I have not been doing my research on “tweets” for very long, but I must say that I have been richly rewarded thus far with amazing examples, each enriched with a depth of thought that far outweighs the simplicity belied by its minimal nature. Certainly simple “tweeters” exist, emitting stories that are nothing more than they purport to be:
- My cat keeps trying to jump on the fridge. It’s really cute.
- Baking cookies, yum yum yum OM NOM NOM yum yum NOM yum
- My cat totally missed the fridge! LOL FAIL
- EATIN SUM CHIPS AS USALLY
- Guys, my cat’s not moving. Hey, is that blood?
There is nothing wrong with “tweets” like these, nor with the “tweeters” who invent, manufacture and distribute them. And I admit that when the idea of Twitter first graced my hearing aids I was convinced that this would be all I found here.
I find myself being forced to admit that this particular “tweet” did not at first glace appear to contain anything worth discussing in my research. But there was… something… about it. Something that made me return to it again and again today, my breath quickened at each return. I knew there must be something there.
Was it coincidence that this “tweet” was conceived on the day on which Americans’ income taxes are due? No, it could not have been.
I posit that Mr. Lisagor is a lapsing Objectivist who feels lost in the contemporary sociopoleconomic upheaval. Because what can “your own moisture” be but the sweat of your brow, created by the hard work that creative, industrious men like Mr. Lisagor do every day?1 As they stand in long lines at the post office, wincing with each belabored step, pretending not to be offended by the Socialist stench of government “enterprise” (that rises above the noble aroma of the late-filer), the Objectivist knows the fruits of his labor are being syphoned away to buy crackpipes for homeless immigrants.2
But the author is confused and troubled. “Does it count?” he asks. The author wonders if, in a world of creeping neo-neo-socialism born from the ashes of an economic disaster brought on by circa laissez-faire policies and “selfish virtue,” is there any place left for an Objectivist? On a day when a clarion paean to Reason would resonate most obviously, the author steps back and doubts himself.
On the one hand, did our policies go too far in allowing financial institutions to pillage the economy, like a fat person animatedly dancing too close to the edge of the stage? Or, on the other hand, did we not go far enough? Isn’t it possible that that fat person, stumbling over the edge of the stage in a jitterbuggian rapture-seizure, might grow beautiful faerie wings and fly away? Isn’t it??
Also, did you notice that “lonelysandwich” is an anagram for Halcyon Swindle? Well, I totally did.3 Whether the Halcyon Swindle refers to the election of President Obama or the ultimate death pangs of the Objectivist movement is irrelevant.
1 And Mr. Lisagor is indeed a capitalist, having recently released an iPhone application for Twitter called “Birdhouse”4 that I have found incredibly useful for my research. But still, seeing that his application has been well-received just before the day on which he is reminded how little of his hard work’s reward will flow into his pockets? An Objectivist would emit real tears—tears that he would then capture in a non-recyclable bottle to be resold on eBay.
2 See Ayn Rand’s poem “A Crackpipe Steals Away The Very Breath Of The Stoic American Inventor God” from her rare book of poems A Poem Is A Poem.
3 Checkmate, bitches!
4 Mr. Lisagor’s “Birdhouse” partner Mr. Hunt was extraordinarily helpful in identifying and remedying a flaw in this website’s stylesheet and for that I am quite grateful.