To the extent one can believe nature documentaries have spoilers, the following review is spoiler-free.

From flocks of birds to colonies of ants, big group shots are a staple in most nature documentaries. 

Meticulously filmed and explained, these scenes often depict some massive group of animals — occasionally in tandem with another massive group of animals — working to accomplish a monstrous task that’s somehow critical to their survival. Think a pack of wolves cooperatively hunting down prey or a family of beavers collecting materials to build a dam. 

Netflix’s Our Planet, a new series narrated by genre icon David Attenborough, is no exception to this rule. Throughout its eight episodes as it explores eight ecosystems, Our Planet investigates the many ways various species work together to overcome obstacles and survive in our mistreated and increasingly inhospitable world.

SEE ALSO: Discovery Channel and BBC Studios announce the streaming service of your nature doc dreams

Similar to its predecessors, Blue Planet, Planet Earth, and Life, Our Planet‘s most valuable entertainment resource lies within these breathtaking sequences. The series opens with a stunning scene showing a multi-front assault on a group of anchovies along the Peruvian coast, sea birds attacking from the sky as dolphins snap up morsels from below. It’s a gripping, delightful hook for the series’ start.

As the episodes pass, we witness more and more of these large-scale wonders. There’s more impressive hunting as well as a number of mass migrations, flirtatious mating rituals, and narrow escapes — each dramatically narrated sequence more awe-inspiring than the last with seemingly more and more creatures within frame. 

Fans of the genre will once again experience that warm feeling that comes with watching something in amazement, a kind of hug from the inside that makes you feel blissfully and fantastically insignificant in the face of the Earth’s many inhabitants. 

This fuzzy feeling of child-like discovery isn’t particularly new, and Our Planet doesn’t exactly revolutionize its delivery. (Metaphorically speaking, we’ve seen this baby animal footage before.) Instead, what makes Our Planet praise-worthy is the effectiveness of its central message, utilizing that amazement and delight as a transport system for climate change education. 

For each moment of sheer wonder, viewers are faced with at least one hard fact about our dying planet. Consistently, Attenborough informs us of the harsh consequences that come with our species’ progressively out-of-control behavior. 

For example, wildlife populations have declined by 60% in the past 50 years and habitat loss continues at an alarmingly high rate. He states these facts directly, and without preamble. This is happening, and it threatens every being on this planet.

But, Our Planet is not without hope. While the series doesn’t directly inform its audience of how to fix this catastrophic problem, it does reassure us that the planet can recover, if we are willing to work together.

The presentation of this all-important task — our duty to do everything we can to protect our home for both ourselves and the animals with whom we share it — rapidly transforms those striking group shots of pack hunting, migration, and fights for survival from entertaining fascination to inspirational example setting.

This is our planet. It is ours to save or sacrifice. The choice is ours, but we’ll have to make it together. Our Planet: Season 1 is currently streaming on Netflix. 

To learn more about how you can help preserve the Earth and protect its inhabitants, check out Mashable’s science coverage on conservation and climate change.

There’s a deceitful act I’ve been engaging in for years—lol—but it wasn’t until recently, while texting a massive rant to a friend, that I became aware of just how bad it is. 

I’d just sent an exhaustive recap of my nightmarish day when a mysteriously placed “lol” caught my eye. Not a single part of me had felt like laughing when I typed the message, yet I’d ended my massive paragraph with the words, “I’m so stressed lol.”

I had zero recollection of typing the three letters, but there they were, just chilling at the end of my thought in place of a punctuation mark. I hadn’t found anything funny, so why were they there? Unclear! I scrolled through my conversations and noticed “lol” at the end of nearly every message I’d sent — funny or not. That’s when I realized how frequently and insincerely I use the initialism in messages. I was on auto-lol.

SEE ALSO: Crush Twitter proves that sometimes subtweets can be good

The next day, I arrived to work with a heightened sense of lol awareness and took note of my colleagues’ behavior on Slack. They too, overused “lol” in conversation. Chrissy Teigen tweeted about the family hamster again? “Lol.” Someone’s selling a jean diaper? “Lol.” Steve Buscemi’s name autocorrected to Steph Buscemi? “Lol.”

It was ubiquitous. And though some made audible chuckles at their desks throughout the day, the newsroom remained relatively silent. People were not laughing out loud whenever they said they were. It was all a sham!

As I’m sure is true with everyone, there are times when I’ll type “lol” and smile, chuckle, or genuinely laugh out loud. But I’m also notoriously capable of assembling the three letters without moving a facial muscle.

Curious to know why so many of us insist on typing “lol” when we aren’t laughing, I turned to some experts.

Why so serious? Lol.

Lisa Davidson, Chair of NYU’s Department of Linguistics, specializes in phonetics, but she’s also a self-proclaimed “prolific user” of “lol” in texts. When I approached Davidson in hopes of uncovering why the acronym comes out of people like laugh vomit, she helpfully offered to analyze her own messaging patterns.

On its surface, Davidson suspects “the written and sound structure” of “lol” is pleasing, and the symmetry of how it’s typed or said likely adds to that appeal. The ‘l’ and ‘o’ are also right next to each other on a keyboard, she notes, which makes for “a very efficient acronym.” In taking a deeper look, however, she recognized several other reasons one might overdo it with the initialism.

Davidson often sees “lol” used in conjunction with self-deprecating humor, or to poke fun at someone in a bad situation, like “if someone says they’re stuck on the subway, and you text back ‘lol, have fun with that.’” And in certain cases, she notes, “lol” can be included “to play down aggressiveness, especially if used in conjunction with something that might come across as critical or demanding.”

“For example, if you’re working on a project with a co-worker, and they save a file to the wrong place in a shared Drive, you [might] say something like, ‘Hey, you put that file in the Presentations folder, lol. Next time can you save it to Drafts?’” 

Extremely relatable.

Admitting we have a problem

After hearing from Davidson, I set out to analyze a few of my own text messages. I found several of her interpretations applicable and even discovered a few specific to my personal texting habits.

When telling my friend about my stressful day, for instance, I realized I’d included the lol that anchored my message for comfort, like a nervous giggle. In my mind, it meant I was keeping things light, which must mean everything’s OK. In many cases, I also add “lol” to a message to make it sound less abrasive. Without it, I fear a message comes across as cold or incomplete.

On occasion, I’ll send single “lol” texts to acknowledge I’ve received a message, but have nothing else to add to the conversation. And as much as it pains me to admit, the lol is sometimes there as a result of laziness. I experience moments of pure emotional exhaustion in which I’d rather opt for a short and sweet response than fully articulate my thoughts. In those cases, “lol” almost always delivers.

The realization that “lol” has become a sort of a conversational crutch for me is somewhat disturbing, but I can take a shred of solace knowing I’m not alone. As previously noted, many of my colleagues are also on auto-lol. (If you need some proof, 3,662 results popped up when I searched the term in Mashable Slack, and those are just the lols visible to me.)

When I brought up the topic of lol addiction in the office, offenders quickly came forward in an attempt to explain their personal behavior. Some said they use it as a buffer word to fill awkward silences, while others revealed they consider it a kinder alternative to the dreaded “k.”

Without lol, I sometimes feel a message comes across as cold or incomplete.

Several people admitted they call upon “lol” in times when they feel like being sarcastic or passive aggressive, whereas others use it to avoid confrontation, claiming it “lessens the blow of what we say.” 

“I’ve also noticed a lot with my friends that if they say something that creates a sense of vulnerability they’ll use ‘lol’ or ‘haha’ to diminish its importance,” another colleague noted.

While there are a slew of deeper meanings behind “lol,” sometimes the lack of audible laughter simply comes down to self-control. You can use the term to communicate you genuinely think something’s funny, but you might not be in a physical position to laugh about it — kind of how people type “I’M SCREAMING” and do not scream.

Understanding the auto-lol epidemic

Nearly everyone I spoke to believed the auto-lol epidemic is real. But how exactly we as a society arrived at this place of subconscious laughter remains a mystery.

Though “lol” reportedly predates the internet, a man named Wayne Pearson claims to have invented the shorthand in the ’80s as a way to express laughter online. As instant messaging and texting became more popular, so did “lol,” and at some point, its purpose pivoted from solely signifying laughter to acting as a universal text response.

Caroline Tagg, a lecturer in Applied Linguistic and English Language at Open University in the UK, favors emoji over “lol,” but as the author of several books about digital communication — including Discourse of Text Messaging: Analysis of SMS Communication — she’s very familiar with the inclusion of laughter in text.

“People who are in regular contact with each other do usually develop shared norms of communication.”

“Over time, its use has shifted, and it has come to take on other meanings — whether that’s to indicate a general mood of lightheartedness or signal irony,” Tagg confirms. “These different meanings emerge over time and through repeated exposure to the acronym.”

In some cases, the decision to include “lol” in a message might be stylistic — “an attempt to come across in a particular way, to perform a particular persona, or to adopt a particular style.” 

Ultimately, Tagg believes everyone perceives “lol” in text differently, and makes the conscious decision to use the initialism for various reasons, which are usually influenced by “conversational demands.”

As for the increase in frequency over time, she noted that if you engage in conversation with someone who’s a fan of saying “lol,” you could wind up using the term more often. “Generally speaking … people who are in regular contact with each other do usually develop shared norms of communication and converge around shared uses,” she said. 

Think of it like a vicious cycle of contagious text laughter.

Embarking on an lol detox

Now that I’m aware of my deep-seated lol dependency, I’m trying my best to change it. I encourage anyone who thinks they might be stuck in an lol rut to do the same.

The way I see it we have two options: Type lol less, or laugh out loud more. The latter sounds pretty good, but if you’re committed to keeping your Resting Text Face, here are some tips.

Try to gradually wean yourself off your reliance on lol by ending messages with punctuation marks instead, using a more specific emoji in place of your laughter, or making an effort to better articulate yourself. Instead “lol,” maybe, “omg that’s hilarious,” for example. 

At the very least, try changing up your default laugh setting once in a while. Different digital laughs carry different connotations. If you’re ever in doubt about which to use, you can reference this helpful guide:

• LOL/HAHA — I really think this thing is hilarious as shown by my caps!

• Lol — Bitch, please OR I have nothing to say.

• lollllllllll — Yo, that’s pretty funny.

• el oh el — So unfunny I feel the need to type like this.

• haha — Funny but not worth much of my time.

• hahahaha — Funny and worth my time!

• hah/ha — This is not amusing at all and I want to make that known.

• HA — Yes! Finally!

• Lmao/Lmfao — When something evokes more comedic joy than “lol” does.

• LMAO/LMFAO — Genuine, impassioned laughter, so strong you feel as though your rear end could detach from your body.

• Hehehe — You are softly giggling, were just caught doing something semi-suspicious or sexting, or are a small child or a serial killer. This one really varies.

• heh — Sure! Bare minimum funny, I guess! Whatever!

In very special cases, consider clarifying that you are literally laughing out loud. As someone who’s received a few “Actually just laughed out loud” messages in my lifetime, I can confirm that they make me feel much better than regular lol messages.

One of the major reasons we rely so heavily on representations like “lol” in digital interactions is because we’re desperately searching for ways to convey emotions and expressions that can easily be picked up on in face-to-face conversations. It works well when done properly, but we’ve abused lol’s polysemy over the years. After all the term has done for us, it deserves a break.

If we make the conscious effort to scale back, we might be able to prevent “lol” from losing its intended meaning entirely.

It’s always nice to get a few messages from friends on your birthday, isn’t it?

Well, if you happen to be Robert Downey Jr., you get more than just a few.

SEE ALSO: Chris Evans and Robert Downey Jr. just had a Marvel-lous Twitter exchange

Not to mention the fact that some are video messages from the likes of Chris Hemsworth and Tessa Thompson, casually wishing you the best from what looks like the Men in Black: International set.

Here’s the video, in all its glory:

“Happy birthday Robert, happy 50th,” says Downey’s Avengers co-star Hemsworth in the clip above. “We’re also 50 if you add our ages together.”

“And then subtract,” chips in Thompson.

No response yet from the man himself, but in fairness he probably has quite a few birthday messages to get through.

I lost all my friends nine years ago. 

It was my own fault. I hooked up with a friend’s boyfriend and instantly regretted it. I betrayed a friend I really cared about and nothing I could say or do would erase what I’d done. When our entire friendship group eventually found out, one by one, friends began dropping like flies. Some sent messages to tell me they knew what I’d done, and others simply faded away. This moment is, to date, the most shameful of my life. 

Nearly a decade later, I still have an unconquerable urge to know how these former friends of mine are doing. So, I look them up on Google, Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter to try and gain a sense of how their lives are unfolding. The profound sadness I felt back then has dissipated, the tears have stopped, and new friends have come into my life (and stayed, thank goodness), but I can’t shake this desire to just know how their lives are playing out. 

SEE ALSO: Twitter cliques might feel like high school, but their existence is tied to our human nature

I know it’s probably a bit of a weird thing to do — maybe even slightly unhealthy — but this practice doesn’t come from a place of malice — just curiosity. 

I hesitated sharing this particular story from my past as it’s a moment in time that I am not proud of. But I also wanted to answer a question that’s been lurking in my own mind for some time now — why do I keep looking at the profiles of the friends I’ve lost? Am I trying to recreate the physical proximity I once felt with their digital presence? Is it a guilty conscience? Nostalgia? Something I should stop doing immediately? All of the above?

Once I’d got over my am-I-a-freak-for-doing-this qualms, I put it to the people of Twitter to see if other people do this too. Turns out, a lot of people indulge in the occasional spot of internet-searching for former friends — and many have very interesting reasons for doing so. 

“I like knowing just how they’re doing — are they alive? Are they healthy? Are they happy?”

Journalist Eric Francisco says he Googles old friends that he’s lost touch with and people he once thought he’d never fall out of touch with. “One close friend unfriended me mysteriously and to this day I don’t know why,” Francisco tells me. He thinks his occasional internet searches of former friends stems from sentimentality. “I’m a sentimental person,” he says. “I like knowing just how they’re doing — are they alive? Are they healthy? Are they happy?”

Francisco has also used the opportunity of his idle internet searching to get in touch with those friends. “I’ve actually messaged a few people on occasion, and you always make that lofty promise to catch up,” he says. “I try to follow up but life always gets in the way. Still, it’s enough for me to know that the people who mattered to me years ago are still doing okay.”

In this era of chasmic political divides, Francisco says he is trying to “look for the bits of positivity” wherever he can. “Knowing that former friends are also doing okay for themselves, that gives me comfort,” he adds. “Life is short, man. We can’t hold these grudges forever.” 

This behaviour isn’t limited to search engines. Fashion blogger Urszula Makowska uses Instagram to check in on her former best friend who she’s no longer in contact with. “I do this to see how they are doing,” says Makowska. “I have a specific friend I do this to because I miss her, but we went our own separate ways and do not talk at all.” She says she looks at her former friend’s Insta when they randomly pop into her mind, and when she misses them. “I do it because I miss that person in my life and I hope to see they are doing well,” she adds. 

Student engineer Will, who gave his first name only, says he looks up the people he’s fallen out with around one or two times a month. “I do it to see what they are doing and to gauge how their life has changed without me being around,” says Will. “It makes me feel jealous and sad sometimes, to be honest, when I see them being around other people and/or doing interesting things.” 

As for the reasons we do this, we should look not just to human nature, but also the nature of the internet. 

“There is an inherent curiosity in human condition, and the digital economy teases this out” 

Dr Yasmin Ibrahim — reader in international business and communications at Queen Mary University of London — says “there is an inherent curiosity in human condition, and the digital economy teases this out.” 

“The internet and social media constitute a new mode of ‘sociality’ where people offer details of their lives and status,” says Ibrahim, adding that the internet now exists as a new medium of “sociality” which renders humans “trackable entities who can be followed and in some ways surveilled through their visual presence online.” Ibrahim says the logic of social networking sites rests on “sharing our lives and its minutiae” with our circle — our friends, colleagues, and acquaintances. But sharing those details can “invite the gaze of others who are no longer in contact with you.”

Per Ibrahim, this “trackable economy aligned to searching, tagging and following” means we recreate our IRL relationships through “the internet architecture.” The digital economy combines our curiosity about other people — including those we’ve known in the past — with the ability to search for them. “We are increasingly embedded in networks where past contacts and present lists of acquaintances can be consumed through this search economy where people exhibit themselves through social networks offering details and insights into their lives,” she continues. 

So, do our feelings of remorse or nostalgia have anything to do with this kind of internet activity? Well, kind of.

“The internet environment immerses us in different affective states where validation, endorsement, guilt, social shaming, humiliation, vitriol, and rituals of bullying can provide a motivation to gaze at others and follow them through their everyday life journeys,” says Ibrahim. “When we remediate relationships through a screen culture and digital platforms, human beings can create new rituals online without relinquishing existing social norms or behaviours offline.”

Our propensity to compare ourselves to others also plays into this activity. According to Ibrahim, the internet enables “a comparison economy,” which allows people to see “how their peers are journeying through life” and the choices they’ve made “even when they fall out with people.” So, even once you’ve cut ties with friends in real life, they may still be comparing themselves and their lives to yours based on what you’re posting online. 

Sometimes, for whatever reason, people who mean a lot to us leave our lives. And sometimes that curiosity about how they’re doing in life doesn’t go away. 

Friendships have been fizzling out or ending abruptly for millennia. But in the internet era, there’s the added complication of having digital ways to see what people are up to. The internet can create a false sense of proximity to people, and in my case, I’ve been using it to artificially feel close to the people I’ve lost in life.

Maybe I’ll never stop wondering how those lost friends of mine are doing. But I’m certainly going to keep my internet searches to a minimum.