Imagine if you were able to make a graph of self-serving bullshit over time from the beginning of the universe to now. It would begin slowly with relatively trace amounts of self-serving bullshit (SSB) for around 13.72 billion years. About 2.5 million years ago SSB would begin to gradually build as the genus homo came into being, and their early vocal and gestural communications would allow a limited but ever-growing amount of SSB to evolve. Around 250000 years ago - the Big Bang of human SSB - you would see a steep upward trajectory, as newly-created human consciousness and developed language allowed homo sapiens to boast, name drop, exaggerate, and self-aggrandise to other members of their social networks. Then finally, an almost vertical upward spike would appear with the advent of Twitter as the homo sapiens are gifted the ability to publish their most rabidly ego-crazed inner monologues to thousands of willing consumers.
We are living in an age of psychotic self-promotion. If you want to get ahead simply big yourself up for a few years in the hope it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Sadly, in many cases this actually works. The dubstep producer who updates Twitter every time he’s ‘goin studes’ and will not stop saying how ’sick’ his new music is; The club promoter with their endless stream of ‘ALL EARLY BIRD TICKETS GONE £18 ON THE DOOR GET DOWN EARLY’; The session musician who mentions every time he gets some free tat from a clothing label and who goes around basically implying that he’s the star of his particular act (this is quite a niche irritation but seriously this does my head in; reading this particular moron’s tweets propels my blood pressure to levels comparable to Maradona masturbating mid-coke binge.)
As with everything that provides a quick, easy hit of self-satisfaction, bragging about shit on Twitter is hugely addictive and your average attention-craver can find fertile ground for their ego harvest. As you see your number of followers rise your head swells with the feeling of having an easily quantifiable and, in your attention-craving mind, captive audience. 5,000 followers? That’s like having a constantly sold out Brixton Academy hanging onto every burble that comes out you word pipe. 15000? That’s like the O2 going crazy for your every pearl of bullshit about egg and cress sandwiches.
Twitter addiction was blamed for Jennifer Aniston and John Mayer’s break up (it’s 100% true because I read it in Grazia and Heat). Lily Allen’s admitted relationship problems stemming from over-tweeting. Soon every celeb from Nasty Nick to the ghost of Michael Jackson will be queuing up outside the Priory, thumbs twitching from hitting ‘Refresh’ every 8 seconds, absent-mindedly putting their oar in on whatever’s on TV, just because they think people care. They love it because it gives them what they’ve always craved; a voice, and thousands upon thousands of people to hear it and love them. It’s the perfect substitute for the doting, relaxed and normal parents they never had.
That said, following a person who is right in the eye of a full-scale Twitter melt-down is a real treat. I’m not talking about your common or garden variety name-drop fest, or casual my-life’s-so-great-and-easy details. I’m talking about the non-sequiturs! The paranoid setting-the-record-straight! The crazy appeals for lost allies to get in touch! It’s all there in 140 glorious characters. For example, Courtney Love has meaningless nonsense down to a T. If you will allow me to quote for a minute.
if you bring me my 98 to 04 invoices for all the transportation from la to white plains and then to all 67 counties in ny in 3 days on cls50
less than a minute ago via web
the faa keeps flight plans for 15 years, cls is now empire/cls the org owner a gangster in vegas, it may be as easy as simply callingbilling
less than a minute ago via web
maybe your phone manner beats mine, ( i just terrified ms nbc thats for sure) billing is in brooklyn and they had 6 accounts for me,1000s
less than a minute ago via web
of flights, just act like the irs or the lawyers or the investigator or the auditor or the fbi “agent” or the consumer or reporter you are
less than a minute ago via web
And so on, and so on… Is it a misdirected text to her accountant? Or has her brain capsized with an overdose of the cognitive opiate of having 150000 online disciples wanting to know its innermost ravings.
Soulja Boy had a classic one the other day. A real I’ve-been-riding-a-brittle-tsunami-of-popularity-and just-realised-it-still-hurts-when-people-slag-me-off moment. The poor lamb probably hasn’t stopped doing promo for 3 years and only just had time to google himself - the results weren’t that pleasing.
“Fuck having a Million followers fuck putting out music.. why? for yall to cry and bitch all the time. Put up new vidoes for what? fuck it.”
Wiley’s Twitter is among the best for entertainment. It’s generally written in a insistent tone, in which points are re-iterated and exaggerated ad nauseum. For instance, he can’t just say ‘the new Dipset tune is nang’. Instead he says it 40 or 50 times in different ways before starting an argument with Megaman about it and finally saying ‘I AM A FUCKING MUSICAL GOD’. Wiley’s obviously a born communicator, but the possibilities of Twitter have blown his cheesebox. He seems to feel he will be forgotten about if he stops tweeting and reminding people what a pioneer he was back in 2003. Again, the audience now comes to him, he doesn’t even have to get on radio to get noticed. Just chat some nonsense in 140 characters or less and watches as the hysterical reactions fly in.
Sadly this subject interests me because I, your humble correspondent, have looked down the barrel of a heavy Twitter addiction. I know what its like to feverishly check for re-tweets after writing something you think worthy of huge praise and attention (which, on reflection is a sub-par attempt at pith about some TV show that everyone else on your feed is watching). I’ve watched my following numbers like a crack head studying his carpet for rocks. And the saddest thing is, I can find no cure. So follow me at twitter.com/jackbsavidge and add more fuel to my sad little online existence.
ILLUSTRATIONS - Dan Murtha
SIMULTANEOUSLY POSTED ON STREET CARNAGE.
