For better or worse, the Internet remains unbroken

Myth or not, I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of all the world’s knowledge being in one place, awaiting a disaster that leaves humanity with no past and no sense of self.

The Cloud was out for several hours, with repercussions across the net and hundreds of millions of lost dollars from that one cock-up. A few days earlier, an Amazon Web Services tech pressed the wrong button while performing a debugging procedure and really did break the Internet.

Nasty, brutish and short lives, pestilence, “bring out your dead,” etc. The important part is that a thousand years of Dark Ages followed.

Unless, of course, they’re already here.

Don Rickles was the father of insult comedy

Don’t they see where this can lead? The fools!

Paper magazine used the phrase after its nude photo of her receiving a butt-shower of bubbly became one of the most-seen photos ever.
Do stars divorce more than us?

Go Canada! Last month, the Hamilton Spectator reported that Conservative leadership candidate Kellie Leitch’s bizarre campaign video broke the Internet.


Because there’s certainly been a lot of breaking of the Internet going on.

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Happily, they all failed – though the structural integrity of the Internet is certainly in question.


This, at least, is the narrative as told by Carl Sagan in the opening of his book Cosmos – with special emphasis on the martyrdom of a woman scientist named Hypatia, the last librarian, ostensibly at the hands of a science-hating early-Christian mob.

Others think a major solar event could do it. Most think it’s unlikely. I’ve talked to tech wizards about it for years.
But the Dark Ages remain at bay – for now.

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Could all the world’s information be deleted? Could some disaster wipe out “The Cloud” and the various servers and hard-drives – a “network of networks” (or “a series of tubes”) – that combine to form the ‘Net?

Things we were told “broke the Internet” included Gangnam Style, the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, Warren Beatty messing up the Best Picture Oscar announcement, Steve Harvey messing up the Miss Universe announcement, Zayn Malik quitting One Direction and Miley Cyrus “twerking” Robin Thicke.

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Fittingly, the most over-exposed member of the most-overexposed family on the planet is considered the originator of the “breaking the Internet” meme.

(GETTY IMAGES) So many photos involving Kim Kardashian (including pics of husband Kanye West and son North) have blown up in cyberspace, that the Webby Awards last year gave her their first-ever Break The Internet Award.
Some day I will get around to writing a novel or script using our own 21st Century digital Library of Alexandria as a plot device. Then came the Internet.

Or maybe something as simple as Kim Kardashian’s booty could send us plunging into another millennium of ignorance.

But no. We’re still here, with our faces in our iPhones, and the Internet continues to break on a regular basis, threatening to take everything we know down with it.

All this talk about “breaking the Internet” has me mindful lately about the destruction of the Library of Alexandria.

And of course, host Ellen DeGeneres really did bring Twitter to its knees with her famous selfie-retweeted-round-the-world at the 2014 Oscars. The selfie she took, with Bradley Cooper, Jennifer Lawrence, Julia Roberts, Brad Pitt and Meryl Streep among others, was retweeted 255,000 times in a minute (3.3 million overall).

Print is dead, they tell me. In 2017, all the world’s knowledge is assumed to have been uploaded. Because, face it.

An epic cultural disaster – possibly exaggerated in scale and in the details of accounts – it supposedly saw “hard copies” of most classical knowledge in the Western world destroyed in 391 AD (if not before – again, accounts vary).

In fact, so many photos involving KK (including pics of husband Kanye West and son North) have blown up in cyberspace, that the Webby Awards last year gave her their first-ever Break The Internet Award.

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What if that had finally broken the Internet once and for all? Decades later – as we huddled around dumpster fires and adjusted the rabbit ears on that old cathode ray tube TV we found in a landfill – we would tell stories of the vengeful Hollywood gods whose faces were the last things we saw before “Error code 404” filled our screens forever, ushering in a thousand years of analog.