Emo Joe explains why Twitter makes sense to him.
No longer am I bound by the crushing social psychosis unleashed by millions of glittering and obtrusive MySpace profiles. No longer must I yield to those insipid Facebook pokes, quizzes and 25 random things. No longer will I be confronted by another invasive and unbecoming photo tag that always shows me at my worst.
With Twitter, I escaped from a slow, man-sized iron pot that simmers on a low flame, in a deep jungle clearing, lit up by a moon that mocks me. The pot is surrounded by a gaggle of barely tolerated online friends and very loose acquaintances, all whipped into a dancing frenzy of incessant oversharing. More and more people I do not know, or hardly know, began to “add” me to their growing list of friends. Who are you people? I don’t know you.
It seems the casual nature of pseudo friendships on Twitter is preferable (and more Emo) to the intense nature of pseudo friendships on MyFaceSpace. I’m down with that, even though I’ve never painted my toenails black and I like music that picks me up.
