The other day my wife asked me, “have you ever read an intelligent tweet?” I didn’t answer. So the next day I tweeted, “my wife asked me last night, had I ever read an intelligent tweet?” Nobody answered, although not a lot of people follow me. And nobody reads this blog either, so again, nobody will answer.
That’s just fine. On matters of life and death like Twitter, it’s best to remain anonymous. After all, 100% of the people who tweet had “The Emperor’s New Clothes” read to them when they were little, and here they all are, me included, terrified to speak out. Who can blame us? The Emperor could turn out to be wearing a magnificent suit, and then we’d have to spend eternity with all the Academy members who didn’t give best picture to North by Northwest or The Wild Bunch.
It’s probably best to ask questions instead of supplying answers. Here are some that may or may not be good.
- If you set millions of people to writing Emily Dickinson couplets, how would they do?
- What percentage of people who tweet know who Jenny Holzer is?
- And what percentage of those people are embarrassed that they’re not as good?
- If Twitter turns out to be no different from the Sunday coupon inserts, will you mourn?
- What could you be doing instead?
- If your writing is stupid, does that mean your thinking is stupid?
Or, back off a little, and consider that many things that aren’t any good turn out, 100 years later, to be important artifacts of cultural history. That’s a pretty good weasel.
Tim, I don't know where I've been, but I'm just now catching up with your posts. I love your keen eye for human foible, always delivered up with a dash of self-deprecation.
ReplyDeleteI think you're asking the right questions. Indeed, what could we be doing instead?