Twitter-Faced Blog-space AIM'd YahooChat LinkedInto RSS Feedbag

I've become overwhelmed with the various constantly increasing ways to communicate on the internet.

I remember a day where you had 3 options. Face to Face, Phone Call, Snail Mail. And the rest of our lives seem to be spent engaging in what was known as "cardiovascular activities." How quaint, an age where people were not electronically linked into everyone else via 124 different methods. I remember when email was a new idea.. now it's considered old school!

So I've got my blog spaces. My mySpaces. I'm Facebooking. I'm chatting. Emailing. But I refuse to twitter. I haven't looked into what twitter is but it sounds suspiciously like chatter from a twit. As in the chatter that has polluted our audio landscape making it impossible to concentrate on any one thing for a period of time. Stop chattering you twits I'm trying to remember what was in my brain a moment ago!

So I'm twitterpated, not chatterboxing. I'm not hooking into my intraweb via my mobile binary googlebox mechanism.

On a positive note, I have pretty much established contact with every person I have ever seen from the moment of birth until 3 seconds ago via Facebook. Also on MySpace, I have on occasion befriended blocks of cheese, bottles of ketchup, cats, and long dead celebrities. At one point I had over 15 George W. Bush's amongst my acquaintances.

What's my point? A POINT YOU SAY? We don't have to have a point to clutter up the information superhighway with our over abundances of ones and zeros. I'm just ambling along, weaving back and forth across many lanes.. letting ones and zeros fall off the back of my vehicle.. angry net pilots swerving around me, cussing me out using characters like &(^$&^ and )&*(^(!~

How long until I start blogging the frequency and consistency of my daily potty trips? Only time will tell. This is the age of information. We must share everything at all times, to the point where we no longer have any thoughts.. we just experience and report. It's up to the sands of time to interpret and understand.

My fingers hurt. I'm going to go eat lunch. I might have the Blimpie's Best, perhaps the combo. I'll let you know later.