Think how painful it must have been for anti-vax activists Alex Berenson and Robert Malone to be removed from Twitter. It happened that they were grifters. But if Twitter died, that would be a disaster anywhere. Hundreds of thousands of people’s jobs are now managed primarily on Twitter. Many students have built an entirely popular audience on Twitter, and enriched their professional networks. Communication between young tenured professors and postdocs there has been important.
I think some people are embarrassed to admit what Twitter has meant to them. “[I] would rather pay $100 a month to keep Twitter alive,” comedian with 34,000 followers recently tweeted. The number against him was merciless. It’s not cool to say you care about Twitter. Users criticized the comedian as a lame, sucking, elitist ass: “Wow so $100 is cheap?” “I’d pay $100 to kill Twitter instead.”
But I have noticed that politicians and academics have started asking their followers not to leave the program. They usually classify these complaints as complaints for some great good or region. And yet they are often figures who have thousands of readers no can influence without Twitter. And, because every request to not lose followers comes with shame, their pleas are often ignored. But many are just pleading for a living, and we must listen.
Real development that which became essential to our world is trembling. A lot of great reports on what’s happening on Twitter have been revealed on Twitter, citizen journalists and program staff as well media analysts; we are slowly sinking into the darkness. The “Trending” section of Twitter, even recently, was useful. The other day, Twitter told me that my favorite brand where I live, in South Africa, was Tylenol, a brand that isn’t even sold here. After wondering what was going on in Athens and finding myself there via VPN, I received the unpleasant news that Dan Quayle was visiting the Parthenon.
In Rome, Mike Pompeo was a fan. I think it’s because his last name is Italian and there are no real ideas on Twitter to change what’s going on, it just grabs the fuel like tweets and ignites random fires, like a power line down in hellscape. throwing glitter on the big fat left behind by Elon Musk’s 30-ton van.
I remember learning about the Roman Colosseum in elementary school. It was built on the highest point in Rome, for plays, historical events, arenas, and funerals. The elite ran the demonstration in a sense, but 95 percent of those who went there were ordinary people—women, the poor, foreigners. As Rome grew more prosperous and decadent, the Colosseum became a place of extreme cruelty, where exotic animals tore criminals apart for entertainment. I remember hearing that the Colosseum was abandoned after the fall of Rome in 410 AD.
I recently learned that this is not true. The Colosseum was never abandoned. More than 100 years later, long after the Visigoths had ravaged Rome, hunting was still practiced there, although on a smaller scale, with deer instead of tigers.
While the central organization is being destroyed, traders have clashed with the forums to attract people to go to the side while the artisans are setting up ad hoc shops, as Twitter users are now directing their followers to their accounts on other platforms and “top business professors” are. enter in the comments to show their crypto systems. Twitter users now think of their last, unedited tweet as a moment in history: “Like, when I blurt out something thirsty about the ghost of Paul Newman…the page crashes forever.” But it is possible that Twitter will be rocked for a long time, as they did the Colosseum, and we will never know if we are participating in the last glorious and exciting stage. I think the prospect of a quick death for Twitter – in weeks or months – is working, right now, as a fantasy. It is fiction that absolves the reader of the need to adjudicate for themselves the fact that it is really dangerous or worthless.
