Maybe you heard it on Facebook.
I got a Twitter.
I know, okay? I know. I used to say that I’d never get a Twitter, and even when I sort of entertained the option, I wasn’t being serious. But it’s not my fault. You know whose fault it is?
Who is not an altogether terrible reason to join Twitter, actually. Joining for Roger Ebert is certainly better than joining for Lindsay Lohan or Courtney Love. Well. Maybe. Courtney Love’s Twitter is fucking insane, so if I ever decide to go on a crack-and-Qualuudes binge, I guess I’ll need company.
If you’re on Twitter and you’re not following Roger Ebert, you’re an idiot. If you’re not on Twitter and think you might be entertained by an elderly guy who has lost the ability to speak and so has adapted spectacularly to social media, sign up and follow Roger Ebert. He is all over the place and so right on. Not just about movies, either, which he surprisingly writes little about.
Case in point:
10 hours ago: “”All we have to do when reading Bleak House is to relax and let our spines take over. Let us worship the spine and its tingle.”-Nabokov”
Yesterday @ 3:33pm: “Is the music in a restaurant chosen, and set at a volume, to please the customers, or the waitstaff?”
Yesterday @ 1:43pm: “Devastated. In the last 12 months, my site had only one visitor from Antarctica.”
Interestingly, he has not written about Blanche Devereaux now sluttin’ it up in Heaven, but I suppose he’s above imagining Dorothy Zbornak setting out the plates for some Welcome Home cheesecake.
I don’t have cheesecake. All I’ve got are baby carrots. But Annie’s Goddess Dressing is really the tits.