Michael Crichton, (as above quoted) didn't get to feel the pain of having the opportunity to correct the newspaper article, as we "do".

That's the pain I feel when facing this new instance of the affect, in a more palatable form:

I could comment on the internet - but knowing my comments will, despite immense reverence, or correctness, be ignored by the silent masses, turns the effect into an affliction.

The man reading the newspaper can mutter the facts under his breath. Had he yell louder, still, nothing will change - his breakfast partner bemoaned.

The miniscule chance of my comment correcting the record pains me. Had I yell louder, maybe someone will take note. But I can't - because they won't, and the possibility of my pertinent, small chance of making a difference gets irrevocably distant, as an algorithm pushes the topic of collective interest to someone else's disdain.

So I reload the page, and forget what I knew.