Getting old sneaks up on you. It’s a state of mind that takes hold bit by bit with every contemptuous dismissal of the new, every retreat to the familiar. I saw the middlingest minds of my generation destroyed by Tung Tung Tung Sahur, malding hysterical red-faced, dragging themselves through the timelines at dawn looking for The Office memes.

But nothing is truly new. Our blessed internet fads were no more sophisticated than their barbaric brainrot. Really, the only difference between then and now is shelf life. In the Old Times, one sufficiently amusing website could provide months of fodder for radio hosts, bored students in school libraries, and chain emails. And none of these early sites was bigger than Hampster Dance.

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