Today’s Tirade: Followers on Twitter

I hope this doesn’t cost me a few, but what do many followers do on Twitter, once they follow you? Do they actually read your tweets, or dump all of their cut-and-pasted garbage onto one’s timeline: re-tweeted trash from their own followers, articles found at various blogs, network and news Web sites, spewing their own outlook on politics, lifestyles and religion; or drivel from some wannabe who thinks they are Mr. Know-it-all? Then there are those pompous, self-righteous individuals (myself included) who think they can make your life seem worthwhile by constantly regurgitating quotations from some famous old sage, words also cut and pasted into a tweet that further clutters up your timeline. How about them who strictly are fans of someone extraordinary, and all they do is re-tweet the latter’s tweets? I find that most peculiar, making me wonder why I am reading these things secondhand, and not just following the original authors of the jargon to begin with. What about the egotistical ballyhoos that constantly tweet the same things about themselves and their contributions to the literary world or society? It makes me want to say, “STFU already,” to put it nicely; and yet, I continue to read and cherish their “followship” regardless. After all, Twitter is based on self-promotion, and some of my followers are experts at it while knowing nothing else.

Followers are a funny breed. For celebrities, their cyberspace entourage are essentially crazed groupies gathered from the information superhighway, programmed to re-tweet, like, or immediately favor the former’s superfluous, self-indulgent utterances or pictures, no matter how lame they may be. These indigenous species are noted for brown rings around their noses. When was the last time you saw the term, “Information Superhighway”? That dates back to when Al Gore invented the Internet. Celebrities can post anything, and straightaway over 50-plus re-tweets, and the same amount of favorites are indicated with a plethora of plastered icons spread all across the bottom of the said tweet.

A shout-out to so-called Klout Influencers is quite appropriate. You know the ones: the self-proclaimed experts in selected fields, who give advice on their particular niche, or re-tweet their follower’s mentioning their greatness, tweet after tweet, hour after hour, day after day, non-stop, never changing their rap, repeating it often to my tuned-out ears, while I wonder how great they must be, tweeting their lives away.

Then’s there me. Being a follower, I try to submit something original for all: a photograph, video, some presumed witticism that turns out all wrong, a compliment, or comment; and often wish that I would immediately get one re-tweet, a favorite, or “Kudos, mate, you done well.” Thankfully, I occasionally do and have a core of folks following me, putting up with my nonsense, who are sincere and most gracious, true artists, musicians, writers, photographers, social-media experts, and genuinely down-to-earth people. Perhaps my work is not worthy of praise, so be it; but I see such crap on here that gets acknowledgement, it makes me plain mad at times!

So goes my tirade, something about which I suppose many artists have complained during their careers. Van Gogh sold only one of his magnificent, priceless paintings during his lifetime. Surely, that must have played on his mind, or was a major cause of him losing it. I dedicated nearly a chapter to van Gogh in my upcoming novel, Mike Slickster’s Amsterdam High Jinks. I feel we are kindred spirits.

About Mike Slickster

As an early retiree with an honorary doctorate degree from the proverbial "School of Hard Knocks," this upcoming author with a lot of free time on his hands utilizes his expansive repertoire for humorous yet tragic, wildly creative writing that contains years of imaginative fantasy, pure nonsense, classic slapstick, extreme happiness and searing heartbreak; gathered by a wealth of personal experiences throughout his thrilling—sometimes mundane or unusually horrid—free-spirited, rock-'n'-roller-coaster ride around our beloved Planet Earth. Mike Slickster's illustrious quest continues, living now in Act Three of his present incarnation, quite a bit on the cutting edge of profundity and philosophical merriment as seen through his colorful characters, most notably evident in the amusing Thirty Days Across the Big Pond series, all of which can be found at
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6 Responses to Today’s Tirade: Followers on Twitter

  1. Anonymous says:


    Animosity and being ignored are sometimes the result of jealousy, or illusions of grandeur and self importance by the perpetrator, for their not wanting to share the lead. Life and especially the Internet are a stage.

  2. Anonymous says:


    Many reasons contributed to van Gogh’s demise.

    • Re: Vincent

      Yes, most likely there were, but all of them are pure speculation, other than the fatal, self-inflicted gunshot wound to his chest. A tortured genius he was. Too bad he ultimately killed himself. Most likely his present-day reputation would have caught up with him during his own lifetime had he waited. Van Gogh was only thirty-seven when he died. Thanks for commenting.

  3. Anonymous says:

    Don’t sweat the petty stuff. As long as you get pleasure in what you do, that’s really all that matters.

    • Rant & Rave

      You’re absolutely right; but as a self-proclaimed artist and writer, I often get temperamental. If you’ve read any of my other tirades, you’ll find I love to rant and rave 🙂

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