And Shakespeare would have loved Twitter. So would Groucho Marx. So would Karl Marx. “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” “I don’t want to belong to any club that will accept people like me as a member.” “Religion is the opiate of the people.”
All under 140 characters - all will be burned into the human heart for as long as mankind loves, laughs and dreams of change. We have always tweeted, long before the invention of Twitter.
But it is difficult to start tweeting now because the party is well underway. It takes a while to get the rhythm and the tone right, like a foreigner coming to play in the Premier League. And you begin with no followers, so inevitably you feel a bit shy when you knock on the door with your bottle of plonk. But soon you will be in the party mood, swinging naked from the chandeliers and screaming, “Jackhammer me! Jackhammer me!”
Twitter, like life, is what you make it - do you follow Floyd Mayweather Junior or Frank Gardner or JK Rowling or Danny Baker or Rio Ferdinand? Or why not follow all of them? I do.
Hating Twitter seems perverse. It is like hating the future, the truth, the mighty river of information that we all swim in, like it or not. And despite what the Twitter refuseniks will tell you, those 140 characters give you plenty of room to say something.
Just as long as you have something to say.
- 5th August
2011 - 05
