Twitter.

Firstly, in an attempt to really get my message of what I think Twitter boils down to, I have put no forethought into this blog, and I will not edit it at all. No backspaces or spellcheks==cks orn othing. Oh, hsit. FUKC! DIKASN~AKJD#AL!@!

Okay, I will allow backspaces.

Now, in case you're wondering, this is what my attempts at writing every week look like. One post every... Huh. One month exactly. Okay, it's a monthly blog then. Savor it. Although that aspect has failed, I do still hate the internet, so this week-- Er, month (See? a smooth transition), I hate on Twitter.

The concept of Twitter, based on 30 seconds on their homepage and 4 times the recommended dose of this energy drink (Which I consumed because either A) It's a clever metaphor on the ADD, low impulse-controlled teens who primarily use Twitter, or B) It was freeeeeee.) is to "discover what's happening right now, anywhere in the world." And before you ask, that is just their slogan copied and pasted here. Congratulations, detective.

Based on immediate observations, randomly clicking on a Twitter account should be boring as all hell, or just plain depressing. Let's see!

Contestant number one: Darealscarface.

Oh. Oh Dareal. You're all I need. Thank you so much.

"I'm gone but I leave u with this, everytime u fall get up but if u keep on fallin down look to see wut u standin on, might be ya foundation"

Okay, well, first, "I'm gone" would indicate you are leaving, i.e. are going to stop tweeting, despite the fact you returned an hour later with "ever buy the round of 40s and as u passin them out the last one is yours and you drop and break dat ho #S"

Now, I don't want to piss off a dude who recommends you "drop and break dat ho," because I'm fairly certain that I would be accepted into a ho fraternity long before I was accepted into a gangsta one (I have very soft skin), but I really want to spend some time trying to decipher... That.

I'm thinking "round of 40s" is a 40 ounce of... What is a 40 ounce? I'm going with beer. And then you "passin them out". Okay, cool. It's nice of you to share. The "last one is yours." Cool. And then, bam! Attack a passing prostitute! Now I'm wondering if a 40 ounce is like, straight bourbon or something. If that's the case, I think you need to find a better way to deal with your anger than drunkenly assaulting random street vixens, Darrel. We worry about you.

Getting back on topic, Mr. Scarface here is a prime example of why Twitter is a horrible idea. Encouraging people to post whatever they're thinking, all the time, is just an awful plan. I'm sure the police who arrested Darrel The Ripper were thankful he slipped up with his tweets, but do the goods this site might do outweigh the bads? I submit that they do not, if for no other reason than the little boxes with random tweeters in it are far too small, and when I clicked on what looked like the hottest chick there I got Queen Latifah, and the last hour I spent re-evaluating my sexual orientation were deeply confusing.


Oh, also, I lied to you. When I said there would be no planning. I actually kept a log of all my thoughts during this blogging, and kept them to a strict, 140-character, twittery limit. I did it to demonstrate exactly what the internet does not need 60 million examples of:


Alrighty, blog time. I think that's about the 17th time I've said that in the last month.

Okay, let's see. Why I hate Twitter. I sort of covered "no one cares what you think" in the Facebook blog. Oh! Character limit! I hate--

Holy CRAP using exactly 140 characters for that joke was hard. Character limit sucks balls, by the way.

Free energy drinks are fucking awesome.

A good synonym for prostitute? I'm tempted to use Whore-slut. That's a little harsh. Am I typing it anyway? How much caffeine have I had?

I tweet that I this just to ake sure everyone noticed I turned "da real" into "Darrel". I am a genius.

The start of that tweet made exactly no sense and my hands are now starting to type whatever they want. That's enough energy drinks.

'Spose I should look into the actual website a bit more. Shit these pictures are tiny. Oh, hey. She looks like a bit of alright.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! DRINK ALL THE CAFFEINE! MAYBE MY BRAIN WILL SHORT-CIRCUIT AND WE CAN PRETEND THIS NEVER HAPPENED!

Okay, so fuck Twitter.
What the fuck are you doing? That's not how you unlock the closet.

40 minutes wasted. If the cat can't work a simple closet-lock, how would he get into the vault? He's off the bank crew.

Man, this amount of stimulants make 140 the perfect amount of characters. I'm bored by 150. Bored or violently shaking.

Goddamn it! I had something really funny I was building up to. But my hands keep typing "need guarana". STAY THE COURSE, HANDS.

Tweeting from emergency room now. Went into some sort of diabetic coma.

Oh yeah, I have diabetes now. I developed it in 4 hours. Doctor says he's never seen it before.

I'm bored of waiting for my diabetes-trophy. I think constantly tweeting is affecting my attention-span.

Is it okay to tweet while pooping? I'm gonna go for it.

NEED GUARANA NEED GUARANA NEED GUARANA NEED GUARANA NEED GUARAN-- Hey, quit it!

BUY OFFICE MAX.

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I could keep going. Do you want this? Now imagine 60 million of us. Imagine people just saying whatever pops into their heads, whenever. Real life Twitter would be fucking madness, so why does internet Twitter make any sense? It doesn't. Stop this. Please. Please stop the insanity. Do your part and steal a teenagers cell phone today.