editorialgirl

I’m the sort of person who can’t leave my desk for a minute without having to check every email account on my return, just in case I’ve missed something vital. When I go away I worry about how many Yahoo Group posts I’ll have to read on my return, or how many hits my photos will have had on flickr. Sometimes I realise I’ve spent whole hours with three or four windows open on different messageboards, just hitting F5 like a chimp.

So as you might imagine, Twitter scares the life out of me.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about – and if you’ve spent any time on the internet recently, I don’t know how you’ve missed it – Twitter allows you to post little messages to the world, telling everyone what you’re up to, right now. Yup, it’s all there; “I’m watching TV”, “installing Visual Studio”, “in a science class”, “wondering whether to shave my legs”, “I’m checking out Twitter” … well, you get the idea. It’s not quite instant messaging, it’s not quite mini-blogging; it’s snippets of user-created content with no point at all. It’s just more information that we don’t need, floating about saying “read me”. And like most people, I can’t help but read it.

I haven’t actually subscribed, though. I’m not, like, a Twitterholic or anything. To be honest, up until yesterday, I hadn’t even been tempted. But yesterday, I saw Twitter in a whole new light. Someone’s put Twitter onto Google Maps and created a monster. Purdy, ain’t it? And if regular users start taking hold of their own identities, perhaps talking to each other on there (you can already see this happening a little, with some users directing their messages to other specific users, using the @ symbol) – it could become very addictive indeed.

One of my favourite blogs, Creating Passionate Users has summed Twitter up very nicely with a post entitled Is Twitter TOO Good? … and, of course, one of their ever-brilliant graphs.

Some councillors work tirelessly making YouTube videos about cottaging. (Martin, we salute you, and your use of “Latin phrases”, although I couldn’t spot any Latin in your film. Were you referring to the word “prophylactic”? Because I think that’s Greek.)

Some councillors have much better things to do. Let me explain.

In an article for the Birmingham Post, Terry Grimley pretty much sums up my feelings about the Moseley Ent, calling it a “crude … piece of kitsch junk”. Go, Terry. He really piqued my interest, though, with this:

“To add a touch of farce to a story which is already grotesque, the secretary of the Moseley Society attempted, unsuccessfully, to have one member of the planning committee excluded on the grounds that his fondness for dressing up as Gandalf might imply he was not entirely impartial.”

Eh? I was unable to imagine how this might have happened in a formal meeting, until I read the minutes:

Councillor E Hendricks indicated that he had spoken publicly about the application and he withdrew from the meeting.

Following a comment made from the public gallery, Councillor P Douglas Osborn indicated that he had played a character from the Lord of the Rings at an event in Edgbaston. The Councillor stressed that he felt that that was a different matter and had no bearing on the application before the Committee. Mr Evans, Legal and Democratic Services Department, confirmed that it was in order for the Councillor to remain in the meeting.

Funny.
No, wait. Scary.

I opened my Yahoo Mail spam folder today, for the first time. The subject lines read as follows:

Go a potatoes
With be chunky
His populism by sadist
A successive a renal
Of redhead be cause
Condiment
Her my triton
His watchdog to cantilever
In magician no fenugreek
Be the countdown

Maybe I should submit it to the National Poetry Competition. I used to go out with a poet (yeah, a proper one, not some angsty teenager – this one was published and everything) and I’m sure this makes just as much sense as one of his pieces.

Some of my favourites are the ones which teach me new words.

“Have vicious my crowberry“
Ever heard of a crowberry? I hadn’t. Whether they are vicious or not would depend on whether you ate too many, I suppose.

“He puddingstone in catchword“
Puddingstone is a type of rock which looks a bit like Christmas pudding. Who knew? It is quite a catchy word though, I’ll give them that.

“That pooh go Rutgers”
Rutgers is a university in New Jersey. Well well well. Do poohs go there? We may never know.