Last night I wrote about why I didn’t like Twitter. Specifically, I don’t like being notified that other people like it when somebody is mean to me. I said it was like being kicked repeatedly in the shins by total strangers and not being able to defend myself.
Well, that was yesterday. Today I like Twitter.
Because Frank Oz, coauthor of all my fondest childhood and adolescent memories, liked a reply I made to him.
Which means that now both Ernie and Bert know my name, or have (at the very least) acknowledged my existence. My inner five-year-old is freaking out right now.
The fact that Frank Oz liked something that I created is like a talisman, an invisible shield against all the hateful little indirect digs that people have made at me the last few days. Their “likes” toward my adversary stung me like falling icicles, but while falling icicles can cause damage, they are powerless against the light of the sun.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go scream and faint repeatedly. 😀 😆