In the Arena

Not a Twit

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Ok, I’m in crisis, existentially stressed. Unlike other Swamplanders, I can’t bring myself to twitter. I’m not sure I quite understand what it is…except that it’s another thing. And I’m still trying to figure out the various things I have.

On the other hand, I don’t want to fall behind. I mean, if everybody’s twittering… I mean, what if George Stephanopoulos has a deathless thought and I don’t find out about it until a…few…hours…later? You don’t want to be a zeitgeist laggard, right?

But then again, why on earth would anyone want to know what I’m thinking at any given minute–and why on earth should I be asked to provide it? Already, this blogging business causes me, at times, to share thoughts that probably should be subject to more, uh, thought. And all this time I spend opining detracts from time I might spend…reading. Or reporting, for that matter.

On the fourth, or maybe fifth, hand, I used to say that getting an ipod was a bridge too far–and now I have 3,486 songs on mine.

So, where do I sign up?

Update: On the other hand, I’ve got too much stuff to do today. Maybe next week.

Further Update: Wait. I’m going to be at spring training with my son next week. Don’t want to do anything as strenuous as twitter-training then.

And furthe… Oh forget it.