Internet Cotton Candy: How Big Corporate Publishers Flood the Web with Fluffy, Empty Content

In the vast digital landscape, where information should be as abundant and accessible as oxygen, there’s a peculiar phenomenon: the more you search, the less you seem to find. It’s as if you’re sifting through mountains of cotton candy, hoping for a nutritious meal, but instead, you’re left with sticky fingers and a growing sense of dissatisfaction. And who’s behind this sugar-coated charade? Enter the big corporate publishers, like Future Plc, the digital media powerhouses that have turned the art of content creation into a factory assembly line, churning out articles that are as satisfying as a room-temperature soda.

The Rise of Internet Cotton Candy

Let’s start with the basics. Imagine you’re on the hunt for genuine insights about a complex topic—say, neurodiversity. You fire up your browser, type in your query, and brace yourself for enlightenment. Instead, what you get is a barrage of articles that, whilst dressed in the finery of keywords and SEO optimisation, leave you none the wiser. It’s like biting into what you thought was a decadent cake, only to find it’s made entirely of air.

Future plc, the parent company of digital brands like TechRadar, Tom’s Guide, and GamesRadar+, has perfected this formula. They’ve mastered the art of creating content that looks informative, sounds authoritative, but is ultimately devoid of any substance. These articles are the digital equivalent of junk food—plenty of calories but zero nutritional value. They’re designed to attract clicks, rank high on Google, and fill the endless void of the internet, but they do little to nourish the mind.

Marketing Slicks in Disguise

One of the most infuriating aspects of this content deluge is how many of these articles are little more than marketing pieces dressed up as helpful information. You might be reading about the “How schools can better support neurodiverse students,” and it all sounds well and good—until you realise that the piece is as generic as a mass-produced greeting card. It’s full of buzzwords like “inclusivity” and “personalized learning” but offers no real depth or actionable advice. Instead, it’s a slick piece of marketing designed to promote a product, a brand, or simply to keep you on the site long enough to serve you more ads.

These articles are often so polished, so carefully crafted to hit all the right SEO notes, that they slip by unnoticed as the filler they truly are. It’s a bit like watching a commercial that’s so well-made, you don’t even realize it’s selling you something until it’s too late. But instead of selling you a product, these articles are selling you on the illusion that you’ve learned something, that you’ve gained knowledge, when in reality, you’re no better off than when you started.

The Uselessness of It All

The true tragedy here is that these articles, whilst abundant, are ultimately useless. They reduce complex issues—like neurodiversity, sustainability, or mental health—to bite-sized, easily digestible chunks that are stripped of any real meaning. It’s content that’s been processed, refined, and packaged to be as inoffensive and broadly appealing as possible, which means it’s also completely devoid of any real insight.

Think of it this way: if you’re trying to learn about neurodiversity, you don’t want to read an article that’s been written to appeal to everyone. You want something that digs into the specifics, that challenges your assumptions, that leaves you with more questions than answers because that’s how real learning happens. But that’s not what you get with Future plc’s content. What you get is something that’s been watered down to the point of being unrecognisable. It’s the digital equivalent of a school cafeteria lunch—technically food, but barely.

Why It Matters

You might be thinking, “So what? It’s just the internet. Who cares if the content is a little shallow?” But here’s the thing: content like this contributes to a broader culture of misinformation and intellectual laziness. When we accept this kind of fluff as sufficient, we lower the bar for what counts as knowledge. We make it easier for real issues to be glossed over, for important discussions to be diluted, and for the internet to become a place where quantity trumps quality every time.

And let’s not forget the ethical implications. Companies like Future plc are profiting from this endless stream of content, all whilst contributing to a digital environment that prioritises clicks and ad revenue over genuine understanding. It’s a business model built on the back of superficiality, and as long as it’s profitable, there’s little incentive to change.

A Call for Something Better

The real issue here goes beyond just lazy content—it’s a symptom of a much larger problem rooted in the very structure of our economic system. Capitalism, in its relentless pursuit of profit, has turned knowledge into just another commodity, something to be bought, sold, and repackaged until all that remains is a hollow shell of its former self. Companies like Future plc thrive in this environment by gobbling up publications, stripping them of any authentic value, and using them as mere platforms to pump out generic, uninspired content designed to maximise ad revenue.

This monopolistic behaviour is not just a business strategy; it’s a systemic problem. When a handful of corporations control the flow of information, they reduce it to the lowest common denominator—content that is easily digestible, unchallenging, and ultimately meaningless. It’s content that doesn’t inform or inspire but merely exists to keep the gears of capitalism turning.

But here’s the thing: we don’t have to accept this. We can reject this model, refuse to be passive consumers of the intellectual equivalent of fast food, and seek out authentic voices that offer something real. Voices that haven’t been diluted by corporate interests, that aren’t concerned with click-through rates but with genuine engagement and understanding. Voices like mine, and countless others who are out there, providing substance in a sea of fluff.

So let’s stop feeding the beast. Let’s stop rewarding the companies that value profit over people, that see content not as a means of enlightenment but as a vehicle for more ads. Instead, let’s champion the creators who put thought, care, and authenticity into their work. Let’s seek out the full-course meals of the internet, the pieces that challenge us, that make us think, that remind us what true knowledge is supposed to be.

Because at the end of the day, it’s not just about what we consume—it’s about what we support. And in this digital age, our clicks are our currency. Let’s spend them wisely.