Twitter. Who cares?

This post is a little different folks.

You see normally I will regale you with something I use, have researched and that I’m enthusiastic that you should know about.

But this time I was going to write about something that I hadn’t used before, didn’t know much about except that it’s booming in popularity…but that my ignorance was not going to prevent me ripping the absolute piss out of it.

And that something is called Twitter.

You’ve probably heard of it by now, partly due to Stephen Fry describing being stuck in a lift on it but essentially Twitter is a web based service which allows you to post short messages even by mobile phone on its website. These messages are called Tweets and they are a maximum of 140 characters.

But the lofty reason to post these message at all is to tell people what just happened in your life and in turn you can follow the posts of other people who tell you what just happened in their life as well.

twitterTranslation: it’s a glorified bloody text message to the whole World that you just stubbed your toe or that tube of Pringles didn’t last long.

Because that’s our life, little events of no consequence except to us. We live it, we endure it, we may even enjoy it but who the frig else needs to know. And who’s sad enough to want to know it was actually the little toe on the right foot that got stubbed.

Forget celebrities, I know they have bowel movements too, I don’t need to know how often thank you. Frankly there’s only two people I might want to know the daily lives of and that’s Barack Obama and Hugh Hefner.

Actually make that one person. The Hef, that lucky, lucky wrinkled old bugger. What other Octogenarian in history can be the cause of so much penis envy.

But anyway, back to my Twitter witter, there I was with all of my disdain mapped out, I just needed a little extra research to direct my scorn with total authority.

Which God help me, meant signing up for Twitter myself.

And I did, and it was quite simple, and then there was this neat interface with engaging little pictures and oh, you can customize it and the writing was all friendly…and…and…holy crap on a stick, I was one of them now

Because once I saw for myself what it was all about, and could dispel my grumpy notions that it had no merit at all, I realized that it might be me who needs to get a life.

If Britney Spears thinks something is awesome and someone wants to read it then why should I care if she is using Twitter to do it. And aren’t I doing the same thing really with this blog except I’m praying that I’m not just doing all of this for myself.

Yes, most of Twitter really is an irrelevance, but you get to choose exactly whose irrelevance to follow and I don’t mind saying the next time Stephen Fry gets stuck in a lift I will be amongst the first to know.

And for that matter if I ever got stuck in a lift (it’s too much to hope to be in the same one as Mr Fry) people could follow my personal drama because I’m on Twitter now.

So I’ve hauled my opinion around. My instinctive bias of Twitter and its users was wrong and my carefully honed preparatory dismissals have been ripped up.

But still, nobody needs Twitter and by all means you can discount it with all the glee previously shared by myself, although if you are curious about it I include this link to my page and you can explore it from there.

Because apart from use in an unlucky run of elevator emergencies I have a new platform to promote this blog and a fresh place for my more random scribblings. And with a maximum of only 140 characters on Twitter it’ll be a lot bloody quicker to type as well.

It’s disappointing to find out that Hugh Hefner isn’t on it though.


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