There isn’t an application I look to close more swiftly on my laptop than the instant messaging programme.
I’ve watched this varmint long enough to know it’s the online equivalent of a stone in your waders, popping up like a meerkat at 10-second intervals because someone you barely know has just remembered an additional piece of meaningless crap to go with all the other meaningless crap he’s crammed onto Twitter this afternoon.
Any other meaningless crap that comes to mind, rest assured he’ll text you…
It does make me laugh when Twitter snobs suggest that plugging the latest post on your blog isn’t quite the done thing on that particular medium. Presumably because it holds up all the useful stuff, like knowing that thunderthighs from Orlando is now certain her period is overdue.
Alongside, AIM ‘content’ mind you, Twitter looks like the Library of Congress. So I’m in no way suprised that Twitterers are now up in arms that some AIM ‘bot’ is clogging up their in-box by trying to connect random people.
I’m just sad that it’s been christened the Trout Bot. Why do so many of life’s negative things hijack my hobby for a label?
‘Trout pout’ I can live with: it rhymes and I can see the resemblance but must trout always be the epithet of choice for weapons (“slap him with a trout”) or anything smelly or ugly? This is a scenic, sociable, soul-restoring pastime that has inspired artists and writers alike for centuries and I resent the connection.
Come on programmers; it’s just a few more letters:
Have those on me but please, change the record…