Twitter, I don’t feel funny anymore

Twitter, I don’t feel funny anymore

Normally this isn’t a problem.

Example: You go to the genitals doctor, and you’re all like ‘Hey! It used to feel like I was peeing meteors, but now I don’t feel funny anymore!’

That would otherwise be regarded as a win. In my case, it’s more like performance anxiety as a result of blasé traffic.

Recently, The Loser Table has made it a habit of recording our lunchcapades. Unfortunately, as soon as one of our iPhones is set to record, I fall flat. It’s like someone steals my funny bone and beats me with it. For those concerned with anatomy, the funny bone is located in the chest, and it keeps the heart in place.

I digress.

I have found that social networking sites have been doing some sort of mythical game of musical chairs where one site is pitted against the other for traffic. More specifically, folks will go to Twitter on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays; Facebook on Tuesdays and Thursdays. (Note: MySpace not listed — populated by crickets and pedophiles. Neither of which count.) So, when I dive into a tweet tirade, I almost expect that someone will see it, maybe get a chuckle. Then I’m reminded that I suck at being funny in more than 139 characters, and turn to hummus and Doritos to cope. Facebook is a little more sensitive as it includes family for most of us users. And for most of us, we don’t want our families knowing that we are talking about how much so-and-so’s toupee smells like cheese and burning cats. Twitter was supposed to be a refuge for such divulging. Alas, so-and-so only wears their toupee on Tuesdays and Thursdays because they are covering cats in pepperjack and throwing them into cars covered in gasoline, and they wouldn’t want to get their scalp all sooty.

I don’t have an uncle like that, but I read your tweet feed and you should call the cops.

Ahem.

I think that the Twitter bubble has burst, and we’re left to pick up the pieces.

Fail Whale Demands a Sacrifice

I see loads and loads of terrific tweets filling my feed. Problem is, the audience is not there. People have been desensitized to hilarity. Quips and clever anecdotes are no longer readable as they have already been done.

What are we to do now?

The answer is so deceptively simple, it’s absurd. I was watching Shutter Island in theaters some weeks ago, and it came to me:

Do a reboot of all the funny and profound tweets.

I would like to thank Hollywood writers for giving me the idea. And no, Hollywood, you may not collect internet money on my idea. It’s not yours. However, you may collect on Ironman, Batman and any other 80s phenomenon you wish. In fact, why not make a reboot of Uncle Buck. Only this time, Buck will be addicted to meth.

Getting to the point, I plan on going back to my first tweet and rewriting each subsequent tweet with a Shyamalan twist that will make you shit yourself.

For example, my first tweet:

‘This is a test’

I will reboot this tweet with CGI, a young virile cast, and a bigger budget. The new tweet should look something like this:

‘This is a zombie Tiger Michael Peter Jackson test’

This new and improved tweet will be sure to revive Twitter, and restore it to its former glory of thoughtful, provocative tweets.

I know what you’re thinking. No, I will not move to Hollywood and write movies. But you know what I will do? I will fart glitter all over a script written in the early sixties and make it into a blockbuster hit. Problem solved.

Bonus: I crap unicorns.