To tweet or not to tweet

I’m old school.  I learned to drive stick shift on Papa’s old Fifty-something Chevy pickup truck.  In Vegas when there was more desert than lights, when the Strip was the only show in town, I borrowed the truck without telling anyone I’d never driven stick.  I knew the H design for shifting on the dash column from first to second to third.  The clutch, however, made it harder.  Three traffic signals later, and a line of impatient drivers, I’d mastered it.

Not so this social networking stuff.  I can barely answer a call on a cell phone.  I’ve never successfully placed a call on hold, picked up a second call, then resumed the first conversation.  And that’s at the office when I’m answering the Helpdesk. 

Digg reminds me of the little warning signs that tells me not to go too deep for fear of electrocution.  MySpace is just that — my space.  I purposely keep it that way.  I don’t want anyone in it.  Facebook should be a make-up instructional guide.  Delicious is the smell of Mom’s apple pie.  StumbleUpon is a good buy.  And Spam has always been distasteful.

“I never twit,” I told my office co-worker.

“It’s tweet,” she corrected me.

Whatever.

That doesn’t make sense.  If I use Twitter, shouldn’t it be a twit.  Stupid English.  Another irregular verb.  

Should I ever figure out Twitter, you can say you received a tweet from a twit.

Related posts:

1. Game night for seniors
2. The younger generation
3. My take on politics