A brief epitaph for Twitter…

He’s dead, Dave, everybody is dead, everybody is dead, Dave.

Here lies Twitter, 2006 – 2023, a once-mighty avian of 280-characters, whose wings were clipped by the sleek and silky Threads. It chirped, it cheeped, it echo’d cross the universe, a whirl of hashtags in the cosmic æther, causing politicians to blush and comedians to star.

We bore witness to its rise, saw it flex and flurry, often causing more confusion than a Vogon’s love poem, and sometimes, just sometimes, making about as much sense as the Luggage on a Discworld pub crawl.

In its heyday, Twitter was a throbbing neural network, a seething consciousness that, while occasionally resembling a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster hangover, also managed to be as cool as a Samuel L. Jackson one-liner. But alas! With more plot twists than an Ankh-Morporkian saga, its fate was sealed in the same way a rat, a stick and some ketchup was for C.M.O.T. Dibber.

Here it rests, mute and retweet-less, not so much pushing up daisies as providing digital compost to the fertile garden of cyber obscurity. Say ‘What’ again, I dare you, motherfucker! It’s done, gone the way of Betamax and sanity in the face of a Total Perspective Vortex.

So, goodbye Twitter, you will be remembered, just as one recalls a particularly engaging game of Brockian Ultra-Cricket… with a hint of bemusement, a smidge of nostalgia, and an eyebrow forever cocked in incredulous amusement. May your servers spin down in peace, your hashtags fade into quiet night, and your spirit of unruly discourse flit about the e-ether like a drunken Nac Mac Feegle at a wake.