The Liberation of Letting Go: Why I'm Fine With Fake News

I've been waiting for someone to say it, so I might as well be the first: I'm perfectly fine with fake news. In fact, I've been wondering when everyone else would figure out what I've known for years – that we've been living in a post-truth world, and it's not nearly as bad as the pundits would have you believe.

Remember when we used to panic about "alternative facts"? Those were simpler times. Today, I scroll through my social media feeds with a sense of peace that my fact-checking friends seem to have lost. While they're frantically verifying every headline, I'm enjoying the show.

Last week, I read three completely different versions of the same city council meeting. One claimed our mayor proposed a revolutionary green initiative, another said they were cutting essential services, and a third insisted the entire meeting was canceled due to a mysterious gas leak. The truth? I have no idea, and frankly, it doesn't matter.

What matters is that all three stories served their purpose. They entertained, they outraged, they gave people something to talk about at dinner. They created community – even if it was a community built on shared confusion rather than shared facts.

The local news landscape has become a fascinating performance art piece. Our newspaper runs earnest corrections of stories that were never meant to be accurate in the first place. Community Facebook groups debate the existence of proposed developments that exist only in someone's imagination. It's all rather beautiful when you step back and appreciate the creativity.

I've noticed something interesting about my neighbors who still cling to the notion of "real news." They're exhausted. They're angry. They're constantly disappointed when their trusted sources get things wrong. Meanwhile, those of us who have embraced the uncertainty are having a much better time.

When the local school board announced those dramatic budget cuts last month – which later turned out to be a misinterpretation of a routine accounting adjustment – my friends were outraged. I was impressed by the narrative creativity. When that viral story about the new downtown development turned out to be completely fabricated, I wasn't angry. I was inspired by the community's ability to imagine a better future.

The media literacy advocates will tell me I'm part of the problem. They'll warn about the erosion of democracy, the dangers of misinformation, the importance of an informed citizenry. But I've been watching this erosion happen in slow motion for years, and you know what? Life goes on.

City council still meets. Property taxes still get paid. The potholes on Elm Street remain unfilled, regardless of what the news says about them. The practical realities of our community continue unaffected by the quality of our information.

Perhaps it's time we admitted something uncomfortable: the precise details matter less than we think. What matters is that we're engaged, that we care enough to share and discuss and argue. The passion is real, even if the facts aren't.

So I'll keep reading, sharing, and occasionally contributing to the grand theater of local information. I'll nod along with the latest outrageous claim about the mayor's secret plans or the school district's imaginary scandals. I'll appreciate the creativity, the entertainment value, the way these stories bring us together in shared confusion.

And I'll keep wondering when the rest of you will join me in this liberation. The truth is overrated anyway – especially when the alternatives are so much more interesting.