Pulling the Plug
After my solo-motorcycle trip to Montana, I came home realizing I wanted less noise and more presence.
For years I juggled five Instagram accounts—theMangoTimes (personal), DentistFletch (professional), ModPlayersImprov (My Local Improv Team), PipesAndDogs (Totally Fun), and 209PipeAndCigarClub (Local Club). As you can see, some were fun, some were necessary and useful, but together they left me scrolling way more than I wanted. I felt like I was running a one-man media empire with an unpaid intern (me).
The real issue was the feed. I tried to train the algorithm—humor, optimism, philosophy, science, nature, pipes, Boston Terriers, Jimmy Buffett, the Grateful Dead. I really did. I’d get a dusting of those topics, but most of the time the thing veered hard. Daylight hours? Extreme right-wing rage bait and self-pitying religion—angry politics paired with Christians convinced they’re oppressed because someone else finally gets a voice. Nighttime? Like clockwork, the algorithm switched at 9am to a steady stream of “hey middle-aged man, here’s what you really want.” Spoiler: semi-clad women beckoning me to well-curated camera angles is not where I wanted my headspace to live.
I mean, sure—I got a kick out of the performative Christian nonsense and rolled my eyes at the political parrots repeating whatever their feeds told them that day. And, yes, I’m not too old or dead to even notice the cleavage pushed into my feed. But when that becomes the main course every day, it’s not entertainment.
It’s active manipulation.
So I stepped away. I deactivated my personal and professional accounts. I’ve kept the improv page until I can hand it over, and the pipe accounts because they’re really just for sharing information with members. Otherwise, I’m out.
This isn’t about anyone else. It’s not a “statement.” It wasn’t a reaction to angry politics in the world. This was simply a necessary move. It is about me choosing to handpick my inputs again - books, podcasts, music, and the kind of face-to-face conversations that stretch me, with friends I agree with and ones I don’t - instead of letting an algorithm decide what should occupy my brain.
It already feels lighter.
Quietly making noise,
Fletch
