I still get my news the old-fashioned way — worked out backwards from satires of actual current events in “The Onion” — but one of my friends swears by a younger and more adorably named medium.
“I saw this really cool news story on Twitter,” he once said, with a sense of self-importance that was impressive considering he was saying a silly made up word. I didn’t really think that was how Twitter worked.
“I thought Twitter was for sharing sort of boring but really detailed facts and observations about your minute-to-minute life,” I said.
“Absolutely not,” he vehemently corrected/shouted. “It is for interesting and noteworthy links and those only.”
I am a pinko commie pacifist, so I didn’t press the issue, but I know that Twitter’s true purpose is to provide a place for fun little tweets like “baking cupcakes and watching heathers! #teengirlalert LOL!” or “oh man tigermilk is def the greatest album ever, am i right @susanaduu???” Those are the kinds of things you’ll find on twitter.com/nell_s_klugman (nellklugman was taken), if and when I decide the world is ready. Whatever: don’t look out, world. I am not getting a Twitter. I am 20 years old and set in my ways. Twitter is for the young.
It is bizarre but true that after I officially exited my teen years about a month ago, I haven’t been having any quarter-life crises or moments of deep introspection; I’m often just grouchy in a way that begs for an old-man cardigan and the catchphrase “meddling kids.” It killed me, in the previous paragraph, to capitalize “Twitter;” it is a stupid word that doesn’t deserve that kind of respect from me. I pretty much only wear slightly different shades of flannel, because I am lazy and because looking attractive is for the young and frivolous and dateable. And most of all, I can’t stand Justin Bieber.
I get liking music ironically and also liking music because it is catchy. I’m no snob. Sure! I will dance to “Tik Tok” at a party, even if the 80-year-old in me (a) wants to sit Ke$ha down and give her a talking to about morals and what letters are (hint: not $) and (b) would sort of rather be home watching “The Twilight Zone” than at said party. I’m familiar with and fond of, Khia’s entire oeuvre (do not Google Khia, Mom). Whatever! But I cannot like, condone, or support Justin Bieber. I hate him with all the vitriol my arthritic and gnarled old heart can muster. Actually, I don’t think a heart can have arthritis, but I’m not sure. I’m in “History of Life.”
Justin Bieber is so little! He’s a baby! Now, I like most babies. I am a baby fan, you might say. In Psych 110, when my professor started showing slides of how babies develop learning patterns or some crap like that, I was reduced to helpless mush and could only clutch my friend’s arm and moan “Braaaandon, I want a baby soooooo baaaaad” for the rest of the class. But I want a small, helpless, bald baby that can’t talk and is still in Piaget’s Preoperational Stage. I don’t want a baby with the helmet-like coif of a soccer mom, the lip-glossed grin of a 13-year-old at the big dance and THE LYRICS OF JUSTIN BIEBER COMING FROM ITS LITTLE BABY MOUTH.
Oh what lyrics. “My first love broke my heart for the first time.” No. No, she didn’t, Justin Bieber, you were born a day ago, your little infant heart is barely formed, let alone broken. “And I was like, ‘baby, baby, baby, oh,’ like ‘baby, baby, baby, no!’” Dear Justin: Words! Sometimes you can repeat them for emphasis, but don’t do it too much! That was just a little worldly advice from a grandmotherly figure. Also: “So baby no, fo’ sho,’ I’ll never let you go.” I see no need to comment on this, except to note Justin’s disturbing insistence on saying things like “fo’ sho’” and “shawty” (no! Justin! You and I tie for whitest person in the world!) and on calling his preteen “girlfriend” baby. Maybe he realizes the age group he should actually be going for.
Look, I am not saying that Justin Bieber cannot sing. He has a nice voice, but it is the voice of a husky-throated 40-year-old woman (although it must be said that my editor disagrees with me and finds his crooning R&B stylings totally age-appropriate). And I am not saying that his music is objectively that bad, it is just hard to stomach coming from a little leprechaun baby who thinks that he is having real relationships and meaningful interactions with people. Just like I am not saying that Twitter is not well-intentioned or occasionally useful. It is a very cleanly-laid-out Web site and I like the little bird, but, as it is often used, it is a silly Web site.
Jeez, that was really charitable of me. Maybe I’m mellowing in my old age. @octogenarians4ever #senility.