When Keeping It Real On Twitter Goes Wrong ...

So don't read it. Go eat a fig and drink a beer in your backyard. Why waste time attacking other people for meaningless hyperbolic flattery?

 

Yep, I better get my fig-eatin' in while I can.
I have flitted through a few of the Twitter accounts of writers in the cabal.
There is a ton of gratification.
And touches of the brim of the straw hat to acknowledge the thanks.
"Thank ya kindly, good sir.
"Until we meet again."
More this than any adult discussion of the merits of a piece.

 

So?

 

A good question for the entire sum of this.

 

Action. Reaction.

It's a fun time to follow this stuff. Far more fun than the 90s and its overload of sentimentality.

 

Oh, I'm only kidding.

I have no doubt that while Charlie doesn't suffer fools gladly, he could certainly get along fine with someone he disagreed with politically.

 

If the praise is genuine and you're wary of others' reactions, then the praise should be done in private messages and/or e-mails. Praising on Twitter says "Look at this guy!! He deserves PRAISE!!!!" with a bit of "Look at ME!!!! I'm praising!!!!"

I know: "We should be able to praise without jerkyfaces making fun!!!!!" I disagree completely. Put communication out there publicly, you are inviting anyone to respond, and some responses may be displeasing.

It's somewhat baffling that a group of dudes who make their living disseminating words for others to read, are shocked when not everyone thinks all of their words - or the words of their buddies - are wonderful.

 

I'm not sure who is worse: the gang of longform writers who love nothing more than to slurp each other and drink whiskey that the rest of us can't afford or even begin to appreciate, or the group of people who love to bash them.

50-50 at the moment.

 

Don't forget the variable regarding one's "soul."

 

I do know which group screams louder about the other, though.

 

Hold up now, Sonner. I drink Jim Beam.

 

Well then. I can appreciate that. Then again, I need a mixer when I drink it. Because I'm a pussy.