Can We Talk? Twitter Has Grown Weary Edition
Time once more to pull various people, ideas, and cultural institutions aside and ask: Can We Talk?
Opening themes of my kids’ favorite shows: Can We Talk?
Because of you, I know the hours of operation at Doc McStuffins’ practice (she’s currently in, and she’ll fix you up), I’m quite aware of who’s got the power (the power to read), and thanks to Jake and the Neverland Pirates I’m aware that “Yo, ho!” is no longer just a salutatory acknowledgement of an in-the-vicinity lady of the night. I’m going to keep using it though, Disney can’t have ALL the good hooker calls.
Any chance you could be a little less catchy? The kids will still watch. I just don’t need your theme stuck in my head all day. I’d prefer not to “Climb aboard, get ready to explore” when I’m paying bills online. I want to rage-budget unfettered, and not set to the Little Einsteins theme. Sometimes I sing you out loud. At work. You’re making me look like a fool.
Endcaps at Target: Can We Talk?
When I’m strolling through the store and I see multiple endcaps comprised solely of a newly released video game, some experimental Mountain Dew flavor, Family Size Doritos and Slim Jims, and marketed as “America’s entire weekend” I get sad for the people of this nation. I get sad for today’s kids (and grownups) who were born just one generation away from knowing what it’s like to play with their friends outside all weekend, building forts in the woods and pretending to battle imaginary Russians or aliens with cap guns. Just one measly generation away from assembling epic Wiffle ball or street hockey games and looking forward to sleepovers where the closest they’d get to “screen time” was the Twilight Zone rerun they’d stay up until 11:30PM to watch. God, they were so close.
Listen, I know I’m not in the demo that you’re targeting — I haven’t purchased a video game since the controllers had 5 buttons. But when I see you I think about how things are marketed, and how today’s kids will never know it was any different, any better. Video game systems in dark basements are the new backyard, Dorito dust-caked fingers the new knee scrape. I know it’s not your fault, endcaps, but it makes me sad. Can we go back to you displaying seasonal foodstuffs and impulse cleansing needs?
Twitter: Can We Talk?
I know what you’re thinking, here comes another asshat who wants to interview me about going public. Nope! I’m not much of a financial type, my “portfolio” is a Trapper Keeper with a Lamborghini Countach on it. Anyway, I’ll cut to the chase — you’re beginning to suck. Two and a half years ago, I finally created an account mainly to follow Major League Baseball writers and Matthew Perry. Since then, I’ve “met” some really cool people, and being on Twitter has even led to some real life meetups with folks I’ll hopefully maintain long-lasting real life relationships with. I’ve grown weary of you, though, and here’s an example of why — the other day, someone actually tweeted this:
“What’s your favorite kind of potato?”
We all know you play host to more inane bullsh*t per second than Etsy has knit caps, but come on. The potato tweet almost led to my still inevitable William D-FENS Foster Falling Down Twitter moment, when I finally abandon my account in the middle of a gridlocked freeway and go tear a second shift McDonald’s employee a new one for denying me a hash brown at 11:35AM.
Here’s a request: Stop letting people tweet questions that they are only asking because they want to tell people their own answer. That’s annoying. Make it so that if one of your users is hard pressed to ignite a potato-based conversation, they at least have to start a mildly amusing hashtag like #PutPotatoInAn80sSitcomTitle because that’s your last vestige of utility.
I know, I could just unfollow the offending parties, but then I’d have to unfollow everyone. See, the problem is that once a comfort level is established between a tweeter and their followers, they start tweeting things that even their closest real life loved ones wouldn’t give a crap about. I’m guilty of it, and I don’t know how to stop. I’m turning to you for help, Twitter. And no more promotional tweets about new video games, you’re just encouraging the Target endcaps.
Pajiba Love Express
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Not The Worst but still very gross: Leonardo DiCaprio and his
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