Jennifer Angelo is funny, snarky, and quick-witted. She rebuts nonsense. She defends the truth.
She posts on Twitter.
Now that Twitter is on the ropes, I have discovered it. I want this blog to be considered thoughtful and fair-minded, so I have never paid much attention to Twitter. Twitter is blunt advocacy.
Jennifer Angelo is married to an occasional guest post writer and friend from my youth, Jack Mullen, so when I joined Twitter I clicked to "follow" her. That leads to my getting fed other posts chosen for me by what Twitter knows I read. That specialized feed makes Twitter addictive and dangerous.
Her Twitter description is: "Democrat, book reader, lawyer, animal rescue, married. Separation of church and state, guns, reproductive freedom." She writes that Twitter is in trouble. She isn't ready to say goodbye to it.
Guest Post by Jennifer Angelo, also known as Jennifer M.
Twitter has been going through some things. Since Elon Musk took over, a big percentage of employees has left or been fired, Musk has shared plans for the site and then changed them almost daily, and no one (except possibly Musk) thinks he has put the company on the road to profitability. He issued an ultimatum a few days ago telling every employee to either agree to a "hardcore" 18-hour-a-day work schedule or quit. A large number did the latter, including the guy in charge of employee badges. People at an office down the coast couldn’t get out of the parking garage because their badges wouldn’t open the gate. Musk asked the employee to return.
In light of all this, Twitter users have developed a sinking ship mentality, and I’ve been surprised by my feelings about a future without Twitter. I’ve been active on the site since 2015 and often ashamed for spending so much time there. I’ve often thought I’d be better off if it just went away. But last night I realized how much I’ve come to depend on the site as an outlet for my frustration about politics, a place to share jokes and opinions and, most surprisingly, a source of friendship and inspiration.
Twitter lets me talk back to people. I made my career as a lawyer and enjoyed debating. My early work was fighting consumer fraud, and I have abiding contempt for those who run scams of any kind. All that transfers nicely to setting the record straight on Twitter, where one finds an alarming amount of unchecked misinformation, both pre- and post- Musk. Whether anyone sees my tweets or not, it gives me satisfaction to debunk false claims (no, the IRS isn’t hiring 87,000 auditors), and to tell Trump supporters I see them for the brainwashed conspiracy theorists and MAGA cult members that they are.
It's also fun talking back to public officials who have abandoned the concept of truth (so much better than shouting at the TV). All politicians lie, but Republicans are shameless. Happily, Twitter gives me the chance to counter their lies directly (no, Democrats haven’t defunded the police) or, if short on time, just to tell them they’re crackpots and unworthy of their positions. My most-used word on Twitter? Nonsense. My most replied-to liar? Jim Jordan, who runs the GOP Judiciary Committee account (no, Jim, Trump isn't an innocent victim of Merrick Garland's political overreach).
If Twitter went away I would miss the witty people. “Last tweets” this past week had me smiling. “If this is my last tweet, I just gotta say one thing – I will never, ever buy a Tesla.” “If this is our last tweet, just remember: GenZ is the wrong generation to piss off.” “In case this is my last tweet, I just want to confirm that men cause 100% of unwanted pregnancies.”
There were others that got me thinking about Twitter as a place that adds meaning to people’s lives: “Might be my last tweet. I’ll miss the good sides of Twitter that are often overlooked – the humor, the links to epiphanous writing I wouldn’t otherwise have seen, and the range of smart people from across the planet.” “If Twitter goes down, I would want my last tweet to be…Thank you.” Many people share news of their illnesses and losses on Twitter, and the warmth and empathy of the people who respond has brought tears to my eyes. Seeing people be vulnerable enough to share personal information with the world and get only compassion from strangers reassures me that maybe we’re going to be all right.
So, maybe Twitter will carry on, maybe not. I hope it survives. I need the laughs, the connections and the opportunity to say my piece.
After ten years on Twitter, I have deleted my account. When I first joined the platform, it was a tool for making connections between people in my hometown and our sister city in Italy. It was an accessory to other networking tools like a website and a LinkedIn account. At that time, it wasn’t political, at least to me. I never imagined a deranged president using it to make edicts or fire public servants disloyal to him. I didn’t realize that global bad actors would weaponize it.
I made some great friends on Twitter even though I will probably never see them face to face. With the emergence of Trump, it went from a public plaza to a battleground. Trolls, bots and some very nasty people began to litter the Twitter landscape. The management of Twitter acknowledged some of its problems and took steps to correct them. Banning Trump was a pivotal moment and, for a while, Twitter seemed a less toxic place.
I have no idea why Elon Musk, with some Saudi backing, would buy Twitter and promptly destroy it. He is an asshole but not an idiot. Whatever he has in mind, I want no part of it. Some say we must stay and fight, but I think that is folly. It’s Musk’s playground and not a level playing field. If you’re on Twitter you are an Elon Musk asset. He owns your eyeballs and everything you share on Twitter.