Monday, 12 January 2009
Monday
Three new pictures in the vault. Been in a strange mood precipitated either by an approaching cold or by two days watching the Twitterers go by. It’s as intriguing as it is depressing. Large swathes of human beings have nothing interesting to say but will say it nevertheless. I’d much rather somebody spoke nonsense that read about their preparations for the Sunday roast or how many tax forms they’ve completed. I even find myself defending Wossy who can actually be funny in his Tweets. Funnier, at least, than accountants and ever-so-sincere teenagers moaning on about ‘sickos’ who pretend to be famous people. It’s a difficult balance to strike. I’m tempted to turn Him into a voicebox for aphorisms such as ‘Celebrity is oppression; a tyranny of the few over the masses’ or ‘Fame is toxic and celebrity the result’. If feels like Twitter is now becoming overrun by celebrities at the rate that rats reproduced during the great plague. Yet the truth is that I’d always choose John Cleese’s smallest utterance over the ramblings of yet another social networking guru advertising a blog about media trends. Why do people bore me so utterly? Am I just a freak?
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5 comments:
I should imagine that the vast majority of sane people are bored by and have disdain for the masses of boring gurus. I am, for one.
Would it be too late to ask for an invitation to your top-secret vault thing? Your cartoons are not my favourite things in the world, but it would be delightful—I've been feeling a bit left out.
Well, Hans, I would have preferred it if you had said my cartoons are your favourite things in the world (I would have accepted a lie) but okay... Invite sent. It would be delightful. Just don't expect too much. ;o)
LOL!
Now that's what I call fan mail.
You are far from just a freak. However, I would simply suggest that you don't bother twittering. I believe you can subscribe to the tweets of whomever you like without actually having to be on the thing.
Perhaps, though, like an infinite amount of momkeys on typewriters eventually producing the works of Shakespeare,the collective banalities of Twitter will one day amount to a canon of literary genius.
Or, y'know, perhaps not.
Brit, my fan mail usually runs to three dozen SPAM messages and an offer to free me of my genitals for daring insult some celebrity. I'll take even the merest hint of affirmation.
Andrew, oh, couldn't agree with you more. However, there's a small part of my psyche that enjoyed twittering about the darts on Sunday. I hate darts, of course, but I enjoyed twittering about them. I'm taking the 140 character limit as a challenge to be funny, odd, yet succinct.
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