TWATE

the-beginner-s-guide-to-twitter-d5e5ee7224It’s easy writing rants. Aggressive, whiney internet outbursts about things that are familiar to all of us are piecemeal: “a piece of piss,” as your mother would say. Swearing egregiously to the point of something being mildly funny or a teenager finding it so awesome-cool because the author used the word cunt and got away with it comes naturally to any hack with a keyboard. “What I hate about…” “10 reasons why we can’t stand…” “WTF is it with…?” etc.

You know them.

You’ve read them.

You’ve laughed at them.

You like reading them.

Here’s another one.

Twate

Twitter’s getting on my nerves. I love it, but loads and loads of things about it are winding me up no end. In fact, the fact that I refer to Twitter as an “it” as though it’s a single, unified thing is one of those annoyances. How can Twitter or Facebook annoy you? It’s the people. They’re the idiots. And guess what? You’re one of them. Your friends are them. Your parents. Those you love. Your children. They will become the most annoyingly superficial drones consumed by marketing and bending over for Likes and letting Coca Cola know what colour knickers they’re wearing. We’re all fucking doomed.

Tweeps

I’m not a Tweep. Fuck you. I hate it. HEY TWEEPS! No. Please stop referring to people on Twitter as some kind of collective. I don’t like you. I’m not like you. My views aren’t necessarily left wing. I’m not into Social media as a thing. I don’t find it fascinating. I’m not in your gang. I don’t moan about “all those people on Facebook compared to those on Twitter (see above).” The fact that you call me a Tweep makes me want post every picture I have of my children on Facebook and tag you in every single one.

Cockteasers

Oh no.” “WTF?!” “Not again.” “Why do bad things happen to good people.” “Just got this awesome job!” “Brilliant news!

If anyone on your timeline posts anything like this hunt them down. TELL ME WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT OTHERWISE DON’T SHARE IT, FFS. I mean, your phone/PC/tablet etc. is not a natural extension of your brain’s cerebral cortex. If you’re hit on the knee, it hurts, you say “ow” – you don’t type it on your phone and hit SEND. So why, why on earth if something good or bad happens, do we have to be subjected to the same emotional reaction on Twitter? If you’re happy, be happy, if you’re sad, that’s a shame. But unless you detail the reason why you’ve reacted as you have I don’t fucking care. Those tweets are contrived and sickeningly attention-seeking.

What’s happened?” “You ok?” “What job?” “What did you do this time?

It’s what you want isn’t it? You want people to ask you. You need it. Your whole post is designed to get other people to ask you what you’re talking about. You whore. You fucking love it.

Know what’s worse? The people who then don’t fucking tell you. “Oh, it’s nothing.” “I can’t say what the job is yet but I’m really happy.” “Nothing I can’t handle, don’t worry.” WELL DON’T FUCKING POST IT THEN YOU CUNT (I did it! #cuntforhits).

Why rush to your device, post “GREAT NEWS!” and then not tell anyone what it is you mean? What sort of a human being are you?

Over-importance

My Tweets are my own. These Tweets don’t reflect those of my company. Etc. How important do you think you, and your Tweets are? Serious question. Most of us are so far down the ladder at our places of work that any statement we make will never, in even the most bloody-thirsty tabloid hack’s mind will bother to make a connection. You don’t carry that kind of weight. Sorry to break it you.

Also, if your company doesn’t want to be associated with who you are, why advertise your company on your profile? They don’t give a fuck about you, so why give them free press? What’s more, why is it necessary to say, “I CLEAN BINS FOR MICROSOFT, TWEETS MY OWN”? Just don’t mention it. I don’t care what you do for a living. I doubt many people do. I think that’s the problem: deep down we know no-one cares and we’re afraid of that – or something.

Wives/girlfriends in profile pic

You’re getting laid, well done. Your missus doesn’t look bad either. Well done. You love her very much. That’s great. She’s the best thing to ever have happened in your life. I’m happy for you. You’ve included her Twitter handle in your profile as a way of intrinsically linking you together in a marriage made in cyberspace. You’re the most caring, considering fucking doormat I’ve ever seen. You make me sick.

On a related note, girls who have Twitter names as @[….]sbird need to look at whether they have an independent thought or bone in their spineless, insecure little bodies. Tragic. Your personality is not an extension of your boyfriend’s. I dunno, maybe it is.

Replace something with something else

It isn’t funny. Replacing “The Godfather Trilogy” with “The Horsefather Trilogy” isn’t funny. It isn’t funny. It’s a humourless, moribund waste of time. You’re bored. It’s a harmless little game. I can just ignore it. You’re not hurting anyone.

You’re trying to be funny. You’re also trying to get more followers. The more people who click on the trend, the more chance you have of people following you. They’re not following you because they’ve searched for people with the same interests, or because you’ve said something poignant and interesting that been retweeted a few hundred times and made people curious to just who that genius actually is. No, you want followers who think #replacefilmtitlesbeggingwithZtoB is an amusing pastime. It isn’t. Do something else. Contemplate something. Put the phone down. Think about that girlfriend/wife you’re so fucking obsessed with.

It’s not you it’s me

That’s probably the long and short of it. Much of it is my problem. You’re all just people. You can’t help it, I suppose. I should calm down. I’m obviously just projecting. Yes, yes, please find the offending tweets on my timeline where I show I’m no better than the rest of you and I therefore have no right to complain and somehow that makes you believe you have found the moral high ground and thus don’t change a single thing about your behaviour. or something.

Or maybe I’m right – think about that. Maybe that grumpy cunt (\o/) in the corner actually has a point? Probably not though, eh? No matter, I’ll just have to adjust my view of you all accordingly.

There.

Adjusted.

Nothing.

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2 responses to “TWATE

  1. As rants go, that’s a corker. Nice work.
    I’ve always preferred the word “twats” or “twunts” to use as a collective, rather than tweeps.

    Now, let me amuse myself by “liking” this post.

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