It didn't take long for the internet to turn into 1970s Times Square's digital equivalent. Everything is sea-weeded in salty, leeching, tasteless garbage masquerading as business or advertising. You feel like you could be mugged at any moment.

There are a few chief offenders in this race to bottom of horrible online user experirence. Ads slide out, pop out, pop up, mislabel, mislead, and trash your brain while you try to find what you'd imagine is the simplest information. The assault is so brutal, it ought to be brought on charges for thought-pollution.

Never mind why these sites launch the bombardment. That should be obvious. Which sites are the worst is the truly notable point:

Visibility and volume have been stolen by tasteless crybabies. They possess no agenda, only to dislike, wall off, and counteract. Haters shriek plain simplicities with no sincerity.

It's been some time now since the video game landscape was introduced to the Devil May Cry reboot: DmC, and it remains an undervalued gem, chipped and clouded by morons addicted to their elusive, childish wonder, forever in the rearview.

This is a recurring segment, with a recently-updated title, "Simple Answers," where I gather the questions I come across on the Internet in a given week, and provide a straightforward answer.

This week's question again concerns clickbait.

Clickbait: your secret six-times per-day interaction with Russia you probably weren't looking forward to.

Here's your chance to have a simple question answered.

The hat, or "cap" has become a natural resource in flux in the United States, the North American continent, and the world 'round. While formerly a tool of destruction and creation in generations past, both shading farmers' faces and firing ultraviolet rays back into the sky in defiance of God's light, the simple hat is now commonplace. It is a casual garment.

Both men and women stride in casual step through the streets, day and night, wearing hats, unaware.

They are unaware that hats may in fact be really stupid. Let's investigate.

This is a recurring segment, with a recently-updated title, "Simple Answers," where I gather the questions I come across on the Internet in a given week, and provide a straightforward answer.

This week's question again concerns the summertime mobile-phone phenomenon, Pokemon Go.

Never mind the fact that the game is inviting traumatized war veterans and autistic children to socialize in public in a safe environment, there are clusters of people that are outright opposed to the game.

Why is that?

This is a recurring segment, with a recently-updated title, "Simple Answers," where I gather the questions I come across on the Internet in a given week, and provide a straightforward answer.

This week's question again concerns the toxic trash-garden the internet becomes during the summertime.

It's all bad news, all the time, isn't it? It's all sensationalistic fireballs kicking off our brains. Why does it feel like it's a string of bad news in the summer time?

I remember when the internet and virtual reality became the new escapism for the non-conforming youth. Perhaps realer than the high-fantasy elves and goblins of generations prior because it was something the 90's rejects could actively live in. They could get away from the traditionalism that beat them down under pretense they defied.

So online, these rejects could share among one another. The sharper ones even had some measure of penetrating power online. And they had extra-special, secret names they gave themselves.

They could be anonymous, if they felt it. I get that freedom. It's a shield. They could vanish backward into anonymity, again, if they felt it.

Trouble is: that anonymity, that protectedness, that outcast mentality, it's burnt deep into the internet's bread and butter now. While once, it was a shield, now it's acid. The anonymity homogenizes and wounds online writing.

You've stared down the barrel of your Facebook timeline. You've felt the blood hot in your fingertips. Awareness has to be spread. It's an election year. Election years are horrible. People without the mental fiber to form thorough thoughts give way to medieval skull bludgeoning. The effort is simpler. The effect is similar. It works great on Facebook, too!

It's a waste. Not a total waste. Keeping atrocities top of mind, and who is responsible for them, is vital for remembering who the villain is. Social media does its job there.

But how can we assure the proper people receive the proper message?

Bi-partisanship is bad enough in America, and in the world, thanks to the wedge issues Republicans jammed into their palms in the early 2000s, and along with that, the need for subtlety was dragged down to the ocean floor. Combined with written information's ultra-proliferation, and non-empathetic interaction rising at roughly the same time, we've arrived at an Internet with its own weird, sad twin-language.

The need for singular, specific words lessened, as there were fewer states of mind we were capable of properly conveying via the internet's dominant, limiting pathways. There was no need to mold words together into thoughtful exercises that may exercise a reader, too. The internet defined its own shorthand lexicon and repeated the words and phrases until they were sub-cultural memes, a streamlined text-form communication fit for the medium.

Hey, everybody! It's the Internet! It's that galactic, pirouetting party that never gets shut down—because the sun never comes up in the Internet, dummy, Al Gore programmed it that way—full of conversation, debate, shouting, threats, and dicks, literal and metaphorical.