"James Dobson's letter-writing campaign to set me straight re God and GOP appears to be backfiring. Most e-mails from his Web site the past two days disagree with Dobson."
As my son would say, "Baaam!"
Truth be known, I confess to a certain, inexplicable calm. Gratification, if you will. Shoulders relaxing. Perhaps, just perhaps, there is something to this twittering business.
One's every-other-thought couldn't be considered compelling, surely. But there may be merit to this yet-new thing. Wouldn't we be interested in, say, Ahmadinejad's twitterings? Barack Obama's? Sarah Palin's?
Come to think of it, how long before we begin to expect, if not demand, that public officials twitter? Already, blogging is de rigueur for anyone seeking a wide audience or market share. Nearly every newspaper Web site now offers multiple, topic-specific blogs to which reporters, editors and columnists are expected to post.
The Obama campaign revolutionized political communication and fundraising. Fireside chats and radio addresses may nurture our nostalgia, but blogs and twitters feed our need for speed. They also give an impression of human contact without the muss and fuss of actual intimacy.
For serious twitterers, there is additionally a commercial aspect. Building one's base, so to speak, eventually leads to possible marketing opportunities. When one has a million subscribers to one's thoughts, then one may have a salable asset. A penny for your thoughts potentially becomes legal tender.
What all this means in the long term is anyone's guess. How much information can a brain usefully process? What end is served by the random tweets of countless individuals? The impulse to stay incessantly in touch can be viewed either as gregarious or as a sign of consuming anxiety. Twittering may be the opiate of the obsessively-compulsively disordered.
Who needs the couch, after all, when no thought is ever repressed?
Something to consider. Or, perchance, to tweet?