The Befouled Weakly News
15 March 2009 Last Sunday’s gloriously glorious sunny morning which I wrote about turned into a miserably foul day so first impressions can definitely be deceptive. By lunchtime, as we exited the gym, the rain had started (much to the disappointment of those who were participating in the Banbury 15 mile race) and by the time it came to walk Molly, we had experienced snow, sleet and hail all accompanied by a howling gale. Ugh!
So, the question I have been pondering this week: what is the point of Twitter? To many of you (indeed, to perhaps most of you) this will mean nothing at all but for those of you who know what I am talking about I would be interested in your feedback. In a nutshell, Twitter is another of these social networking sites where the objective is to communicate with family, friends, colleagues, etc., with short, sharp “tweets” each of which has a limit of 140 characters. The Twitter site describes its purpose thus: “Twitter is a service for friends, family, and co–workers to communicate and stay connected through the exchange of quick, frequent answers to one simple question: What are you doing?” Now, most of the time what I am doing is “Sitting, watching television” or “Sitting at the computer doing some work” or equally mundane and tedious tasks. In other words, not much to excite or interest anyone. Maybe that’s the point – to make most of us appreciate how banal and insignificant our lives are. However, there do seem to be people who “tweet” regularly and frequently, some of whom can be moderately amusing (Stephen Fry, for example); most of whom, however, are essentially uninteresting. Apart from its apparent uselessness, the other somewhat disconcerting aspect of Twitter is the ability to follow (or, in other words, “stalk”) people who are twittering. Some celebrities have substantial numbers of followers; I have four (only three of whom I know – what’s that all about?) As it happens, Doonesbury has been reflecting on the same phenomenon for the past two weeks – Roland Hedley, the reporter in the strip, has been tweeting alongside his appearances on the news - start here and use the Next link to read the full story. If you do come up with any convincing suggestions, let me know. Or, find me on Twitter and “tweet” me! Love to you all, Greg On Friendship between women: A woman didn't come home one night. The next day she told her husband that she had slept over at a friend's house. The man called his wife's 10 best friends. None of them knew about it. On Friendship between men: A man didn't come home one night. The next day he told his wife that he had slept over at a friend's house. The woman called her husband's 10 best friends. Eight of them confirmed that yes, he had slept over. And two claimed that he was still there! A big, dumb, but fairly good looking biker stops by the Harley shop to have his bike fixed. They couldn't do it while he waited, so he said he didn't live far and would just walk home. On the way home, he stopped at the hardware store and bought a bucket and an anvil. Next, he stopped by the feed store and picked up a couple of chickens and a goose. However, he now had a problem: how to carry all of his purchases home. The feed store owner said, "Put the anvil in the bucket, carry the bucket in one hand, put a chicken under each arm and carry the goose in your other hand." "Hey, thanks!" the biker said, and out the door he went. In the parking lot, he was approached by a little old lady who told him she was lost. She asked, "Can you tell me how to get to 1603 Mockingbird Lane?" The biker said, "Well, as a matter of fact, I live at 1616 Mockingbird Lane. You can follow me through my short cut down this alley. We'll be there in no time." The little old lady looked him over cautiously, then said, "I am a lonely widow without a husband to defend me. How do I know that when we get in the alley you won't hold me against the wall, pull up my skirt, and ravish me?" "Holy smokes, Lady!" the biker said. "I'm carrying a bucket, an anvil, two chickens, and a goose. How in the world could I possibly hold you up against the wall and do that?" "Well," the lady said, "set the goose down, cover him with the bucket, put the anvil on top of the bucket, and I'll hold the chickens." Catherine, pregnant with her first child, paid a visit to her obstetrician's office. After the exam, she shyly began, "My husband wants me to ask you something...." "I know, I know," the doctor said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "There's no need to be embarrassed. I get asked that all the time." "You do?!" Catherine asked. "Sure," he says. "Sex is fine until late in the pregnancy." "No, that's not it," Catherine confessed. "He wants to know if I can still mow the lawn."
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You may remember some years ago we had a repeated visitation by Charlie, the Challenged Chaffinch who became exceedingly territorial (not surprising as the mating season commences) and spent much of his time pecking at his reflection in the south-facing bedroom window. If you have no recollection of this, you can refresh your memory