To tweet or not to tweet – that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the cloud to suffer
The slings and arrows of experts and entrepreneurs
Or to ignore a sea of DMs
And by opposing them, lose followers. To lie, to tweet
No more – and by not tweeting to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural lamers
That Twitter is heir to – ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To bore, to sleep
To sleep, perchance to dream-tweet. Ay, there’s the tweet,
For in that tiring tweet what dreams may come,
When we have fallen deep from boredom’s coil,
Must give us pause. There’s the dissing
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of experts,
Th’ opressor’s thong, the jerkwad’s contumely.
The pangs of disprized lists, the mentions we made,
The insolence of spammers, and dweebs
That patient merit of th’ wanker takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To tweet and retweet under a social media storm,
But the dread of something after Facebook,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveler returns, puzzles the SEO experts
And makes us bear those bastards who unfollow
Than fly to the DIGG that we know not of?
Thus social media does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue irresolution
is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of crank tweets,
And enterprises of great scams and moment
With this regard their snake-oil turn awry,
And lose the name of Meme. – Soft you now!
The fair porn queen, in thy U-Tube-tops
Be all my tweets remembered.
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