A Post to Move the Giant Embeded Youtube Videos Down the Page
To those who use Twitter in this circle, you may have fallen victim to my most recent butthurt: twitterbots. For those of you who are unfamiliar with these assholes, let me make a parallel.
Did any of you play A Boy and His Blob? This was a delightful puzzle game for the NES. Basically, you fed a blob jelly beans and in return the blob would morph into an object. What nouns did the Blob turn into? Ladders, trampolines, staircases, and a key. Unfortunately, you had a finite bag of jelly beans. This meant that if you were just seeing what the Blob would turn into, you could and would not be able to finish the game.
What does this have to do with Twitter? Well now, let me connect dots. Just today, I mentioned on my Twitter that it was Sunburned Picture month. A lot of Iowans don't understand that if you go out in the sun, you need to apply sun screen to your body AND your face. The people I'm "friends" with don't understand this and get their pictures taken. I also blame most of their blunders on this fact or that they don't have proper camera lighting abilities or a proper photo manipulation software to unred their boner. So, I mention this fact on Twitter. . . and then I get a new follower. A small business owner of sun tan lotion. Fucking sun tan lotion...on Twitter! Thank you, Internet!
Another example of such retardedness involved the end of football season. I hate college football fans, not only for their sheep-like behavior but also because they are unoriginal fucktards. Let's dress up like sports-team fans for Halloween! Vanity plates of the local college team! >9000 shops in one city selling merchandise! I bitch about this sort of merchandise and small business. Sure enough, some socket-fucking socket fucker follows me on Twitter. This particular imbecile was running a screen printing company, probably out of his garage, that -SHOCK AND AWE- sold custom Hawkeyes merchandise. He had three tweets of rotating messages advertising his business.
I wonder in both these cases if these "bots" actually read what I was tweeting about. When I worked at Commotion, the graphic design and corporate identity company, our boss wanted us to do the same. He wanted us to make a Facebook account for the companies, add ourselves, then get all our friends to add the company and spread the love. This is an internet pyramid scheme, it turns out. It didn't matter that we didn't have kids or most of our friends were without child at the moment, but goddamnit, we were going to have grade school supplies and advertise it for fucking free. This kind of marketing angers me. It is the equivalent of spam emails. You don't really read them after the subject; you just delete them and forget them. But still, there is a whole nation of get-rich-quick-because-we-failed-college rail humpers out there who are trying to not be poor and they think it's the internet 1998 and the bubble has yet to burst or be a bubble.
I failed to mention the connection to A Boy and His Blob and Twitterbots. Feed the Twitter feed a random noun, and the blob of bots will add you and think you are going to get to the treasure chest with their product that is two fucking pixels taller than your jumping ability (their target audience)'s reach. I'm done.
Did any of you play A Boy and His Blob? This was a delightful puzzle game for the NES. Basically, you fed a blob jelly beans and in return the blob would morph into an object. What nouns did the Blob turn into? Ladders, trampolines, staircases, and a key. Unfortunately, you had a finite bag of jelly beans. This meant that if you were just seeing what the Blob would turn into, you could and would not be able to finish the game.
What does this have to do with Twitter? Well now, let me connect dots. Just today, I mentioned on my Twitter that it was Sunburned Picture month. A lot of Iowans don't understand that if you go out in the sun, you need to apply sun screen to your body AND your face. The people I'm "friends" with don't understand this and get their pictures taken. I also blame most of their blunders on this fact or that they don't have proper camera lighting abilities or a proper photo manipulation software to unred their boner. So, I mention this fact on Twitter. . . and then I get a new follower. A small business owner of sun tan lotion. Fucking sun tan lotion...on Twitter! Thank you, Internet!
Another example of such retardedness involved the end of football season. I hate college football fans, not only for their sheep-like behavior but also because they are unoriginal fucktards. Let's dress up like sports-team fans for Halloween! Vanity plates of the local college team! >9000 shops in one city selling merchandise! I bitch about this sort of merchandise and small business. Sure enough, some socket-fucking socket fucker follows me on Twitter. This particular imbecile was running a screen printing company, probably out of his garage, that -SHOCK AND AWE- sold custom Hawkeyes merchandise. He had three tweets of rotating messages advertising his business.
I wonder in both these cases if these "bots" actually read what I was tweeting about. When I worked at Commotion, the graphic design and corporate identity company, our boss wanted us to do the same. He wanted us to make a Facebook account for the companies, add ourselves, then get all our friends to add the company and spread the love. This is an internet pyramid scheme, it turns out. It didn't matter that we didn't have kids or most of our friends were without child at the moment, but goddamnit, we were going to have grade school supplies and advertise it for fucking free. This kind of marketing angers me. It is the equivalent of spam emails. You don't really read them after the subject; you just delete them and forget them. But still, there is a whole nation of get-rich-quick-because-we-failed-college rail humpers out there who are trying to not be poor and they think it's the internet 1998 and the bubble has yet to burst or be a bubble.
I failed to mention the connection to A Boy and His Blob and Twitterbots. Feed the Twitter feed a random noun, and the blob of bots will add you and think you are going to get to the treasure chest with their product that is two fucking pixels taller than your jumping ability (their target audience)'s reach. I'm done.
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