Dwain Northey (Gen X)

There was a time, not that long ago, when people heard something outrageous and their first instinct was, “That can’t possibly be true.” Now the response is apparently, “Forward that immediately to everyone I know and then scream at anyone holding a calculator.”

I was standing at the gas pump the other day making a joke about inflation. Nothing dramatic. Just a sarcastic little comment about how I missed the glorious ancient era of six weeks ago when twenty-five dollars could buy something more than a gasoline-scented emotional support drizzle into my fuel tank.

And the guy next to me, with complete sincerity, looked at me and said, “Well, it’s better than getting nuked by Iran. We were minutes away from nuclear annihilation and Trump saved us all.”

Minutes away.

Minutes.

Apparently while I was deciding between regular and premium unleaded, humanity itself was hanging by a thread like the finale of an action movie written by a Facebook comment section.

That’s the level of fantasy people are living in now. Not disagreement. Not political spin. Full cinematic universe nonsense.

We have crossed the line from “I interpret the facts differently” into “I believe Tom Cruise personally disarmed an Iranian warhead with his teeth while Lee Greenwood played in the background.”

And the wildest part is how casual people are about it. They say these things the same way somebody tells you there’s a chance of rain later. No evidence. No hesitation. Just complete confidence in information that sounds like it was translated from Russian into English and then back into caveman.

“We were minutes from nuclear destruction.”

Really? Minutes? That’s fascinating because somehow not a single person was panic-buying canned beans or digging fallout shelters. The biggest crisis most Americans were facing was whether Taco Bell still had Baja Blast Zero.

But this is what happens when people marinate themselves in outrage media twenty-four hours a day. Reality becomes optional. Every event has to be the end of civilization. Every election is the “most important in history.” Every opponent is either Hitler, Stalin, Satan, or all three fused together like some kind of authoritarian Megazord.

At some point people stopped consuming news and started consuming political fan fiction.

That’s why normal conversations are impossible now. You can’t even joke about gas prices without somebody acting like they personally intercepted a nuclear launch code with a MAGA hat and a dream.

And the misinformation itself is almost secondary now. What’s really amazing is the emotional commitment people have to it. They NEED the world to be on fire because otherwise they’d have to admit maybe politics isn’t an Avengers movie and maybe their preferred politician isn’t the lone warrior standing between America and instant annihilation.

Because if the stakes aren’t apocalyptic, then suddenly you have to evaluate politicians like normal human beings instead of mythological heroes. And nobody wants that. It’s much easier to believe your guy saved humanity from nuclear doom while the other side was apparently one evil monologue away from detonating the planet.

Meanwhile, actual reality keeps limping along awkwardly in the background.

Gas is still expensive.
Groceries still cost too much.
People are still arguing online with the reading comprehension of raccoons fighting over a toaster pastry.

But sure. Thank God civilization was saved during my trip to Circle K.

The truly depressing part is that this level of nonsense isn’t even shocking anymore. We’ve become so numb to absurdity that someone can say, “We were moments from nuclear war,” and nobody asks follow-up questions like:
“How do you know that?”
“Who told you that?”
“Were they perhaps selling survival buckets and colloidal silver supplements?”

Nope. We just nod along while society slowly transforms into a live-action YouTube comment thread.

And honestly, maybe that’s the real danger. Not Iran. Not nukes. Not whatever imaginary doomsday scenario cable news cooked up this week.

The real threat is a population so addicted to fear and fantasy that basic reality can no longer compete with the dopamine hit of believing they’re survivors of an apocalypse that never actually happened.