September 18th, 2009

Kero Bluestreak

Observations of a Twit

Well, having been a twit for a week or so now, I can understand the appeal ... but it also has its problems.

The good part is that it's sort of like being in a giant chat room with your friends and a handful of 'net-savvy celebrities, all just chit-chatting about whatever comes to mind. It's a nice way to "keep up" without having to jump through the logistical hoops usually required for direct person-to-person contact.

The bad part is all the stuff that you might expect to come with that, not the least of which is 50 people all going "OMG SCANDAL!" about every stupid thing that bubbles up in the media or on websites that cater to any given person's hotbuttons. You know those annoying e-mails that people forward without thinking, the ones asking for prayers/donations for a sick little girl in Utah or that spew political yakkety-yak? The ones your mother keeps sending you even though you tried to train her by sending her the Snopes article debunking every one over and over again? Yeah, Twitter can be like those, but in real-time.

So, it's a mixed bag. I'll keep hanging out there for a while, but I'd say there are even chances that at some point I'll just get sick of the whole thing and drop it.

-The Gneech
Kero class

Fictionlet

Uncle Bob shook his head. "I'm worried about you, my boy. Worried! All you ever do is sit around this bourgeois apartment you've set up for yourself, clacking away at the keyboard, taking abuse from that harridan. You need, in short, to get a life."

Greg shook his head. "I have a life, thank you, and one that suits me nicely. I'm a natural-born keyboard clacker."

"Balls!" said Uncle Bob. "You're too young spend your life sitting on your butt. Now, as your Godfather and brother to the lovely lady who gave you life, I feel responsible for you, and it's my duty to see that you get out there and experience the grand tapestry of life."

"You? Responsible?"

"Don't sound so dubious, you little brat! I've had a long and rich life, and I know whereof I speak."

Greg pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. "You spent the '70s riding in the back of a van with a band called 'Fab Rick and the Softeners'."

"Exactly! We had adventures, my boy. Adventures!"

"Like being held for ten days in a county jail on possession charges?" Greg said. "Sounds thrilling."

"Who told you about that?"

"That would be the lovely lady who gave me life you mentioned earlier," Greg said. "Mother was very fond of you, Uncle Bob, but she had no illusions about you, either."

"Well, it wasn't my marijuana anyway," said Bob. "I was an innocent bystander, and that deputy had it in for us from the start."

"Don't they all?" said Greg, and turned back to his keyboard.

-The Gneech

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