Hey, you. Yeah, you. You, the person who uses Twitter at a rate of about four tweets per minute.
Listen, it’s not that I don’t like you personally. I do. I DO like you. But your incessant tweeting? Yeah, it’s kind of making me hate you.
It’s not your fault. I’m sure in your head, even in certain circles, each and every one of your tweets would be totally appropriate, if not really interesting. It’s just the overwhelming volume and rapidity that you choose to spew them at the Internet is just…well, overwhelming.
You’re crowding out everyone else. You are that kid at the choir concert who deliberately sings too loud to drown out the other voices. You’re the shortstop who keeps diving in front of the outfielder to catch the pop fly. You’re the game show contestant who keeps buzzing in, except instead of answers you just want to tell us what you’re doing, or about to do, or thinking, or having for lunch.
Listen, this isn’t me being a Luddite. I love Twitter. Sure, I resisted at first, but now I’m on board. It’s fun.
But you know what isn’t fun? Getting the play-by-play of your drive to the grocery store. Hearing all 36 of your favorite lines from the show you’re watching. Seeing your face fill 17 of the 26 available slots on my Twitter homepage.
Again, I like you. I like your thoughts. I like your face. I just don’t like when you abuse that like.