Internet: Weekly Summary (October 20-26, 2025)

I keep bumping into the same moods on the Internet this week. Some posts are grumpy, some nostalgic, some oddly tender. There’s humor too, the sort that makes you snort your tea. I would describe them as a mixed bag of worry and fondness. To me, it feels like standing at a bus stop where half the buses are modern and air-conditioned and the other half are rattling like they’re held together with duct tape. I’d say readers who like a bit of history, a bit of polemic, and a dash of small, human moments will find something to chew on here.

The week's atmosphere — small, loud, and familiar

A few pieces this week pull the blanket of nostalgia tight. Others lean into alarm about the present, and some try to imagine something else. That’s the beat: memory, critique, and recipes — not the cooking kind, but the social kind. The voices are varied. Some nudge toward policy. Some just laugh. Some ask, what happens next if we keep doing what we do now?

It’s not all doom and gloom. There’s also work-in-progress optimism. Like people patching a fence after a storm. It’s messy. It’s earnest. And, well, it’s human.

Humor and the internet’s personality

The Font of Dubious Wisdom writes a short, funny thing about the online reaction to the Louvre heist. It’s playful. It’s cheeky. People on the web joked about checking the British Museum next. That moment is small. But it tells you something about how the Internet handles news now. The takeaway isn’t the news itself. It’s the way people turn a serious event into a string of jokes and references.

I would describe that behavior as a kind of defense. Like a neighbour cracking a joke when someone drops a box of dishes. You don’t fix the dishes with the joke. You survive the moment.

That post is quick to read and quick to like. But it’s a reminder: not everything viral is shallow. Sometimes the laughter is a way of mapping a story into a shared culture. It’s messy. It’s also very human.

Corporate control and the longing for a different net

One of the more bitter pieces came from Justin Cox. He straight-up says the Internet was doomed from the start. He pulls up Neal Stephenson’s Snow Crash — remember that Metaverse dream? — and measures it against the current reality. Spoiler: the reality is corporate gardens fenced with algorithms.

There’s a clear critique in there. Big companies shape what people see. They reward the loud and the grabby. They ignore nuance. Justin argues that this feeds misinformation and that it makes people believe they know more than they do — the old Dunning-Kruger effect. He’s not trying to be neutral. He’s mad, and he wants the Internet to go back to something less tidy and more user-run.

This is not a new gripe. But this week it sounded urgent. The call for decentralization keeps getting louder. People aren’t just nostalgic. Many of them are practical. They want a web where communities matter more than ad dollars. I’d say that’s a reasonable demand. But how you get there? Justin thinks collective action and rules that aren’t just corporate profit rules.

If you want grumpy and serious, read him. If you want solutions, he hints at them, but it’s more of a call to arms than a policy paper. It reads like someone waving a flag.

Who builds the Internet — the demographic angle

There’s a different slant in Heather Flanagan’s piece about demographics. She argues that the future of the Internet is deeply demographic. Talent matters, she says. Places with shrinking populations will struggle to keep shaping the net. Places with young populations could take over. That’s simple to say, but it opens a lot of doors.

Heather walks through the usual suspects: the U.S., China, Europe, South Korea, and then Africa. Africa is the interesting wildcard. Young people. A lot of potential. But it’s not automatic. You need education, investment, standards participation. If the young don’t show up at the tables where standards are made, what gets built will reflect the priorities of older regions. That’s the point she wants loud and clear.

To me, it feels like watching a relay race where the baton gets dropped because a runner never turned up. There’s talent out there. The worry is that global governance and standards are still run by folks who are, well, older and comfortable with things the way they are. Heather wants a more representative future. I’d say it’s a sensible push, and one that’s quietly crucial.

Her piece is not an angry polemic. It’s more like a sober memo. Still, it nudges you to think across decades, not just the next quarter.

Good Internet citizenship — curation, not chaos

Speaking of smaller, friendlier spaces, Michael Bateman wrote about what he calls "Good Internet Citizenship." He’s tracking a shift away from algorithm-fed feeds toward private, curated spaces. Think group messages, email lists, curated blogrolls. He’s trying to make curation feel like a civic act.

That piece is quietly hopeful. It’s practical too. Michael talks about monthly links, about people who do the hard job of curating useful stuff. He names tools and people. He’s basically saying: if you care about what you see, become a better curator. Teach other people. Share links in a way that helps, not harms.

I would describe his tone as quietly evangelical. Not in a pushy way, but in the way someone insists you try good bread because it’s actually better. He’s optimistic about small acts making a difference. It’s like telling people to keep the neighbourhood clean by sweeping the porch every morning. It’s low-tech, but it matters.

There’s a link here with the decentralization crowd. Curation can be the scaffolding for healthier communities. It's not the whole answer. It’s a piece.

Tech, addiction, DARPA, and the wilding of life

Now here’s a darker turn. Hrvoje Morić reviews Shannon Rowan’s book, The Red Shoes. It reads like a history lesson and a warning. Rowan argues that tools turned into masters. Screens and EMF and the rest aren’t just conveniences. They change us, especially kids.

Hrvoje lays out the book’s claims: DARPA and cold-war projects seeded many of today’s systems. Tech shapes behaviour. It can be addictive. Rowan’s answer is unusual: rewilding. By that she means less screen time, more time in the wild, and reclaiming human rhythms. It’s a return to basics.

The review is part alarm bell, part pep talk. People will either nod along or roll their eyes. For some, the "rewild" idea will sound woo-woo. For others, it will sound like a badly needed breath of fresh air. To me, it feels like putting your phone in a drawer at dinner. Simple. Hard. Worth trying.

There’s also a historical angle here. The book traces some of the tech’s origins back to military projects. It’s useful context. It changes how you feel about some modern tools if you see the original motives. That doesn’t mean everything about tech is evil. But the review makes plain that the reasons behind things matter.

Mushroom networks and elegance in nature

Then there’s the odd and lovely metaphor in Michael W Lucas’s short piece where he compares mushroom networks to computer networks. The Humungous Fungus becomes a foil for the Internet. The point is simple: fungus networks are interoperable. They work without negotiation. They don’t need meetings about APIs.

This is where the Internet literature gets playful. Michael uses fungi to show how complexity in tech might be unnecessary. He jokes about mushrooms being edible and computers not. That’s a silly line, but it’s also a telling contrast. Nature has solved certain problems with elegance. Human tech builds layers on top of layers.

I’d say that piece is a small, tasteful reminder that sometimes solutions are obvious when you look at how life does it. It’s a quick read. It’s also a little balm for the overloaded brain.

Archives, old modems, and the joy of remembering

Phil Gyford went the archive route. He publishes scans and notes from his early online days in 1995. There’s an invoice for a modem. Instructions typed on old paper. Handwritten bits. That stuff makes the past tactile. It’s not just nostalgia for nostalgia’s sake. It’s a way to remember how awkward and slow and thrilling being online first was.

Phil’s post is the sort of thing that makes you smile at the low-fi charm of it. People who were online then will feel a pang. People who weren’t might learn. It’s like finding your old school photos. Slightly embarrassing. Mostly precious.

To me, these kinds of posts serve a double purpose. They make the Internet feel less like a single, ever-updating feed and more like a life with chapters. They also remind us how much infrastructure has changed. That’s instructive. It helps explain why some folks want parts of the old Internet back.

Creative metrics and small wins

Then there’s a short, bright note from Lee Peterson — an Unsplash milestone. One million views. No money. No offers. Just a surprising number and a tiny celebration. People who make things online know this exact feeling. It’s like inviting folks to a party and many of them saying hi, but no one staying for dinner.

There’s a bittersweet quality here. The Internet can give reach without reward. It can give applause without pay. Lee’s piece is a tiny reminder that success here is complicated. It’s not just about money. Sometimes it’s about being seen.

Recurring themes — things I kept seeing

Some ideas keep turning up in different forms. I’ll list a few, but not in a dry checklist way. Think of these as the threads on a jumper. Pull one and the whole pattern shows.

• Control vs. community. Justin’s criticism of corporate spaces and Michael Bateman’s call for better curation are two sides of the same coin. One says the space is captured. The other says we can build better habits in it. Both want people to have more agency.

• Nostalgia and learning. Phil’s scans and the mushroom metaphor both invite us to look back and sideways. There’s a curiosity about how we got here and whether older, simpler models might help.

• Demographics and power. Heather’s demographic analysis is a cold, structural reminder that the Internet’s future isn’t only about tech. It’s about who is at the table, who’s being trained, and who’s included in standards.

• Mental health and reclaiming life. Hrvoje’s review of Rowan’s book brings home the human cost. Screens aren’t neutral. They compete with sleep and attention. People are trying to find ways back to something quieter.

• Small signals matter. The Louvre-jokes post and the Unsplash milestone show that small moments still have weight. Viral doesn’t always equal shallow. Sometimes it’s a kind of social glue.

You’ll notice agreement in some places and friction in others. People generally agree that the Internet as presently organized has problems. They diverge on the remedies. Some want policy and structure. Some want better personal habits. Some want global shifts in representation. They’re not mutually exclusive. They just point to different scales of action.

Points of tension and questions I kept asking

There are a few sticky spots.

One: who gets to decide the rules? Justin wants collective regulation. Heather says standards need younger representation. Michael wants better curation by individuals. Each answer asks for different levers. Regulation is political. Standards are technical. Curation is cultural. Which lever matters most? Probably all of them. But which one moves fast enough to stop the next wave of harms? That’s the hard, real question.

Two: how much can small communities fix large-scale problems? Michael Bateman’s monthly links and curated spaces are lovely. They’re also, by design, niche. If we all go back to small groups, do we end up fragmented? Or do small groups become the building blocks of a healthier net? There’s merit either way. But the tension is real.

Three: what role does nostalgia play? Phil’s archive and the mushroom piece ask for simple pleasures. But sometimes nostalgia glosses over inequality and exclusion. The Internet in 1995 was also a gated club. So the longing for the old net needs balance with the need for a more inclusive future. That’s not a dismissal of nostalgia. It’s just a moderator on it.

Little analogies that stuck with me

• The Internet as a village green: full of gossip, concerts, and a few folks setting up market stalls. Some stalls are run by big companies who own the square. Some are run by neighbours sharing jam. That captures a lot of this week’s argument.

• Fungus network vs. computer network: like comparing a family recipe that everyone knows how to cook to a Michelin menu that needs a dozen chefs and a bill. The recipe is robust. The Michelin menu is fragile and elegant. Both have value. But the recipe scales better.

• Curation like sweeping the porch: small daily acts that keep the place livable. Not glamorous. Necessary.

• Reach without pay: like throwing a successful dinner party and then being asked to run it every week for free. Fun, but not sustainable.

Who might like which piece

• If you want a laugh and a quick cultural fix: read The Font of Dubious Wisdom.

• If you want a sharp critique of the modern web: start with Justin Cox.

• If you like structural thinking about the long-term future: Heather Flanagan is your read.

• If you enjoy curious metaphors and a nature nudge: see Michael W Lucas.

• If you want to feel the texture of early online life: Phil Gyford has a box of memories.

• If you want a gentle, practical push toward better habits online: read Michael Bateman.

• If you worry about tech’s psychological reach and want a prescription that’s almost spiritual: the Shannon Rowan review with Hrvoje Morić is where to go.

• If you like small victories and creative metrics: Lee Peterson’s Unsplash note is quick and sweet.

Small invitations and final tangents

These posts don’t agree on everything. But they do have a gentle chorus: the Internet could be better. Sometimes that chorus is political. Sometimes it’s practical. Sometimes it’s just wistful. There’s also a running hint that small things matter — the curation, the archive, the joke. These are the fingerprints of communities.

One last thing before I wander off like someone who leaves their umbrella behind in a cafe: a lot of the conversation assumes people care enough to act. That’s a big assumption. Action looks different depending on the lane you’re in. It can be clicking “subscribe” to a good newsletter. It can be joining standards bodies if you have the skills. It can be teaching younger folks to code, or giving them a seat at the table. It can be putting your phone away at dinner.

So there you have it. Read the posts if you want the flavors and details. They’re small and varied. Each has a pull. Each has a question. They don’t close the book on anything. They open it instead, in different places, with different bookmarks. And sometimes that’s all a person needs — a few bookmarks and a plan to keep reading.