My Growing Addiction to Twitter (A True Story)

                When I first got my twitter, I felt confused. I didn’t know how to use it. Rather, I ended up updating it with random sentences I found in articles I thought were funny. Later, after consulting with some of my hip friends, I learned that it could serve as some sort of bookmark database. Essentially, I could have it as an extension of my online brain.

                For a while, I coasted with this idea. Others took it to more adventurous heights, tying it directly to Facebook. Personally, I found such an approach aggravating and as a cheap way of finding people to follow you. Most of my friends began gaining followers this way, by the sheer fact that they knew many of these people in real life. How I decided to do this was to have almost exclusively people add me based on the content of my tweets instead of the content of my character.

                My twitter content remained too uninteresting for most people. No one followed me as I blazed through countless amounts of music links, political links, etc. Honestly, I didn’t mind. Twitter felt alone to me, as a place to reflect on my slowing growing interest in all things net-based. 

                Things changed. After this blog got started, I began thinking about new ways of using twitter. Almost immediately I changed the twitter name to its current name. Links were posted so one could find this more clearly. Hash tags began to be used with ever increasing amounts of abandon. I didn’t care if my review of Mouse on Mar’s album had anything to do with #bringingsexybackthursday. 

                Eventually though, something had to change. My hash tags became more accurate. One day, I lost my tweet at virginity to none other than that scamp, Kari Ferrell (aka the Hipster Grifter). After my in-depth article I wrote about her, she sent me the tweet that forever changed my tweeting world. It simply said:

                “hotdoghandjobs@Beach_Sloth: Everything you said is true, but you forgot about the part where I had seven abortions.”

                I guess she must have googled herself to find my article. She might have searched through hashtags. All I know is she popped my twitter cherry, I was free to frolic within the character limit of 140 words. For that, I’d like to offer her my greatest thanks. 

                After my first twitter hookup, I began to look for something more meaningful, less one-night stand-ish. Slowly I realized entire friendships; relationships could be forged in little, well-thought-out phrases. I could distill the essence of my character into a beautiful phrase, a broken little piece of poetry one might love me by. People became more receptive to me after they realized I wrote large scale pieces as well. Writing articles, reviews, other blurbs garnered me some sort of ‘twitter chops’ proving I could work in a larger format when I wanted.

                Now, after these followers have begun to truly know me, I can never go back. Forever I must respond to others, to interact within a web of similar, like-minded people. In many ways twitter feels freer than the average social network. I can remain completely anonymous, obscure, and distant, mirroring the approach I take with this blog. No one who knows or has met me in real life ever followed me on twitter, so I have complete freedom over the content.

                Plus, while I initially possessed some snobbishness about prolific twitters, I now realize how much of a skill that is. Few Americans actually use twitter or have an account (the percentage is about 6%) so more than most other platforms, you might actually be speaking directly to that very person rather than ‘somebody who handles their website’. Such intimacy while remaining so distant is a great pull. It is easy to update twitter, and most artists/musicians aren’t particularly web savvy, so it’s ideal for them.

                I’ve made many friends through twitter. You know who you people are. You’ve made my life more meaningful, more relevant through your tweets at me. Direct messages are even better; I adore those since they rarely are spam and can be pure emotion. 

                My worry would be if I end up getting too addicted to the constant updates. At times it feels like some sort of addiction, wanting the instant gratification that it undoubtedly brings. I know appreciation should take time, so I’m trying to temper my need for such a quick impulse. Hopefully I’ll continue to meet some of the strangest people possible without the joy or fear of ever having to meet them in person. Though if I ever met one of my followers or person I was following in person, I’d probably know much more about them than I’d be willing to admit. Add me on twitter by going here: Beach_Sloth

Russia’s Worst Spy: Larry the Cable Guy

Russia proves to be that reliable, “Aw shucks you’re still spying on me” kind of enemy. As much as you want to be angry at them for doing it, they do it in such an adorable way. Take Anna Chapman for example. Yeah, she didn’t really get any actual secrets, but she was a hot Russian redhead with leaked nudes. Last time I remember getting naked spy pictures was with the infamous Hipster Grifter (she worked for North Korea). As icing on the cake, Anna’s fellow spies were described in detail as being “sort of lazy”. What a great enemy to have.

None of these spies possessed the incompetence shown by one tireless trooper, whose nudes I hope never leak. Single-handedly, he has done less to harm the United States than overpriced free trade coffee and tariffs on antique Soviet cameras. Yes, I’m speaking of Vlad Badenoff, a skilled cryptographer from the former Soviet Republic of Belarus or, as you might know him, Larry the Cable Guy.

Vlad was born in Belarus to a lower level political functionary. Almost immediately his teacher noticed his penchant for torturing flies by ripping their wings off and for sending mysterious codes to his other classmates. Being placed into an accelerated track, he shocked others with his easy grasp of cryptography. However, ominously, people complained of his tendency to tell off color and inappropriate jokes.

Working in the Soviet Union in the 80s, he tried to help the war effort in Afghanistan. Noticing a large defection rate from his unit, Soviet officials investigated. They learned people in his unit grew offended when he asked them “Have you ever farted so hard that you cracked your back?” In the USSR, telling fart jokes was a crime punishable by death. Fearing losing one of the greatest minds in the field, they transferred him over to East Berlin, where he helped torture political prisoners with his comedy routine. 

After the fall of the Berlin Wall, Soviet officials racked their brains thinking of what potential use the irritating cryptographer could provide. On one hand, they sort of wanted to eliminate him. But they knew their time was tenuous, and that any move towards harming him might result in a destabilization of their power. Instead they sent him out to the US to ineffectively spy on the US.

While in the US, he shared such damning information like “There’s a bunch of rednecks here” and “Nebraska is boring”. Being set up in a secret Russian village in rural Nebraska, he began to gain a cult following with his awful attempts at humor. The nonsense spewing from his mouth got considered ‘funny’ by those living in the Deep South. After visiting that area, he found a place he could fit in.

Upon watching the Russian economy tank in 98-99, the Russians set him on a course to ruin American cinema. Doing this they felt it could make Russian-produced movies appear better in comparison. Despite Vlad’s lack of skill and general awfulness, he couldn’t make Russian comedies about Heroin-Addicted pregnant teenage prostitutes appealing beyond the general Sundance Film Festival set.

His uncovering by intelligence agencies occurred during his Roast on Comedy Central. Upon hearing his actual voice, the FBI wanted to storm the stage. Worrying about Gary Busey’s mental stability and possible possession of nuclear weapons, they held off. They tried after the show, but found Larry’s connections to the Blue Collar Comedy Tour were far too strong. Russia remained adamant that they wanted him under no circumstances whatsoever, or else they’d release nude photos of Larry.

Fearful at the havoc this would cause on the internet, creating a Meme even greater than Insane Clown Posse’s “Fuckin’ Magnets, How Do They Work” the US government held off until they found a suitable option. Republican congressman supported Larry remaining in the country, (rightly) claiming that he was useless as a spy. Upon negotiating the many compromises of extending the Bush tax cuts, one of the conditions was that Larry remains in the US to continue what is popularly referred to as a ‘career’. 

Normally I’d be worried at the prospect of revealing such secrets, but since Larry is illiterate in English, I’m not concerned. Hopefully this will exemplify how concerned we should be about the former Red menace.

The Bucket List: People I’d like in my Facebook Profile Picture

               Bucket lists offer a peek into your soul. All that wishes, hopes, dreams are revealed in what appears to be an innocuous list of things. Usually people create it as a way of exploring their most suppressed sexual fantasies, but that’s not all there is.

                Facebook offers one the opportunity to look cool in front of their peers. Some seem to have misconstrued this to mean “Let me hook this up to my twitter and annoy my friends.” Others discovered that by posting and commenting on every political story that comes into their RSS feed. Yes, we get it. Aren’t you ever so opinionated? You get music nerds who post up youtube clips that make you shudder out of embarrassment. No one else shares your love of disco, sorry. Last but not least, there are the dreaded tech fans who get aroused at every new techie product they probably can’t afford or shouldn’t buy.

                The main way of looking cool on facebook: profile pictures. Without even having to read any of the lame quotes (oh, you quoted Nietzsche on your profile, poor tortured soul. Maybe you should read more than two sentences of the guy’s stuff, hmm?) You know how cool that person will be. I never have profile pictures with other people; they are always me, alone. Honestly, I’m not bothered by this, but I wonder how people would react if I had someone else, someone vaguely internet or nerd-famous standing with me. Below are some of the people who might give my humble profile a slight boost. They are categorized by my likelihood of actually meeting them. Let’s begin.

Fairly likely to meet them:

1.       The Hipster Grifter – She’s great. I’ve covered her before, and she goes all over New York City. A few of my friends have met her, greatly improving their respectability.

2.       IMBOYCRAZY.COM (Alexi Wasser) – She’s great. However, she lives in California, so my chances of seeing her in Brooklyn are slim. Plus, she does guerrilla-style interviewing with boys asking them about girls. I’m not sure how comfortable I’d be getting filmed and explaining my thoughts on love, since I have complicated thoughts on that.

3.       Tao Lin – I don’t live terribly far from him. As cool as it would be to meet him, most of my friends in real life have no idea who he is, despite my slight nudges that perhaps they ought to read his books. 

Unlikely to meet them:

4.       David Duchovny – Apparently he hangs out in Brooklyn a lot. Most of my friends would know who he is. When I’m fifty, if I look this good and am this well-read, my life will have been a success. 

5.       Thomas Pynchon – He lives in New York. Despite popular belief, he’s not a recluse, he just dislikes journalists. People can and do meet him, it isn’t particularly tricky. But you need the timing right and the correct vibe. Failure to have either one of these things results in a failure to meet him. What having him in my profile picture would be to simultaneously have a secret and a real scoop, though if he were there, he’d probably just look like some old intellectual dude?

6.       Kim Jong-Il – Yeah, I know this is a weird one. Hear me out. I’d try to get a visa to see the film festival there. Since he personally approves each visitor (they don’t have too many) I might have a fairly decent shot of going. I could claim to be an unpopular blogger who writes for a super-elite group of hipsters.  Oddly, my light poking of his stature could help me. When he saw “Team America” he wasn’t bothered by the obvious mocking of him throughout the movie. Instead, he was annoyed that his puppet didn’t get its own sex scene. So we’re dealing with an extremely strange individual here. Plus, as most of my friends are political junkies, they’d know who he was. Bonus would be to my weird cred, which is calculated by random trips and experiences. I’m ahead in this field. 

7.       Mayo Thompson – I adore him. This is the guy who was cool decades before you knew what he was doing was cool. Every music project of his is excellent, tastefully appointed and artsy as fuck. You can’t come close to this guy’s meticulous timing. A few of my friends would know who he was, since I have a lot of music nerd friends who are confused by him. Even the hippies were afraid of him and he did acid with the secretary of transportation. Oddly, our transportation infrastructure was much better back then, so I have an idea of how to improve it which wouldn’t cost much money at all. 

8.       James Murphy – Many of these people are older than me, at least the unlikely to meet people. I need to meet people older than myself, to convince myself that it is possible to be cool at a certain age, rather than falling into some mid-life crisis buying a red convertible problem. He’s a cool guy and knows way too much about music. Somehow, that seemingly useless information served him well. 

9.       You, dear reader – Sadly, I will never meet any of my readers. This worries me, as great deals of you are cool, hip, relevant people. You spread intelligence, humorous musings, and joy throughout the land. Most of you I imagine are around my age, which would help me get out of being the ‘baby’ of my workplace.

Any of these people could be perfect for that perfect profile picture. I hope someday they’ll grace me with their presence and make me a better, happier person. Who out of these people would you want a picture with? Did I leave out anyone who you think deserves greater attention?