Monday, December 1, 2008

Lover, there will be another one

Monday, December 1, 2008
Twitter is for cunts, right? I know it, you know it, Lance Armstrong knows it. How do we know it? We know it because the concept is cunt based. Who but a cunt labours under the illusion that anyone from friends to family to faint acquaintances gives a fuck that they're on a train to Kilkenny, that anyone wants to know what they had for breakfast, that the internet is even vaguely not disinterested in what time today's defecation will take place? No one, that's who. No one but a cunt.

You know where I'm going with this, right? Correctimundo. I got me a Twitter account.

Is it fucking deadly? It is not. Another ass and time sucking energy pit is what it is, lacking even the all too rare wit and insight of the occasional bleugh post. Upsides? Not a one. Slightly less down sides? I'm stalking both Lance and the great Stephen Fry. The word the twits use is 'follow' but bollox to that. It may be permitted and even encouraged to monitor the every move of minor celebrities in this manner but it feels just as dirty and exciting as all the real life stalking that I do. That is very, very dirty and almost totally lacking in excitement. I have also started following random strangers off of the public stream in the hope that they might feel a little more stalked than Messers Armstrong and Fry. I'm just trying to spread the twisted love.

Also provided by this most pointless of services is the confirmation that my life is, as I have long suspected, both banal and meaningless. The Twittosphere now knows that in the last twelve hours or so I have watched Return of The Jedi, taught a Yoga class and done the shopping. It must now be ready to top itself with the tedium of it all.

I guess I'll stick with it for a day or two. It can only help with the seasonal present procrastination.

In the unlikely event of your being both a reader of mine and a Twitter type, and if this is the case then you are indeed large, you sure do contain multitudes, then you can find and follow me here. And even if the concept sickens you to your sickly core then you will still want to use the same link to read up on the minutiae of the Minute mindset.

Fucking tweet tweet.

10 Johns and Janes for the comment whore:

Gav said...

I didn't realise I had a twitter account until they told me you were following me. Feel free to give me a call anytime you think I might be on a train.

Conan Drumm said...

I'd be a qwitter, so I'm not joing up.

red leeroy said...

I have avoided said 'twitter' for a long time. But now the idea of getting sickeningly more deperate gimmeaminute by minute updates is too brilliant to ignore.

gimme a minute said...

Gav:
Will do. I think you're on a train now. But it's probably to late to call.

Conan:
Very good.

And good move, come to that.

red leeroy:
Aaaawww! You're too sweet.

'Tis the season when my despair peaks out, so it ought to be fun for all.

Medbh said...

Twitter seems a bit OCD-ish to me.

Manuel said...

"fucking tweet tweet" bwahahaha sounds like the catchphrase of a psycho killer.....before he blows your brain off and stuffs a sparrow up your bum....

gimme a minute said...

Medbh:
For sure. You'd love it.

gimme a minute said...

Manuel:
That's the plan.

I mean...

V said...

As I pointed out in my paper to the National society of Etymologists last year, the feeling of being socially dirty when using twitter is indirectly related the etymology of the word 'twitter'. An Australian slang word meaning the part of the body located between the 'twat' and the 'shitter'.

gimme a minute said...

V:
Thank you for that.

Can you shorten it down to 140 characters? I want to put it on my Gooch stream.

 
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