Just got drug into a skype with 50 of my “closest” friends. Twitter is literally totally down. This is what I penned (pulled a lot from my friend Shakespeare!):
Twittero, Twittero, wherefore art thou twittero? Deny thy server and refuse to crash; or if thou wilt not, be but sworn to never crash again, and I’ll no longer blog.
Tis but thy server that is my enemy Thou art thyself, not a selfish crashing fiend. What’s a Twittero? It is nor hand nor foot nor arm nor face nor any other part belonging to man. O be some other dependable service! What’s in a server? That which we call our favorite service on any other server would smell just as sweet.
So, twittero would, were he not Twittero called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without title, twittero, doff thy server, and for thy server, which is no part of thee, find a new stable platform so that we may flock to thy warmth.
OK, I’ve got to work on my presentation for tomorrow. I will be ustreaming from 9:45 – 10:45 EST — My Seatmate Lives in china: the imperative for global collaborative projects.
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