In my rural community, our local community groups often feel like a scene from a bizarre sitcom. At least three to five times a day, posts appear, ranting about the roads. Each complaint has more dramatic comments than the last and I often paused to marvel at the spectacle.
“Why don’t the city fix streets anymore?” one user declared “too worried about putting in that useless “round about” and spouting off theories that could only be taken from a conspiracy novel. The peculiar part? The roundabout wasn't even in our town; it was on a state highway maintained by the state highway department.
I pictured the commenters, hunched over their keyboards, eyes wide, hair frizzed from frustration, thumbs racing to keep up with the chaotic conversation. A brave soul attempted to introduce logic, only to be met with insults—"You're just bitter!" they cried, blinded by ignorance.
Secretly, I regularly ponder creating a Pinterest board or a scrapbook to archive these rants— "When Misinformed Meets the Internet." One day, in the twilight of my years, I could revisit these wild declarations, chuckling at the absurdity.
Yet, beneath the humor lay a twinge of sympathy for the misinformed. Their words, immortalized in the digital ether, revealed a troubling truth: in a community so connected, understanding we are often overshadowed by misguided fervor.
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