The problem with Twitter

I love Twitter. No, I L-O-V-E Twitter! How interesting it is to communicate with people all over the world. How amazing to know that someone in Ohio or Milan or Australia has the same sense of humour as I do. How fun to read a smart ass remark about someone else's day or perception of life in general. In my world, there is nothing more entertaining than a twisted mind. A.K.A. I am hooked.

Now here's what I don't like - and I have tweeted about this a few times. Why does it have to be all about the stars? And then with the frickin' lists?? Why did it have to become a competition? Or a buy one get one free deal?

Maybe it's like money and we think - for some strange reason - that whoever gets the most is a better person. Maybe it's like an orgasm and if I give you one, proper etiquette dictates that I should get one, too.

I thought the stars were a way to know that someone related with me, a way to say you made me laugh or keep up the good work (remember kindergarten?). I thought it was okay that sometimes I'll be funny, sometimes you'll be funny; that the guy over there will hit the nail on the head almost every time, the other will keep getting his thumb in the way. Isn't that life? Someone's got to tell the joke but there has to be someone to laugh, too, right? We ALL count.

Some people star every tweet that has already been starred. I'm sure their heart is in the right place but those stars mean nothing to me. That's like faking your orgasm. Don't get me wrong... if I get my orgasm, you can go ahead and fake yours all you want but, if you're going to just throw it away, why even bother? And, if you aren't going to hold out for the real thing, how will anyone ever know what really gets you off? (Note: this is also my philosophy on real orgasms. In case you were wondering.)

My dear Twitter friends, believe me when I say: it would be much more satisfying to me if you have a real orgasm, too. Let's get back to the pleasure, and forget the work.

Kisses, Bef

P.S. Gee, I wonder if this will get any stars.
P.P.S. Gee, I wonder how many people following me will dump my ass after reading this.
P.P.P.S. Gee, I wonder if they realize that it won't matter, I'll still tell you every lame thought that enters my head (my real friends think it's awesome that I have someone else to listen to my weird shit for a change).