So earlier today I popped over to an old chat area called sportsjournalists.com. The place used to be a regular spot for industry gossip and information, but over the past few years it’s turned into a bit of a ghost town. That’s not an insult or anything—just sorta the plight of chat rooms in 2016.
Anyhow, there was a thread related to my ultimately doomed SportsByBrooks piece, and it included this take concerning my Twitter presence …
Pearlman is a perfect example of a journalist whose Twitter profile/persona does him zero favors.
I thought about this quite a bit. Actually, I’ve thought about this for a long time. And, well, the person is right. My Twitter profile/persona does me no favors. None. Zero. As a guy who sits and writes/reports books most days, I’m always in front of a screen with Twitter open. If something crosses my mind, I Tweet it. If I see something gross, I describe it. If Donald Trump drives me to drink, I explode. I am, in short, brutally bad at this whole Twitter thing, where you’re supposed to stay in your lane and Tweet only about, say, sports or books or whatnot. Too often I come off as an intolerant asshole. Probably because, politically, I am an intolerant asshole.
But—and here’s the big but—so what? It is what it is. I love expressing myself; unloading. If someone gets mad because I block him? Big shit. If I lose a few potential sales with an anti-Trump diatribe? Meh, it’s OK. At day’s end, it’s all just a game. It’s a pretend world of virtual nonsense.
Twitter is Twitter.
I’ll live.
