If Twitter was a real bird, it would be a red-tailed hawk.
This predatory meat monger is a relatively small bird with an ginormous wingspan. It builds its nest in highly populated areas. And if you fuck with its crib, you’re gonna get raked by its massive talons.
While there are analogous ramifications to a statement like that, unless you’re living in a Winnebago somewhere in New Mexico . . you ain’t allowed to say such a thing and mean it. So I’m joking, of course. Even if the metaphorical equivalency is righter than Reagan in the passenger seat of a Buick.
Granted, it’s not just Twitter. You can argue that social media, as a whole, is a legal form of opioid addiction. It possesses many of the same qualities: It feels good, it’s damn near impossible to quit and it gives us a specific high that real life can’t touch.
Twitter just happens to be the problem child of social media. It’s the screaming kid in a Target who just will not shut the fuck up. That’s because Twitter feeds our impulsive natures so damned effectively. And for every bridge it builds, it burns a hundred more. Don’t take my word for it, just follow Trump’s twitter feed.
Roseanne Barr is just the latest dope in an endless sea of ’em to get flushed by the red tailed hawk. Was her tweet racially charged, or just the latest stupid shit to dry hump the public forum from some big mouthed Twitter account?
Imma go with stupid. I don’t think it’s smart to attach a racial component to every single stupid shit thing that someone says. I think doing so only provides cover for the legit racists out there. Barr pressed send on a stupid fucking thought that was in her head when she should’ve taken a pill and a vodka tonic instead. And for every asshole celebrity that says stupid shit, there are tens of millions of scavengers whose impulsive natures will be sated in the ensuing crush mob.
I’m much more disturbed by that crush mob of people, who sit in the convenient darkness tweeting back racial epithets to Barr’s first shot. There is a vicious economy to that kind of mean, the kind that spurs growth. And it makes me wonder how it is that we lost the mythological significance of the technology age to this scatological quagmire.
This wingspan has plundered the public consciousness with a bread and circuses manifesto. We consider it a fascination. We laugh and we shake our heads and we move on. We never mind its poisonous talons. It’s all good.
That’s how social engineering works. It’s a slow creep, an advancement whose principles do not need identification in order to move forward. It feeds on our actions, it simplifies our needs. We need more of the less, as if it’s damn near everything.
So what are we doing here? Where are we going? And how in the hell do we ever get back? Well . . we don’t know. We can’t know. And we don’t get back. Not ever. We ain’t putting the toothpaste back in the tube now, seeing as how it’s just too much fun to have every single thing at the touch of a button. And I don’t know about you, but I’m plenty fine with going down the rabbit hole, for better or worse. Because to blame me or the peeps I keep company with for what social media will morph into some day is to blame my grandfather for the hydrogen bomb.
As for that screaming kid in Target who just will not shut the fuck up, my advice to you is simple. Brace for impact . . and enjoy. You won’t even feel it happening.