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HEY TWITS.

If you've come here as the result of my sending this link to you on Twitter, you are not my friend, I don't want to be your friend, and this means you. You've already wasted enough of my time, and I'd sooner punch you in the face than look at you.

Twitter is where I come to relax. I follow friends, entertainment, and news and services that I think are relevant to my interests.

If you think the majority of the below describes you:

Web 2.0 SEO entrepreneur marketing fresh monetizing social media driven self-promotion viral marketing branding synergy strategic solutions self-starting savvy leader profitable market share

...I am probably going to block and report your ass for spam faster than you can say 'Google page ranking'.

I do not want you; I do not like you; I may even actively want your business to fail. Hell, I want your entire soulsucking industry to go down in flames like the biggest dot-com bomb that ever sprayed itself down with gasoline then lit up a smoke just as the gasoline vapor/air mixture reached the exact optimum for an explosion that would make all five MythBusters green with envy.

I do not want to buy your shit. I do not want to be told that I need to buy your shit. I do not want to be subjected to your assault on my psyche to attempt to convince me that I will be miserable without your shit. I do not want to share tips and tricks on how to get marks to bite your baited hooks, and I resent being mistaken for anything that you would consider a colleague. I do not appreciate brute force without elegance. I am not in your target market, and I violently resent you attempting to place me in it.

If attention is the currency of the internet, and you have come to my attention and I find that you have wasted my time, rest assured that it is not because I am paying attention to you, it is because you have mugged some of my attention from me, and I am going to do as much intellectual violence as I can to you in the shortest length of time that I can, and I am going to enjoy doing it. Feel lucky that one minute is more time than I feel like wasting on you, and I'm going to devote it to being as effective as possible at getting you out of my life and everyone else's.

Crossposted. comment count unavailable comments.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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