I’ve been aware of Elon Musk’s purchase and destruction of Twitter as it’s been going on the past few years.
I didn’t follow it with bated breath because while I enjoy Twitter, and I’ve had some fun interactions on it, I didn’t really care. And there wasn’t anything I could do about it anyway.
But yesterday I noticed that my iPhone replaced the Twitter icon and name with the asinine “X.”
I was so disgusted, I moved it to one of the rear menu screens so I didn’t have to look at it every time I used my phone.
Years ago there was a documentary about my filmmaker friend Jim Wynorski, Popatopolis. In one scene, he is on stage somewhere raging that he hates, hates, hates a certain actress.
He points out that if he says why he hates her, he could get in trouble. But saying that he hates her is protected by the first amendment.
I hate Elon Musk.
And this is sad, because I really don’t hate anybody.
Sad is a strong word, but the downfall of Twitter does feel like someone took a slightly used vehicle, still in good condition, and wrapped it around a telephone pole—just because he could.
Sad to hear that you feel that