Do I really have to do Twitter? There may be a point where I don’t want to get published that badly and Twitter may be my writing Waterloo. I mean, come on! I do Facebook, I started a blog and sometimes even update it. What more do I have to give? Can’t I just offer a leg, or something? I might even be persuaded to give an arm…Well, probably not. I might need those more than a leg. Besides, I’ve secretly always wanted one of those Rascal scooters, maybe one with a cattle guard option for shoving fellow shoppers out of the way this Holiday season. So, a leg makes much more sense.
What’s twitter you ask? It basically works like a blog, but it’s limited in length. So, the posts have to be short. Here’s an example of what it may look like:
About 1 minute ago: Screams of torturous pain! Oh my gosh, I’m going to die!! Someone pleeeaasee kill me and end this personal hell!!!
About 15 minutes ago: The pain is unbearable. It’s sliding through my insides like a ball of razorblades through jello.
About 30 minutes ago: There is something strange going on inside me, accompanied by some serious discomfort.
About 45 minutes ago: I don’t feel so good. I think I need an MRI. I might have the swine flu or something.
About 1 hour ago: Well, off to Costco for a slice of pizza. It’s no Pie Pizzeria, but it’ll do in a pinch.
Twitter is about people vomiting their life out on the digital world. Most of Twitter is chalk full of stuff you couldn’t care a whit about. At least they named it right. The word twitter, in my mind, conjures up the image of birds on a wire turning to each other and tweeting a way. An accurate image I think, unlike that “super soft” toilet paper B’lue buys. I think it’s really that John Wayne toilet paper, where its slogan is, “It’s tough, it’s gritty, and it doesn’t take crap from anyone!”
