My student Laura says the new Facebook looks like the old Twitter, which may indeed be the case.   I wouldn’t know a Tweet from a Squeak, but I’ll take her word for it.  She should know.  I, on the other hand, remain mostly bothered by Facebook’s forcing us to post “Status Updates” in the third person.  I had hoped the new version would eliminate that flaw, but no such luck.  If anything, it’s worse.  Yet this has not interrupted my addiction to the site.  I need a 12 step group.  I may require an intervention from friends and family who love me enough to pry my dying fingers from the mouse and bring me back to a world of face to real face communication–god, there we go with that image again.  The site is insidious.  It gets into your blood, and you’re  never the same. 

At any rate, while I was  instant messaging with my sister  last night (on Facebook, of course), I began to wonder why people don’t publish books of these abbreviated dialogues, like they assemble the correspondence of important people, so the rest of us can read what it’s like to be rich, or famous, or popular,  or behind bars.  Sometimes  Lynn is so damn funny, I imagine others might appreciate her humor and want to read her terse one-liners.  Our instant messaging works well  because  I provide the boring backdrop against which Lynn can pitch her comments.  The comic always needs a straight face at which to sling her zingers, unless of course she plays the more serious role herself and deflects amusing comments off her own shiny surfaces.

So much for my musings on the nature of comedy.  I know about as much about it, as I do about Twitter.