So, my alter ego says, hey Mister Anchovy, I’ve got some news for you, and I says yeah, what’s that, and he says, look, I just want to tell you I’ve opened a Twitter account. I says, what are you messing with that junk for, after all I’ve done for you? He says he isn’t trying to muscle in on my territory or anything untoward like that. He claims it has something to do with his job, as if I’m going to believe that line of jive.
I know what’s going on here. He’s trying to phase me out, isn’t he? I know his tricks. Believe me, friends, it won’t be easy. I’m no pushover. Just because he created me doesn’t mean he can boss me around. I’ve got a life of my own, and I happen to like it over here at WordPress. So, I say, forget that Twitter nonsense. Just don’t go there. Stick with me, here at 27th Street. We’ve got it good on our little island in the sun. Hey, let me pour you a wee dram of Scotch. How would that be? We don’t need that newfangled fancy-pants social media. Old school blogging, now that’s where it’s at.
Anyway, we got in a big old argument about it. We’re not exactly on speaking terms. He’s going to have to apologize and that’s all there is to it. Doesn’t he understand the separation of church and state? Hasn’t he seen the relationship George/independent George Seinfeld episode?
Here’s what we’re going to do. Boycott whatshisname’s Twitter account. Just don’t go there. You can do it. I know you can. Show a little support, OK? I’m counting on you.