For the past year, in the dimly lit corridors of congressional office buildings the very men and women we've elected to make the laws of this fine country sit in front of their computers, trying to makes sense of this twitter thing. This phenomenon that was first embraced by the 20-something, internet savvy populations of metropolitan regions as a way to feed their slight narcism, or as a way to catalog their drunk thoughts so they can remember them in the morning, or most often as a way to fumble with their phones while standing awkwardly at a party with no one to talk to. How do these politicians adopt this to their own needs? Perhaps, they thought, they could keep their constituents in the know of what it is they actually do. Perhaps, they realized, more importantly, they could even use it as a way to solicit small donations. The kind of $5 checks from Ms. Jane Twitizen that they don't really need, but makes them feel a little bit better about the $10,000 check they accepted from Satan himself earlier in the day for their Political Action Committees.
Elsewhere, in the storied halls of The Atlantic
a magazine with 150 years of history whose contributers have included Emerson, Longfellow and Beacher Stowe, the editorial staff wondered how they could stay relevant in the age of the internet. How they could make people realize that someone besides Andrew Sullivan was still relevant in that office. Aha! They had it! They would review all of these politicians accounts of these politicians and arrange them in some sort of list, and then post that on the interne
t for the delight of someone -- mostly those politicians that have been included.
How does this have anything to do with you, dear citizen of Miami? Why would you want it to have anything to do with you anyway? Well, our very own Senator Bill Nelson has made this list. The Atlantic says he is twitter obsessed with "the Everglades, the stimulus bill, alternative energy."