I’m Happy Just to Tweet with You

So, a few months back, I spent an unhealthy number of hours coming up with fake Beatles facts on my Twitter account. It seemed like a fun idea at the time. Then this morning, I noticed that Bill Corbett was now doing it, too, this time using the more sensible — albeit longer — hashtagfakebeatlesfacts.” And so I had to get back on that horse. Here are the “facts” I came up with:

Sgt. Pepper was tragically killed in a training exercise in Vietnam, later portrayed in the film Full Metal Jacket.

Lennon and McCartney wrote “I’ve Got a Feeling” when both of them, ironically, were suffering from Bell’s palsy.

Jai guru deva om is actually Sanskrit for “Klaatu barada nikto.”

Their appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show in ’64 led to Ringo’s scandalous on-again off-again romance with Topo Gigio.

The title of “Fifth Beatle” truly belongs to Ringo 2.0, successfully cloned from a skin cell in 1963.

The group was nicknamed the Fab Four after cosmic radiation transformed them into crime-fighting superheroes.

However, only Ringo was asked to join the Avengers, leading to animosity and Paul’s notorious fisticuffs with Thor.

Renewed interest in Julia Child has revealed her “glass onion” recipe, and that she introduced the Beatles to pot.

Originally titled “Revolution 9 from Outer Space,” the song was shortened when Paul was replaced by Ringo’s chiropractor.

Although the Beatles did not play at Woodstock, John Lennon sat in briefly, under his well known pseudonym Joan Baez.

The Maharishi Yogi soon tired of Ringo’s constant “pic-a-nic basket” jokes.

McCartney conducted extensive research for “The Long and Winding Road,” most of which would later be adopted by MapQuest.

Martha My Dear was written in tribute to Martha Reeves, with whom Ringo had toured with as one of the Vandellas.

Their stay in Hamburg was spent touring the city with a young David Hasselhoff, who even then was big in Germany.

Incidentally, I’m never sure if this makes Twitter seem more or less appealing to the uninitiated, to know that people — well, okay, people like me — use it much more for silliness like this than for telling others what we had for lunch. (A beet salad from ‘wichcraft — and you read it here first!)

I never quite know how to defend Twitter except to say — all those complaints raised about it? All that confusion about who could ever find a use for a such a thing? That used to be me, until I saw the day-to-day reality of how it’s used. Now, I just think Noel Murray sums it up pretty well:

This is a common critique of Twitter: “I don’t need to know what a bunch of strangers had for lunch.” And yet that’s so far removed from the way I use the service that I’m unsure where to begin refuting it. Personally, I only follow a small group of people on Twitter, and I have a limited circle of friends of Facebook. Most of these are people I know—or at least know of. We’re talking to each other about things we’re presumably all interested in; we’re sharing quick thoughts on movies, TV, kids, and the petty annoyances and subtle joys of a passing day. The other day one of my Twitter-followers—someone I don’t follow, I hasten to note—complained that he didn’t like me having a six-or-seven-Tweet exchange with a friend and thereby “cluttering up his feed.” And all I could think was, “Dude, following me is not compulsory.” I think that’s what critics of Twitter often fail to understand. Though some may use Twitter and Facebook as one big “look at me,” the majority are just trying to stay connected with friends, old and new.

As always, you can follow me — with or without a Twitter account of your own — here.

Thursday various

  • My sister is getting married in a couple of months — a little less than, actually — and I don’t think she’s taking her fiancé Brian’s last name. Apparently, however, 50% of Americans think she should be legally required to do so. I’m curious as to what these people think the legal repercussions for not taking your husband’s name should be. Thirty years hard labor? My future wife needn’t worry. I ask only a dowry of ten cows and three oxen from her village patriarch. Anyway, as I noted yesterday, my last name is frequently misspelled and -pronounced. [via]
  • N. K. Jemisin on describing characters of color:

    Because so much of fantasy takes place in settings that in no way resemble the real world, featuring species that in no way resemble human, fantasy writers often have trouble dealing with regular people. This is something that, I think, isn’t as much of a problem for mainstream writers, because they can simply describe the world around them and come up with a reasonably accurate representation of humanity. They can also fall back on the plethora of real-world terms used to describe human beings, racially and otherwise. But using these terms makes no sense if you’re dealing with a world that doesn’t share our political/cultural context. You can’t call someone “African American” if your world has no Africa, no America, and has never gone through a colonial phase in which people of disparate cultures were forcibly brought together, thus necessitating the term in the first place.

  • Got $8,000? Why not buy your own Personal Satellite Kit? [via]
  • On the other hand, if you have eight million dollars, maybe you want to bid on your very own rare T-Rex skeleton. (Maybe you could get an Ankylosaurus skeleton and make them fight.)
  • And finally, if you’re going to complain about your job on Facebook, at the very least make sure your boss isn’t one of your friends. [via]

Wednesday various

  • Jack of all trades, master of none? The people who multitask the most are the ones who are worst at it. I’d post some further thoughts on this, but I’ve got about fifteen dozen other things I need to do right now.
  • Zack Handlen looks for meaning in the films of Michael Bay. An unenviable task, to be sure:

    [Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen] is, by any sensible measurement, a lousy piece of work. But it has a personality behind it. That personality is childish, shallow, and has some definite issues with women, but every time Bay frames up those giants staring to the heavens, I don’t have a doubt in my mind that the son of a bitch means it. I sort of wish I could mean it too. Because sometimes the shit gets real, and that’s when winners have to fuck the prom queen, since fate rarely calls on us on a moment of our choosing to stop a giant asteroid from killing everyone we love.

  • Jonesing for some poetry? Swindle is “an automated daily aggregator of contemporary poetry,” pulling in poems from literary journals, magazines, and other RSS feeds. Its creator describes it (at Bookslut) as “a little like Google News, if Google News had been built by a virtually unpublished poet using a second-string web server and a three-year-old book about web programming.”
  • Then there’s The Longest Poem in the World, which, at about 4,000 verses a day, “aggregat[es] real-time public twitter updates and select[s] those that rhyme.” It’s an intriguing project, although any resemblance to good poetry is probably accidental. (There’s something reminiscent of flarf about these “verses.” I wonder if any of my tweets have ever turned up there. [via]

  • Meanwhile, on a somewhat related note, A Brief History of Appropriative Writing. This was interesting, more so than I expected actually, though I still have issues with appropriation without attribution or at least passing acknowledgment. Artists borrow or steal all the time — that’s the nature of art — but it’s good form, if nothing else, to acknowledge the debt where it exists. [via]
  • And finally, while I wouldn’t necessarily mind seeing Jack Harkness on Doctor Who again — and I think the ending of Children of Earth definitely made that a workable possibility — I definitely don’t want to see the two shows combined. Doctor Who can go into dark places — by its nature, there’s few places it can’t go — but it’s still at it’s heart a smart adventure show and at least partly aimed at kids. Torchwood, on the other hand, is best when it’s at its darkest…even it it’s at its worst when it’s just being dark (read: sexualized and “adult”) for its own sake. I don’t want the Doctor to be Torchwood‘s comic relief, any more than I want Captain Jack to be a dose of dreariness in Doctor Who. John Barrowman fits well into both worlds, but I’m not convinced the two worlds would fit well inside each other.

Sobering thoughts

Roger Ebert writes eloquently about his struggles with alcoholism and the long road to recovery through AA:

You may be wondering, in fact, why I’m violating the A.A. policy of anonymity and outing myself. A.A. is anonymous not because of shame but because of prudence; people who go public with their newly-found sobriety have an alarming tendency to relapse. Case studies: those pathetic celebrities who check into rehab and hold a press conference.

In my case, I haven’t taken a drink for 30 years, and this is God’s truth: Since the first A.A. meeting I attended, I have never wanted to. Since surgery in July of 2006 I have literally not been able to drink at all. Unless I go insane and start pouring booze into my g-tube, I believe I’m reasonably safe. So consider this blog entry what A.A. calls a “12th step,” which means sharing the program with others. There’s a chance somebody will read this and take the steps toward sobriety.

I hope so.