News of the Tweet: Following You, Following Me

Changing games, changing face and Chris Brown...again.

By Seb Kemp

Twitter changed this week. I think. I don't really know because no one else mentioned it so I have to assume it was either not newsworthy or it just happened at my end. One day this week I fired up the old Google box and switched the channel over to Twitter only to find someone had done some interior decorating. [Editor’s Note: Seb bought his computer on the Gray Market somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle, so it’s about a month behind the Twitter redesign]. The reading thing had moved a little to the right, the clicky thing for following had shifted a bit up, and I thought the bit you press to find out about yourself had disappeared until I found it up the top of my screen and called something entirely different.

Unlike the uproar that occurs on Facebook when something minor moves a bit to the left and which make the Arab Spring seem like a village fete in comparison, this makeover on Twitter seemed to not ruffle a feather.

I suppose Twitter is so simple that even a monkey can have a profile. I mean, there isn't much to it: you read, you write, you pass on links of interest, and you follow the 140 character puffs of wisdom of people you may never meet.

Case in point is photographer and 19th century fashionista, Dan Barham. Follow him.

Of course, once you start following one person you are led to other people. It is sort of like a pyramid scheme. Take, for example, Dan's tweet; who is Privateer Magazine? Well it turns out they are either celestial tweeters or extreme skydiving astronauts.

If, however, they were actually on a commercial flight somewhere then let's hope they don't face the same shame as ladies in a Texas airport.

It seems as if some voyeurs in the employment of His Majesty's US Homeland Security have been getting their rocks off at work. This story comes via Wired so quickly flick channels and watch the full story.

Welcome back. Now tell me, does the body scan image look like it had a pair of boobs AND a penis?

Talking of dubious motives and questionable gender bending, British troublemakers Tom Grundy, Sam Reynolds, Olly Wilkins, and Grant Robinson showed the world the lighter side of double backflips on ice.

Anyway, back to Twitter followers and followees. Here we see either an act of desperation on the part of the worlds largest mountain bike event or Dirt tweeters not following a lead and following the Crankworx social media machine.

Of course, even when you follow someone you never really know who you are following. Or if they have a mental deficiency. As is the case below.

What kind of idiot hands out his girlfriend over a tweet? What is more, his explanation is lost in the grammar vortex. Does Gee actually possess a rad and if so what is it?

Furthermore, why is this rad #hashtagged? and #whatthehellarehashtags?

I don't know how but somehow Chris Brown makes it into #NOTT again. This is the third reference in ten installments, and, for someone who doesn't watch TV, doesn't listen to pop culture and doesn't read Perez Hilton, this is mad. How does this ghostly figure keeps popping into my tweets like a fart in a packed airplane (i.e. you know the fart is out there but you don't know how or where it came from)?

Changing tracks a little bit here is a tweet that stands out almost as much as the horror in the link.

As does this one.

And this one.

The common thread between these horrendous acts of brutality and metaphorically borrowing a strangers Aston Martin is that all were brought to justice.

Keeping with the theme of daring stunts and mischief, there seems to be a new manifesto for the freeride kids this summer.

I'd hope so. I know I don't get charged a penny to see gladiators like Zink, McCaul, Berrecloth and Semenuk go toe-to-toe in the Crankworx arena, but I still expect something more than what some funky French chap can do on his grandmother's bicycle.

Cam Zink has done more for a free watch than any normal person should. His backflip in the G-Shock advert still blows me away, not just for the sheer magnitude of the jump but for the consequences he gambled with for just a web edit. Which is why it makes me shake like a shitting dog about what he might unleash in Where The Trail Ends: Freeride Entertainment’s long awaited cinematic and freeride manifesto, which is slowly coming together.

Perhaps the game will be changed but in that time I hope to have understood where all the buttons and clickers have disappeared to on my favorite Monday morning game, Twitter.

In all of the confusion of the Twitter makeover I changed my Twitter name. I did this partly out of necessity (keep an eye out on @2FLAT) and partly out of a need to explore the workings of Twitter. What I discovered is that when you change your name from the name you were given at birth to some abstracted one liner the number of people following you increases considerably.

And after that shameless plug I'll leave you with this lovely tweet by my main man, Ghandi