If I had the slightest shred of cool to squander (and thought doodaddery was in fact cool), I would tremble at the daunting notion of making the following utterance. Since I’m militantly uncool and effortlessly contrarian, I’ll probably get through it somehow.

I am utterly dumbfounded by Twitter.

So. With Twitter you…tell people what you’re doing, via phone or computer, and then it publishes it, in, like one sentence pronouncements? Am I missing something? And then you can…publish a feed to this gold? And put it on your blog? And subscribe to [had to stop to laugh, honestly] other peoples’?

Holy crap.

Marshall tried to tell me it was Good. Of course, he was high again, from yet another day spent sprawled on a piece of soiled cardboard under the Burnside Bridge huffing gas off a rag.

I should say, I like Evan. I used Blogger and Odeo (one more than the other). I thought his buyback of Odeo was innovative and sensible and I especially appreciated his support of Blogswana. But that notwithstanding, and Zeitgeist or keiner Zeitgeist, I get the same feeling looking at Twitter as I do when I see people nodding thoughtfully at performance art, a narcotic combination of derangement of the senses and emperor’s new clothes.

So, with all due respect, what the fuck?