Stroke Averted 

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Last month, I quit Twitter. Or so I thought. This week, I need your help in actually, really, quitting Twitter.

I didn't have a big issue quitting on my desktop computer. I easily disabled it and marked my calendar to remember to reignite the damned thing every 30 days so I don't lose all those incredibly wise 20,300 tweets I've sent over the past 14 years or so.

I can't lose those because, you know, posterity. Who wouldn't want to be remembered for such Twitter gems as, "Mike Lee is a jackass"?

Well, he is, but with thousands of people saying the same thing all day, every day, it became quite futile to keep saying so. Even nuanced tweets about Lee's jackassery became passe. Lord knows, there's simply not enough characters in every language on Twitter combined to correctly tweet the degree to which Lee is less human than a squid and have it make any difference to Utah voters of the GOP stripe.

So, for those and many other reasons, I've decided to abandon Twitter. I did take the time, though, to pass a direct message along to several people who were kind enough not to mock me terribly for my decision. And that was that.

But on my phone I had issues. In the process of disabling my current Twitter app account I somehow managed to set up an entirely new one. My old handle was @johnsaltas. My new one is @john_saltas. I don't even know how I did that, but now I can't delete it because it says I need to use my password.

I don't remember setting it up so I clearly can't know what my password is. It said I must choose at least one follow on Twitter, so I chose Major League Baseball. I still can't disable it. I'm at a dead end, having a new Twitter account I don't want and can't get rid of.

Long story short, can anyone out there help me kill Twitter on my phone?

I was thinking of calling Elon Musk to help, but he's been off to Greece—looking like a Michelin Man floating device, so pale white is he and also a bit round—and I can't bear to interrupt his Mykonos vacation. He was on the verge of completing his purchase of Twitter—or so he said. I guess he needed some Aegean Sea balm to help him through. But alas, the deal fell apart. He was so close, too.

One of my last little spats on Twitter was a couple months ago when some nitwit with one follower (to be fair, maybe he had the same idiot issues as me with Twitter account setups) began chiding me. He began by defending the glorious reputation of Sen. Mike Lee, then segued into how I'm just another dumb liberal sheep before ending by saying that I should fear Elon Musk because he was going to buy Twitter and reinstate Donald Trump's stricken account (please strike and eliminate the @john_saltas if you are listening, Mr. Twitter) and shut the likes of me down. I have never been that lucky, dude.

Little did my Twitter nemesis know that me and Musk are cosmic buddies. It's the law that opposites attract, you know. I have nothing in common with Elon Musk, starting with his marshmallow complexion and body to my notable tan and rippling physique. I also have a lifelong history of failure at courtship (not counting that I became married during the Eisenhour administration), whereas Musk apparently has out-of-wedlock children coming out of his ears. That makes him a hero in the world of conservative Christians, while I have but three kids—none of whom are bastards. That makes me a fake Christian conservative.

I didn't have to grow up with Musk, nor ever share so much as a thimble of Salon le Mesnil Blanc de Blancs Brut Champagne with him to declare him as my yang. We are so distinctly different that I know exactly who and what he is. No need to get in the grits here, but we also will not be sharing plastic mugs of Annie Green Springs, because he knows exactly who I am as well: A nobody to the likes of him, yet we are bound to the laws of the universe, of course.

I'm grateful that, unlike other rapscallions such as Mike Lee and Donald Trump, Musk is often taken to bilking people with lots of money rather than bilking people of lower means. He's a high-class bilker. Lee and Trump bottom-feed by appealing to fear. Musk feeds himself at the trough of greed and ego.

So, even though I primarily despise him to no end, I have a slight amount of empathy for him since his enemies seem to be my enemies, too.

Sometimes though, some of his victims aren't fully bad guys. Like that guy Sergey Brin. I only know three things about Brin: Before Twitter ruined my life, Google ruined my life, and Brin is a co-founder of Google; Elon Musk is accused of boinking Brin's wife (on point, Elon, on point!); and that Brin bears a striking resemblance to the newly discovered picture of Latter-day Saint founder and prophet, Joseph Smith.

Brin apparently supports Democratic causes and is a decent philanthropist, so he can't be all bad. If he owned Twitter instead of Google, maybe I'd stick around. But really, that's a fool's exercise for me at this point: It's barely over a month and my blood pressure has decreased by seven systolic points and four diastolic. Stroke averted.

The only thing raising my blood pressure these days is that I can't delete my newest Twitter account. I don't want it. Help me get rid of it, please!

Send comments to john@cityweekly.net