Dear Doolino,
My friend is addicted to Fizz. All they do is talk about their ranking. How do I cure them?
Sincerely,
Chronically Offline
Dear Chronically Offline,
First of all, I would like to congratulate you on your pseudonym. In a world where everyone seems to be glued to a screen of some sort (besides me, of course — I am currently writing this by quill and scroll and will rely on The Emory Wheel’s hapless laborers to digitize it), the fact that you have been able to avoid this online insanity is admirable. I am sorry to hear that, unlike you, your friend has fallen victim to the hellish mob mentality borne from anonymous online forums.
To those of you who are blissfully unaware, Fizz is an online social platform where students post anonymously in pursuit of being ranked first on a scoreboard and receiving “fizzups” — each providing a dopamine hit similar to the rush some Emory University students chase at Tongue & Groove on Thursdays. It is easy for students to become obsessed with Fizz, devolving into creatures that sometimes post upwards of fifty times a day using low-effort tactics in order to accrue Fizzups and karma. The thing about karma, however, is that while it can be a means of signifying your internet prowess, it often also comes back to bite you. If your friend is resorting to spreading cruel rumors on Fizz — something that, unfortunately, often garners upvotes — then they should watch out for this karma. But thankfully, it isn’t too late for the Fizz-obsessed. I personally carry a deep distaste for all things Fizz, so I will try my very best to save your friend from this dark corruption.
You could attempt to trick your friend into carrying out a Fizz addict’s worst nightmare: touching grass. Sometimes, all it takes to rescue one’s mind from the swirling cesspit of social media is a grounded interaction with nature. You can lure them out of their stinking cave of unwashed laundry with the promise of staging a dramatic situation sure to earn them more than their daily Fizzup quota. Once they have exited their bedroom, they will likely hiss and shrink away from the sun like a vampire as their eyes adjust to the light for the first time in months. While they are caught off guard, you should strike. Swoop into action, gently grasp their hand and drag their palm to the earth in an artistic, circular arc. If all goes as planned, they will recognize the beauty of the earth around them and disavow the most abominable things manufactured by man, including anonymous online platforms designed to bring others down. Take this moment of vulnerability and run with it. Delete every unnecessary app on your friend’s phone. Go to a Sunrise Emory meeting. Do something impossible for most privileged Emory students and take a vow of silence, decentering yourself from the narrative. By the end, you and your friend will be enlightened beyond belief and fully ready to lead a pure, Fizz-free life.
Now, obviously, the situation that I have just described is only an ideal. Unfortunately, Chronically Offline, we do not live in a utopia. There is a chance that your Fizz-addicted friend will not fall for your grass-touching plan. That is perfectly alright. Like every student organization this week when Emory closed campus, you must simply improvise, adapt and overcome (and curse at the sky a little while you are doing so). Maybe Fizz has fully corrupted your friend and no amount of love and care can save them. In that case, abandon love and care and pick up a much sharper weapon. We sometimes have to give part of ourselves to the darkness for the greater good. In this dire instance, there is only one thing to do, Chronically Online: Make a Fizz account and outrank your friend. You will have to become the very thing you despise, posting every 30 milliseconds to accrue karma as fast as you possibly can.
You have to grab people’s attention, so you will need to spread misinformation. Take inspiration from past posters and spread the news about Emory University’s supposed new policy requiring students to register for extra exams to avoid failing their classes. Take advantage of the dwindling but still present wide-eyed innocence of the freshmen and use your platform to traumatize them for life. If you fully commit to corrupting yourself as much as you are committed to helping your friend, you are sure to shoot to No. 1 on the Fizz leaderboard in record speed. Once you beat your friend, you can shatter their illusion that everyone’s problems are solved by gathering Fizz karma and gaining validation from strangers online. The second you reach first on the leaderboard, delete your Fizz account in front of your friend. This shows that you have achieved ultimate enlightenment — you have the power but do not need it for true happiness.
There is only one caveat I must give you, Chronically Offline: There is a chance that you could lose yourself along the way. No matter what happens, you must not let yourself get sucked into the shiny purple world of gossip and upvotes. It will be tempting, but you are strong. Resist, young Emorian, resist. Rage against the dying of the blue light. If you are able to enter the Fizz-verse and retain your humanity, your friend is sure to see the truth and do the same.
You certainly have an arduous task ahead of you, Chronically Offline. Fizz can lead to addicting spirals and cycles, and for overworked, exhausted college students, it can certainly be a tempting outlet. However, the beauty of being a college student is that you have time to learn and grow. It is good that you are recognizing the toxicity of your friend’s addiction now and not in your thirties, when your life is much more set in stone than in your college years. Take advantage of your brain’s neuroplasticity (ah, I remember when I had a brain) and seize the moment for personal growth. Stay strong, smash your cell phone with a hammer and always remember: Doolino knows best.
