Everything you need to know, get angry about, and share is right there in the title. Sure, if you read all the way to the third paragraph like some kind of nerd you'll learn that the incident was only alleged, but who has time for that when you could be raking in sweet, sweet likes? Cracked's David Bell pointed out that "alleged" meant "fake," but it took more than a month for the truth to come out. By that point, angry Internet users had already gone to their local Red Lobster and shit in the tanks. Or so I'm told.
The way we share content discourages long articles that provide crucial context. For example, let's say some unscrupulous fellow who's jealous of my countless Internet comedy groupies starts a rumor that I like to make out with ducks. Maybe he photoshops a picture of me macking on a bufflehead, or maybe he digs up an old joke I made about banging pigeons and presents it out of context. Whatever his strategy, it leads to catchy headlines like "Cracked? More Like Quacked!"
I would naturally want to defend myself from these heinous accusations, but it's hard to explain away insinuations of duck sex in 140 characters. So I write up a post on my website where I explain that, because I'm an amateur ornithologist, there are naturally going to be a lot of pictures of me around birds that could be manipulated, and that any jokes I've made about bird boning were directed at a small group of friends who knew about my hobby and would understand that I was joking around, and that it just flat-out isn't true that scrambled eggs give me a boner and I'm not sure where that idea even came from.