Two thousand sixteen.

We have arrived in this, the future, and it by all accounts resembles the recent past. In some cases, it might even resemble a distant past, too.

As a society, we seem to be tempered in our expectations of what we can accomplish because we see firsthand what we have been unable to accomplish to this point, all the while unaware of the fact we very much hand a part to play in what was unaccomplished all along.

So much displeasure going on all around us. So much lamenting. So much longing for the future, too busy to enjoy the present. A present which will become the past that we will begin to long for.

Ironic.

After all, what kind of malcontents would be if we didn’t endlessly hype how excited we were to be taken back to a galaxy far, far away in film, doll out a collective $1.7 billion in three weeks to see Star Wars: The Force Awakens, only to turn right around and bash it as “unimaginative” and whine about the former film prodigy J.J. Abrams’ lack of originality?

We beg – no, demand – updated classics, then complain when it’s too retro? We want retro Jordan’s and then complain that they are either too identical or not similar enough. Didn’t we skewer Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull for being not enough like the other Indy movies?

I can’t keep up. No one, pardon the pun, forced you to see that movie.

The same as no one forced George Lucas to sell the Lucasfilm and Star Wars galaxy for $4 billion to Disney. Those “white slavers” as he calls them.

Didn’t Lucas create Jar-Jar Binks?

Uh, I’ll just leave that out there, Mr. Lucas.

But Lucas is simply much the same as the rest of us in the modern age: immediately regretful of what we no longer have, though we didn’t treat it all that well when we had it and unable to move on to something else until we’ve sufficiently trashed it.

Sadly, the rest of us don’t have the $4 billion to ease the burden of negativity. Careful, George; remember what that path of anger and resentment can lead to?

But there’s another, deeper, more sinister than Sith reason we turned so quickly on Star Wars: The Force Awakens: snark.

The snark is all around us. Our snide remarks are becoming our only remarks as we remove ourselves more and more from the actual world to engaging with the vast majority of people electronically.

Would you really type half of what you do if you were to see the person in a hallway?

And how often has pressure from others led you to comment or fire off at the fingertips that which you wouldn’t have said previously?

Philadelphia Eagles owner Jeffrey Lurie called Chip Kelly a culture-builder, an excellent coach, someone he liked and respected and someone who didn’t need to prove anything to anyone just four months ago, in September 2015.

Last week, Lurie couldn’t fire Kelly fast enough, leaked false info to the press about it, and generally smeared him for 48 straight hours.

Why?

The nameless, faceless social media mobs in full snark attack mode, pushed Lurie – who gave Andy Reid 14 years on the job until hiring Kelly – to do the exact opposite of what he said.

We’re all engaged in social media in some way, yet we’re terrified of it at the same time.

We hate to scroll through the feeds and see nearly 75 percent of what we are subjected to see, but addicted to the habit or the “information” we think we’re getting.

We don’t want to put it down, but we can’t put it up.

For every viral post about a child who had their wish fulfilled or someone doing a good deed for someone, there are 4,553 posts of selfies, quizzes and generally everyone complaining about something.

Better still: a good deed has to go “viral” to get the proper attention for it. Remember, if it is not on social media, it didn’t happen right?

Then again, there’s plenty of jibberish that passes through social media that does not pass the sniff test. Take the endless election cycle, for instance.

I’m not sure what I think about any of the 2016 presidential candidates because of the sensory overload I’ve experienced during the start of the campaign season.

And because I have no idea what they actually want to do through some combination of overexposure and underexposure, I feel completely unprepared to vote in six months, even though my state will vote too late for the primary to actually matter.

There’s both sincerity and sarcasm in that last paragraph. Sadly.

The truth is, I somewhat pity these folks. True, they make these boneheaded mistakes themselves, only to nosedive in polls that I thought everyone agreed three years ago didn’t really matter, but still.

If we thought the era of social media and treading and mea culpas had reached it’s pinnacle, think again. We’re roasting these candidates on the open fire of social media.

You step into the world of snark, you best come ready. Not many survive. And unfortunately, these candidates can’t play it cool like the rest of us: chilling on the sidelines, sharing only what we want to share, what we assume the online world wants to see from us: perceived perfection.

It is what we strive for now, perception. It can be any different types. We can become anything we want online, through our Insta-feeds, Twitter bios and Facebook posts.

We can be funny, we can be mysterious. We can be brooding, we can be political. We can be fit, we can be alcoholics. We can be vain, caring, jet-setters and turbulent.

I am sure it is not that cut and dry. I am certainly guilty of it, too. You can click through status updates and pictures of my five children, my wife and myself and you’d get a bunch of pearly whites and smiles at the intersection of Constant Fun and Perfect Family.

We are only perfect for us, folks. And some days, my neurosis leads me to wonder if I’m even perfect for them that day. We get angry. We cry. We lose our temper when the milk is spilled for the thirtieth time in 12 days.

You might like us for an afternoon or weekend, but we would get on your nerves, I swear. And likewise, I bet you would get on ours, too.

We’re all looking around at each other like we have got it together, but in reality, we are running our day-to-day lives more like the Cleveland Browns than the New England Patriots.

But apparently, life just looks better with a filter.

Of course it does. Any sunset with palm trees and beaches looks enviable.

If it is your daily life that could use some contrast, sharpness, color and filter adjusted, consider being more social and less media.

Personally, my goal  in 2016 is to be a bit more transparent, to be more positive in my day-to-day life, less anxious and neurotic, and do my best to enjoy the present moment, unfiltered.

Plus, I have got to pay more attention to this presidential election thing.

I still don’t know what they stand for.

The polls say that’s not good, considering my gender, party affiliation, race, breakfast intake, height, income and inclination to watch Friends re-runs with my wife on Netflix.