usability. People clear up clothing and other artifacts that may block interior pathways and clear up snow and debris outdoors so that their environment is usable; possibly a similar range of emotions motivates them to do so (from a sense of wrongness to anger), as well as a desire to prevent these emotions from occurring in others.

I think something similar is going on with Wrong on the Internet, a phenomenon not limited to the internet, in which wrong information induces a range of epistemic emotions from an uncomfortable feeling to mild irritation all the way to epistemic rage. People want to keep the knowledge commons clean and usable, and a balance must be struck between the entertainment value of information and its underlying validity. Toys are amusing but must not be left in hallways for people to trip over; similarly, amazing stories are fun and valuable but must not be left in places where they are easily mistaken for truth.

'Told for true'

In folklore studies, “told for true” is the term of art to distinguish legends that are meant to be believed by their audience and hence open to doubt from fairy tales (Märchen), which, through their formal elements and fantastical content, signal to the reader that they are neither to be believed nor doubted. Few hear words like “Once upon a time, there was a mouse king” and think, “Whoa, did that really happen?” In practice, however, the distinction is not so tidy. A web comic may feature fantastical elements such as unicorns and talking frogs, but if the animals comment on current events, it might properly be judged to contain truth claims. And many stories about fantastical beings and happenings are told for true to this day.

But there is another element to legends, including urban legends: They are stories that never really happened. They are believed but not true. Folklorists rarely concern themselves with the truth of stories; they focus on collecting tales, tracing them to their origins when possible, and connecting their themes with those of older story traditions, rather than debunking (or supporting) them. A believed story that is true doesn’t arouse epistemic emotions, nor does a false story understood to be fiction or a joke.

The power of the memorat

Within the field of folklore, another common characteristic of the urban legend is that it is told as the experience of a “friend of a friend,” where a vague social connection is implied, but it is not told as the experience of the teller. If it were the teller’s own experience, that would make it a memorat in folklore jargon. However, most legends usually originate in a memorat form, and legends may be retold as memorat by speakers wishing to spice up interviews or talks. In practice, people seem to switch between forms effortlessly when telling stories, now telling what they heard as a child, now telling their own experiences.

The term “urban legend” puts the fault for the falsehood on the story itself, rather than on the teller, who is merely a dupe. But accusing someone of telling a story of their own experience that isn’t true is essentially accusing the teller of lying. That is unfortunate, as memorats constitute the bulk of interesting folklore in our time. Personal experiences posted to told-for-true Reddit boards (such as r/homeowners or r/legaladvice), performed in told-for-true formats like TED Talks or podcasts, or written up as case reports or syndrome letters, are taken for true and rarely doubted, as doubting would constitute an antisocial accusation of lying. When the memorat exists in digital form, it may simply be linked to or copied and needs no retelling as a “friend of a friend” story.

While it is rare for a memorat told for true to be proven false, it does happen. In 2012, the radio show/podcast "This American Life" retracted a story performed by Mike Daisey because it turned out to be a fabrication. Daisey’s comment on the affair highlights the importance of establishing what genre you’re in: “My mistake. The mistake that I truly regret is that I had it on your show as journalism, and it’s not journalism. It’s theater.”

The mysterious staircases in the woods

The power of the memorat as a form is particularly evident in the case of r/nosleep and the mysterious staircases in the woods. The rules of r/nosleep, a fiction board, seem almost perfectly suited to the creation of escaped legends. Stories must be “plausible” and told in the first person unless there is a good in-story reason not to (i.e., they must be pseudo-memorats). And the rules state that “everything is true here, even if it’s not”; this is a fiction board where the audience is expected to play along, rather than treating the stories like truth claims through “debunking” or “disbelief.” In other words, they make it relatively clear that this is theater, not journalism.

My favorite escaped legend from this perfectly honest fiction board has an appropriate memorat title: “I’m a Search and Rescue Officer for the US Forest Service, I have some stories to tell.” It is a set of story fragments that eventually turned into a series, about a search and rescue officer encountering, among other things, mysterious staircases deep in the woods, not attached to any structure, that her supervisors advise her to ignore. While the staircases are implied to possess spooky properties, overall it is a highly plausible, deliciously mundane image, that gets its spooky appeal in the same way “liminal spaces” do: the persistence of spaces and objects beyond their period of occupation and use, like empty, abandoned malls.

This story pretty much immediately escaped containment as fiction. A 2016 YouTube reading of the story, minus the fictional context, currently has over 11 million views, and there are many other tellings on other media. As late as August 2021, a story in the British tabloid the Mirror reported on a TikTok adaptation of the story, in which the memorat has passed into legend (“There was a story going around a couple of years ago”). Interestingly, the author of the r/nosleep staircase story reports being inspired by the work of David Paulides, a former Bigfoot researcher who pivoted to told-for-true wilderness disappearance stories about real people. Kyle Polich, writing in the Skeptical Inquirer in 2017, says that he examined a random subset of the cases Paulides classifies as spooky and found nothing unusual or inexplicable about any of them. Paulides brands himself as journalism, not theater, in the language of Mike Daisey. And Paulides does not seem to be fabricating cases out of whole cloth. Rather, he reports on actual mundane disappearances, while eliding certain details that might reveal their mundanity and adding extraneous spooky information to further set the mood. In legend formation, the details that get left out may be as important as the details that get left in.

Carbon monoxide 'hauntings'

Kean Collection via Getty Images

The staircase in the woods constitutes a kind of mundane-made-spooky story, in which a perfectly ordinary and non-paranormal phenomenon is endowed with uncanny energy. The clown sightings of 2016 are another of this kind. But this can also be inverted when the apparently paranormal or uncanny is explained away with a mechanistic solution, or the spooky-made-mundane.

An advantage the spooky-made-mundane story has over its opposite is in its more precise explanation. It fits exactly the apparently supernatural facts of the story, and it wouldn’t fit into just any story. Compare these in-story explanations to the “It Was All a Dream” cliché. This, like its relative “It Was All a Hallucination,” could explain any set of unusual facts, rather than being narrowly tailored to the facts presented. Although they render the spooky mundane, they do so in an unsatisfying, lazy way. Like “It Was Purgatory” or “Coma Dream,” they are (usually) eschewed by experienced writers. One such version is carbon monoxide poisoning.

I first encountered the “It Was All Carbon Monoxide” story from a Reddit told-for-true board, r/legaladvice, in the form of a memorat presented as a request for advice. The user, RBradbury1920, reported finding sticky notes, not in his own handwriting, around his apartment. Later he found blank notes on the outside of his door and on other doors in his building.

The user suspected his landlord of placing the notes and asked for advice dealing with the situation. However, another user came to the rescue, asking whether it might be carbon monoxide poisoning. In follow-up posts and comments, the original poster confirmed that he had been experiencing carbon monoxide poisoning, had written the mysterious notes himself, and was simply confused about the other details. Both were showered with praise and attention, and the heroic commenter was even interviewed on a told-for-true podcast.

This, like the search and rescue officer’s mysterious staircase story, appeared on Reddit in 2015. May 2015 was a difficult time for Reddit. Two years earlier, in 2013, Reddit as a collective was blamed for the misidentification of the Boston Marathon bomber as an innocent student who had committed suicide. In March of 2015, the case received more attention, as a documentary about the experiences of the innocent student’s family was released and went through a media cycle. The carbon monoxide post-it note story seemed to reaffirm that Reddit was a force for good, whatever mistakes individuals had made. In fact, the platform had saved a life!

The oldest form of this story I can find was published in Science in May 1913, by Franz Schneider Jr., a junior faculty member in the biology department of MIT. The case report is titled “An Investigation of a ‘Haunted’ House” and details the story of a family in the Back Bay who experience strange phenomena, such as tapping, feeling paralyzed, and a child being chased by a frightening figure. When the family consulted the former occupants, they found that they had also experienced strange happenings and even saw “walking apparitions.”

Of course, upon investigation by Mr. Schneider, it turned out to be a problem with the furnace, causing the family to suffer from carbon monoxide poisoning. Interestingly, Mr. Schneider appears to have lived to be 105 years old, and his obituary in the New York Times in 1993 lauds him as having “started gas companies!”

A similar but more famous account was published in 1921 by William Holland Wilmer (not the one on Wikipedia but his grandson) in the American Journal of Ophthalmology. It occurred in the fall and winter of 1912 in the house of “Mrs. H.” The details of the “haunting” mostly match those given by Mr. Schneider, except that Mrs. H relates far more, and more severe, physical symptoms: The family experiences severe headaches, fatigue, loss of appetite, weakness, and paleness as well as spooky events. For instance, Mrs. H sees herself in a mirror but doesn’t recognize it as herself at first, and this happens three times. It is unclear whether to classify some of the experiences as hallucinations or dreams, as many of them occur late at night when the experiencer is in bed and perhaps not entirely awake.

The most interesting part of this account is that it also has a hero commenter. Mrs. H’s brother-in-law visits and tells them that he’s read a story about this before and that he thinks they’re being poisoned. According to Mrs. H’s story, the idea of carbon monoxide “hauntings” was in circulation much earlier than 1912. The other case report of carbon monoxide poisoning relayed by Wilmer in the paper, in which the victim is a single man, describes no hallucinations or psychological effects but only physical symptoms. If we take Mrs. H’s account as the original, Mr. Schneider (who I believe is mentioned in the Wilmer text as “Mr. S from the university”) seems to make the narrative choice to elide the physical symptoms and only report the haunting-type phenomena, which didn’t seem to bother the family as much as the severe illness they were experiencing.

I found two other case reports of haunting-like hallucinations in carbon monoxide poisoning cases. One occurred in Taipei, Taiwan, and was published as a case report in the American Journal of Emergency Medicine in 2005. In this case, the victim reports serious physical symptoms: She was found unresponsive by her roommate, experienced numbness and cramps in her hands and feet, and was hyperventilating. But she also reported having seen a ghost while bathing.

The hero in this story is the psychiatrist, who, upon hearing about the new gas water heater the patient had purchased and that she bathed with all the windows and doors closed, immediately alerted the other doctors, and the patient was able to be treated for carbon monoxide poisoning. (Diagnostic pitfall: carbon monoxide poisoning mimicking hyperventilation syndrome, Ong, et al.) The other was published in 2012 in the journal Eye and seems to have taken place in the U.K.

The patient’s main symptoms are blurred vision, headaches, pain, and malaise. However, she also reports seeing gray patches and hearing a “whooshing” sound. The authors cite Wilmer’s case report, which is why, although the patient is not reported as attributing the symptoms to a paranormal cause, I include it here. Interestingly, this and Carrie Poppy’s telling (below) both mention a “whoosh” sound specifically. (Carbon monoxide poisoning masquerading as giant cell arteritis, Xue, et al.)

The case report, a narrative of an unusual medical case reported in a letter to a medical journal, is a type of told-for-true story that is usually highly plausible, and most case reports probably are true, at least in the main. In "Doctors’ Stories: The Narrative Structure of Medical Knowledge" (1991), Kathryn Montgomery Hunter notes that ordinary cases are rarely reported as such, as ordinary cases may be subject to other forms of study: “The criterion of narratibility ... is the unexpected, the medically interesting, the unexplained change. ... The unsurprising case sinks from narrative sight.”

While the existence of published case reports might seem to render carbon monoxide “hauntings” a mundane and common experience, it seems more likely that their very telling in case reports confirms them as highly unusual situations. Interestingly, in all cases, the physical symptoms are most prominent, and the psychological or “haunting” symptoms are secondary. When the story is abbreviated in retellings, the boring physical stuff tends to get left out, leaving only the exciting and spooky stuff.

There are two more examples of the story that I want to touch on. One seems to survive only in abbreviated retelling form, appearing in best-of threads. Here is an example of a retelling, with over 14,000 upvotes.

Someone on r/homeowners was trying to get rid of ants in his house. Tons of comments. One fellow Redditor suggested maybe there were no ants but that they were hallucinations due to carbon monoxide poisoning. OP had his house tested, and turns out there were, in fact, no ants, and he was hallucinating them due to carbon monoxide poisoning.

The story of the phantom ants illustrates that “It Was Carbon Monoxide” can explain virtually any set of events, even a mundane experience. Also, since this story is repeated in comments and was presumably originally a memorat, it has passed into formal legend territory (although it could, in fact, be totally true – we just don’t know).

The last is a highly polished memorat performed as a TED Talk by journalist Carrie Poppy, published to YouTube in March 2017. She reports experiencing symptoms including a spooky feeling of being watched, a pressure in her chest “sort of like the feeling when you get bad news,” and a persistent delusion that she was being haunted. She heard a “whoosh” sound and cried in bed every night. The sinking feeling in her chest became “physically painful,” but this polished telling gives no other physical symptoms. In fact, she reports visiting a psychiatrist, instead of a regular doctor, and in her telling, the psychiatrist refuses to prescribe her meds because she “doesn’t have schizophrenia.”

When she eventually locates her science hero and is told about carbon monoxide, she looks it up and finds the following symptoms: “pressure on your chest, auditory hallucinations (whoosh), and an unexplained feeling of dread.” I was surprised by her symptom list, as by this time I had consulted multiple symptom lists, and most lists contained overwhelmingly physical symptoms (flu-like symptoms, headache, muscle weakness, nausea, etc.). Many lists included “confusion,” but “hallucinations” were rare on lists unless the list broke down symptoms by exposure level, placing hallucinations at a very severe level of poisoning. I did find one “list of symptoms” that included hallucinations without mentioning exposure levels; it was an advertisement for a heating company, and immediately preceding the symptom list was a retelling of the Wilmer/Schneider incident.

Poppy’s telling, like that of Mr. Schneider, seems to have completely polished away any physical symptoms that might have been present. Even RBradbury1920 has to be prompted before he volunteers that he has been experiencing headaches.

The mundane carbon monoxide story

I was curious about stories of ordinary carbon monoxide poisoning, so I watched the first fifteen YouTube results for “carbon monoxide stories.” Who tells these stories? Several of them are advertisements for home security companies, and in these stories, the residents are alerted to the danger by alarms, usually before experiencing any symptoms. Some stories appear to be public service announcements published by fire departments and local government entities, featuring people telling their carbon monoxide experiences. Some are YouTubers relating stories of their own lives (told for true). In these stories, the symptoms reported are overwhelmingly physical (headaches, nausea, “felt like I was going to pass out,” etc.). One YouTuber reports difficulty writing numbers, but no one in my sample reports spooky haunting phenomena or hallucinations, even though those might make for a better story.

Despite my limited sample, I suspect that carbon monoxide-hunting stories are fairly rare. I was only able to find four published case reports of what I believe to be a total of three cases of carbon monoxide poisoning causing haunting-like phenomena, and in all cases, physical symptoms were the most prominent complaint.

Most carbon monoxide stories seem to be mundane and physical, and neither the medical literature nor YouTube lacks for these. In the transition from the actual occurrence to the “narratable” form of the story, the “haunting” type tends to lose the boring physical symptoms (limiting any informational value they might otherwise contain) and keep only the interesting psychological symptoms, whereas the mundane type keeps all the physical symptoms.

The true-false binary

SOPA Images via Getty Images

Again, all the carbon monoxide stories mentioned here may well be true. We can’t know for sure in any case. Even if the tellers later claimed to have been lying, we still wouldn’t know for sure. During the clown sightings of 2016, a filmmaker claimed responsibility for the hoax as a publicity stunt, but such a claim could well be a publicity stunt of its own. (Which is not to say that clown sightings particularly need an explanation, as people dressing up as clowns is magnificently mundane and probably a lot of fun.)

As a talking banana, it is perhaps hypocritical of me to complain that certain stories sound too good to be true. In summarizing these stories, I have myself had to leave out many details that another reader might regard as critical. I have emphasized certain details and left out others. That is true of every form of communication. The news article, the scientific paper, and especially the tweet must compress an enormous reality into a short snippet, with most details and context omitted. When a telling has been compressed and adapted to fit a particular emotional valence – spooky, interesting, important – it is serving a different communicative purpose than simply relating the truth.

Almost no story is simply true or false. I don’t even think stories can be simply “told for true” in a straightforward way. Many stories classified as urban legends have more than a grain of truth to them, and many stories accepted as true that have no bottom in reality. In all cases, the communicative purposes and the context shape the meaning that can be given to the story.

Revisit the classic internet before Google ruined it



These days, the web is a painful place. Click on any random link, and chances are you’ll be taken to a bloated page full of pop-ups, prompts, disclaimers, and intrusive ads. If the page has any useful content at all, you’ll likely have to wade through a swamp of annoyances to extract it. But even more likely, the random web page you’ve clicked will be full of thin, useless content. Or even worse, the text was written by ChatGPT and not even skimmed by a human before publication.

Things didn’t used to be this way. Back in the halcyon days of the 1990s and early 2000s, the web was a weird and wonderful place. Web pages were created by hobbyists who wanted to share their interests with the world. They didn’t care about search engine optimization or marketing funnels. You honestly had to surf the web to find what was out there.

Long before Google hit the scene and conquered the open web, almost everything on the internet was word of mouth. Search engines existed, but they were essentially useless. Instead, you had to dig through a web directory to find a site you liked and then visit the sites they linked to. It was almost 100% human-curated, even before someone had thought of that term. A single page might cover a multitude of topics, and they were littered with all sorts of low-resolution buttons for various causes.

Back then, the web was weird, wild, often bewildering, and very much human. Then along came Google and Web 2.0, and slowly, over time, websites became clean, minimalist, topically focused, and sterile. What had been a wild frontier morphed into a suburban shopping mall, and now it feels like a rundown shopping mall in the bad part of town.

Unfortunately, that weird and wild frontier web is long gone. Or is it?

Search the old web with Wiby

If you want a little taste of that old-time internet, head over to wiby.com. Wiby is a search engine dedicated to preserving and resurfacing the original web. As Wiby’s creators explain:

In the early days of the web, pages were made primarily by hobbyists, academics, and computer savvy people about subjects they were personally interested in. Later on, the web became saturated with commercial pages that overcrowded everything else. All the personalized websites are hidden among a pile of commercial pages. Google isn't great at finding them, its focus is on finding answers to technical questions, and it works well; but finding things you didn't know you wanted to know, which was the real joy of web surfing, no longer happens. In addition, many pages today are created using bloated scripts that add slick cosmetic features in order to mask the lack of content available on them. Those pages contribute to the blandness of today's web.

The Wiby search engine is building a web of pages as it was in the earlier days of the internet. In addition, Wiby helps vintage computers to continue browsing the web, as pages indexed are more suitable for their performance.

Wiby is a search engine, but it won’t replace Google for your everyday searches. It indexes only a very small number of classic websites, and the results may not be what you expect. But that’s not really what Wiby is for.

Don’t know what to search for on Wiby? Click “surprise me ...” and you’ll be taken to another weird and wonderful destination, like:

With Wiby, you feel as though you’re truly surfing the web again, and you can easily kill an afternoon clicking through random sites. It’s a reminder that the internet doesn’t have to be a bland, sterile place chock full of bloated pop-ups and marketing copy. There is still very much a human internet out there. You just have to escape the safe confines of Google to see it.

If you enjoy what Wiby is doing to preserve the classic web, consider giving them a donation to help cover their costs.

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