I don’t think I have enough Twitter followers. I certainly have less than my newest follower, a man who operates a space cult/gift shoppe/think tank. He has over 12,000 people that got to see him tweet all the lyrics to Queen’s rock standard “Bohemian Rhapsody” line by line on July 1. He even included the pauses with the use of …’s and –>’s. It was like Freddie Mercury was a live again, there on Twitter, bringing back all the magic of a live show with or without the Muppets.
I mean, I’m not ungrateful for the 60 followers I’ve amassed (it is, technically, a mass) in less than a month on every Ritalin-withdrawn Millenial’s favorite short-attention-span-serving social network. But seriously, 12,000 for a guy whose “gift shoppe” was a close-up picture of a cat’s eyes that linked to the ASPCA pet adoption homepage like the whole website/space cult/gift shoppe/think tank was some sick joke instigated by an intern working for Sarah McLachlan’s publicist?
Twitter is great if you can stop wanting to cry at shit like Courtney Stodden’s continued grasp on some kind of existence resembling “fame” and just laugh, but why don’t I feel validated as a human being every time something shallow and vapid enough to express in only 140 characters pops into my head? Not that 140 characters isn’t enough to say something (contextually) profound like, “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind,” or, “I pooped in my pants.” It’s just that, seriously, let’s not act like Twitter is where anything important is gonna happen except maybe getting Betty White another hosting spot on SNL, and even that’s only got limited geo-political implications.
And that’s another thing, I didn’t see any evidence of this space cult/gift shoppe/think tank’s alleged third wing. Even if a lot of people (especially Republicans) are using the term “think tank” pretty liberally now (PUN FUCKIN’ INTENDED, BITCHES), I don’t think you can count an atheist, anarchist, humanist, separatist manifesto remixed into a techno song the kind of thought that would require any sort of tank to produce it. Quite the contrary, the video seemed to evidence that it was really more just one guy recording himself on his webcam in a dark room where the only light emanated from his computer screen as reflected in large, square lens of his glasses the sleek coat of grease on his second chin.
Anyway, more people should follow me on Twitter. Because if you can prove that I’m not clever, I’ll dare you to try and stop a speeding bus with magic.
This is the first of our newest column, a series of rants by the talented and charming Max Cothrel. Follow him on Twitter. Seriously, fucking follow him. Did you just read that all up there? Dude’s gonna pop off about the internet.