Twitter my arse
Grandad October 28th, 2008
Maybe it’s my age, but I just cannot understand this obsession with mobile phones.
I carry one with me because I do find it convenient sometimes. There are times when I call around to someone and I forget where they live so I ring them and they tell me. Then there is the odd occasion when I am in the chemist and I forget whether Herself is on the 600mg or the 800mg of Valium, so I ring her and she tells me. It’s also quite handy if I’m up the mountains, and the car breaks down so I can call Spanner to come and give me a tow back home.
There is an advertisement on the television for one of these new fangled phones, and one of the features they shout about is that you can “order those tickets wherever you are”. I have been trying unsuccessfully to come up with some scenario where I am wandering around somewhere and I suddenly think “Shit! I must order those tickets immediately. It can’t wait until I get home.” And when would I conceivably want to browse the Interweb as a matter of urgency?
My phone can connect to the Interweb. I tried it once, and it worked for about five minutes before it cleaned out my account. The sites I visited were fiddly and virtually unusable, and I certainly didn’t learn anything that made the exercise worthwhile. I haven’t used it for that since. I cannot envisage any scenario where I will have to use it in the future.
Then there is Twitter.
Twitter is so far outside my realms of understanding that I have to ignore it, else I’d go insane.
I signed up for Twitter, because everyone is going on about it, and I wanted to see what it was about. As far as I can gather, I am supposed to send text messages from my phone saying things like “I am just having a dump” or “This pint is nice and creamy”. Who gives a flying fuck what I’m doing? Why would I feel the need to broadcast it anyway? Am I so dissatisfied with my own company that I feel the urge to share every moment with everyone? If I want to tell someone something, then all I have to do is phone them, or at least send them a text message. Why do I need to know that someone is “Fiddling with my blog post” or “Waiting to board for me flight to nyc”?
headrambles @everyone Get a fucking life.
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