Twitter: Real Time For The Real Lame

SAN DIEGO (TNA) – The Twitter era at The Naughty American lasted less than two hours, which is an hour and fifty-five minutes longer than it should have lasted.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with Twitter, it’s the single-most hyped, overrated, piece-of-crap product since the Topsy Tail. (visit the Twitter web site if you must.)

Twitter is a service that allows you to post short messages on the internet in real time. You can then push the messages, or “tweets,” to other twitterers who subscribe to your feed, or put a module displaying the messages on your web site.

And that’s … about … it.

So now you can let the world know what you’re doing or thinking at any time, provided you’re near a computer or cell phone. But don’t think too much, because messages are limited to 140 characters.

As a result, most messages are simple, along the lines of “Just chillin’,” or “Watching ‘Lost’” – you know, information that you feel your subscribers have to have.

We’re open to new technology here at The Naughty American. We tried out the Vortex, a vacuum cleaner attachment that women use to masturbate. We tried “Blow,” an energy powder. Hell, we even took the Fleshjack for a test drive.

So we put the Twitter module on our site.

And we looked at it.

And we looked at it some more. Then, we posted two insipid updates and folded our hands in our lap. We stared at the module and blinked, and waited.

Then we realized that our lives just aren’t that interesting on a minute-to-minute basis. We took the module off our home page and went back to hanging out with porn stars in Southern California.

After two hours in the Twitter family, let me ask, who the hell is Twitter intended for? Tell me, because I don’t know. Well, actually, I have a pretty good idea. It’s for dorks. Serious dorks.

And people with Attention Deficit Disorder or those who start and abandon 15 activities in an hour:

12:02: “Making a papier mache volcano!”

12:07: “Arguing with Steve :(”

12:11: “Am I too fat? I’ve just started a diet.”

12:23: “Diet over! Eating fudge. Yay.”

Twitter, I suppose, would also be useful for people who find themselves in a firefight:

2:32: “Heavy incoming fire. SHIT!”

2:47: “Repulsed first wave. Cigarette.”

2:54: “Mortar rounds falling all around us!!!”

2:58: “Lost commander. Suuuuucks.”

2:59: “Chow time!”

OK, seriously, Twitter might be useful in the military or intelligence community. But the lingo has to go. “Twitter”? “Tweets”? Can you imagine front-line troops using the service?

“Sir, we haven’t received a tweet from Charlie company in the last two hours.”

“Goddamn it, corporal! Start Twittering. Find out where they are!”

At TNA, we heard of one woman who twittered during sex. After riffing for five minutes about “twats,” the“twitteris,” and “twitter in the shitter,” we came to the conclusion that Twitter has no place in the boudoir. If you’re Twittering during sex, you’ve hit the triumvirate of pitifulness: you’re a dork, you have ADD, and you’re having some awful sex.

Twitter has potential, but then again so did the McDLT, New Coke, and Ryan Leaf. So, unless you’ve got ADD, come under fire, or don’t come at all, stay away from the program.

Otherwise, you’re just a twit.