This Is Twittering: Meta-Commentary Digest, Episode 49

Let’s twit.


My reasons are as follows:

Stabbing yourself in the eye is such an anti-natural thing to do. As humans we do everything we can to protect our eyes from danger. So, to purposely stab oneself in the eye, one needs to overcome the significant natural impulse to not stab oneself in the eye. Which is funny.

“Trouble in paradise”—by which I mean relationship problems—is an odd cliché, in that it’s already preloaded with irony. I may be reading into it based on my own prejudices, but I can’t imagine marriage (or whatever) was ever truly considered paradisiacal. Another cliché, “The honeymoon is over,” bears this out. That “paradise” feeling of marriage quickly gives way to the reality of living life together (which I don’t think is necessarily bad; it’s just hard). So over the years, as “trouble in paradise” has become clichéd and drained of most of its original meaning (including irony), I always interpret now as being stated ironically (in the sense that anyone saying it doesn’t really think it holds much meaning). So when someone says it as a meaningfulness-drained cliché, that is added to its original, intended irony, thus canceling out the stated irony, making it sincere instead. Which is pretty ironic. See?

“Nowadays” is dumb.


This isn’t just a joke. I sometimes feel like people forgive my social un-graces even when they could rightfully be annoyed by them. But I try to be a pretty decent person in general, so I interpret their forgiveness as an implied appreciation of my decency. But I’ve probably got that all wrong.


This is funny because it’s true.


See, because people who are attracted to you will always laugh at your jokes, even if they aren’t funny. I know I do.


No, it’s not.


This is funny!

You really want me to ruin it for you? OK, fine, it’s not delivery.


Honestly, this doesn’t mean anything. People might thing I meant something meaningful, but I really didn’t. I’d like to think Kafka would approve.


I’ve never punched anybody.


You guys want the inside scoop on this one? Of course you do—on some level, or you wouldn’t be reading this. Does that bother you? That you’re wasting your life?

Anyway, the inside scoop on this one is that my bed sheet was the one who said it, not my shirt. At different times I was eating both chocolate and peanut butter in bed and some percentage of those foods did not make it into my mouth (don’t be creepy). That’s the true story I was referencing. But I figured, given the constraints of the 140-character form, there would be too much ambiguity if I tried to convey the real situation. The underlying meaning remains the same: my inanimate cloth objects are always sassin’ me.


This one also has an inside poop—I mean scoop! (See how I did that?) I was buying toilet paper at the store and this thought occurred to me (without the “don’t mean to brag part”). Readers may have thought I was just being dumb (as I am wont to do), but in fact there were times during my youth when my family ran out of toilet paper and couldn’t afford to buy more until the next month. I then realized that I’ve always had an adequate toilet paper supply as an adult and a toot was born!

That concludes this conclusion.