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Our never-ending game of 'Made You Look'

I have never had a body part pierced.

I have never ridden in a limousine.

I have never sung karaoke.

No, I am not filling out a questionnaire for the recently announced spinoff of “The Bachelor,” which will feature would-be lovebirds age 65 or older.

How old do you think I am? (That was rhetorical ... no need to answer.)

What those three life experiences that, somehow, have eluded me to this point have in common is their presence on a social media version of the game “Never Have I Ever” which is making its way across Twitter faster than the Democratic candidates for president have crisscrossed the country. (Talk about old, white people wanting to win a reality show.)

You know the rules — come to think of it, “Played Never Have I Ever” would have been a great activity to add since, of course, by taking part, you would have admitted never having done so while you were doing so. Talk about moral ambiguity ... how do you answer that, truthfully?

There’s a list of 20 items, from the innocent to deep-dark secrets; for each that you have never done ... ever ... you get a point.

I got 12 points. I originally gave myself 14 points, but then I remembered that I actually had been on television and skinny-dipped ... although not at the same time.

I’m uncertain whether being above the 50-50 mark on this quiz (presuming I didn’t lie when I took it) says about my moral fiber; but I do know what this trivial time-waster says about our ability to devour anything from the internet’s veritable buffet.

In short, we are what we eat.

If it is on Twitter, or YouTube, or Instagram, or — for those of you old enough to qualify for the seniors-only version of “The Bachelor” — Facebook, we will gorge it down our gullets and cram it into our craniums without stopping to ask moral, or even practical, questions.

Should I bother looking at this? Do I need to see this? What harm could it do to look?

Oops ... too late.

Consider the case of would-be daredevil “Mad Mike” Hughes — who on Sunday sought to launch himself 5,000 feet into the air riding a makeshift, steam-powered rocket.

His intent (filmed, of course, for a cable channel show called “Homemade Astronauts”) was to test out his technology so that, someday, he could go high enough to prove that the Earth is flat.

He will never get the chance. His attempt to disprove Galileo ended with a thud that not only re-enforced Newton, but also made the late “Mad Mike” the leader in the clubhouse for 2020’s Darwin Award.

If “Ridden a makeshift, steam-powered rocket 5,000 feet into the air” had been on the “Never Have I Ever” list, I would have had 14 points.

Time for a pop quiz:

Raise your hand if you already have seen the video of this fatal crash.

Raise your other hand if you’ve reached for your phone or laptop (or opened another tab on your computer) in order to find said video.

And raise your other hand if you’re asking yourself whether you need to see it ... for what harm could it do?

You’re not alone ... well, you are if you actually have three hands; then again, if you do, imagine the subscribers you could get on your own YouTube channel!

We don’t like to think about, or admit, such ghoulish interest, but the evidence is out there and forests of bandwidth trees have been razed to build homes on the internet where the darker side of our souls can live. A story last week in The Atlantic magazine delved into the flourishing realm of “deathfic” — stories written by fans wherein heroes or villains — say, Hermione Granger or Justin Beiber — meet their demise.

Heck, even as I am typing this sentence, there are approximately 6,730,000 links to the death of Mike Hughes available to your (apparently abundant) fingertips.

For the sake of comparison, there are only 248,000 or so links showing a man employing a fork and a pair of scissors to eat a plate of spaghetti.

I don’t know about you; but being a devout Pastafarian, I am far more intrigued by this radical eating technique — for I am far more likely to attempt it than I am to have a body part pierced.

Do you use the fork or the scissors in your dominant hand? (This is where having three hands could come in ...) How tempted would you be to lick stray marinara off the blades? Why is it a “pair” of scissors in the first place ... does it depend on what the definition of sciss is?

Remember when the biggest debate in the country was over the proper etiquette involved when reclining your airplane seat into the lap of the person behind you? Remember that? The man in the back seat hitting the seatback of the reclining woman in front of him? The woman, of course, threatening to sue?

Times were simpler then ... two weeks ago.

Such ephemera exist because they can and spread due to our collective wish to be doing something else — anything else — than what we probably should be doing at that moment. They feed on our addictive curiosities and exploit our eroded ability to pause long enough to think.

Two airline passengers squabble. A diner finds an unorthodox method to eat. A would-be daredevil dies. A president tweets.

Should I bother looking at this? Do I need to see this? What harm could it do to look?

Just one more question: What was your “Never Have I Ever” score?

Mail Tribune news editor Robert Galvin wastes time the old-fashioned way at rgalvin@rosebudmedia.com

Robert Galvin