Twitter illuminates the vapid, the vacuous, the empty. It’s a klieg light for the barren soul. All right, Mr. De Mille, I’m ready for my close-up. There was a time when thoughts were hidden in the locked diary. When folks actually bottled-up and buckled-down. Rational adults did anything to avoid looking self-absorbed, egocentric, narcissistic. And worse: weak. Needy. Pathetic. Out of control. Hopeless and hapless. Lugubrious, dramatic, over-the-top. Hysterical. Those were the days, my friend.
I Tweet, therefore I am.
Katherine Schwarzenegger, the self-absorbed latter day Theda Bara, the Letitia Baldridge of the pity party set, the drama queen daughter of disgraced Daddy-O Arnold (pick your favorite “-inator” suffix), has been Tweeting and Facebooking about every subject under the sun — specifically, as to how it affects her. I mean, what did you expect? The world revolves around her. The universe is Katherine-centric. And she made sure that each thought, observation and feeling was detailed and chronicled for her adoring fans. Every excruciatingly mind-numbing piece of Katherine arcana was memorialized. Until one day, she decided that she and her family needed privacy. So, did she just stop Tweeting? After all, when you stop Tweeting, you get the privacy you crave immediately. Of course not. She Tweeted how people were reading her Tweets and she Tweeted further that she needed privacy. I know it makes no sense. But see for yourself and enjoy.