I have to say, I liked my version of the online community better. (Though the iPhone beats the Virgil ...)
I don't know how many friends I have on Facebook, but there are some great people on my list. Smart, funny, talented. And what I find most amazing about some of those smart, funny, and talented people, is how ... banal they come across.
Like listening to the Nixon tapes. This man was the President and supposedly a bright fellow, but if you listen to him talking to his supposedly-bright advisers, you wouldn't know it.
Do I really care -- does anybody care? -- about how which Star Trek actors they would be? About what they had for breakfast? Or the IQ test, which if you have the brains God gave a gray goat, you can see is based entirely on how fast you can answer the questions? How do such things inform or enrich their lives? Bad enough they spend way too much time doing 'em, must they compound it by telling us about it?
That's what blogs are for, right? I can hold forth at length about such mundane things.
True, there are posts that have substance -- links to videos I enjoy -- at least two of the posters to my blog are into aerial dances, with ropes and rings and like that, and that is fascinating to watch. And some writers have links to their blogs, which are interesting to read. And there are some old friends who have been out of touch who've popped up, and it is great to re-connect and see how they have gotten on in the world, but ...
Of course, I'm not much on small talk at parties either, so probably that's just me.
As for Twitter ...
I don't think I've actually posted anything there, though I apparently have followers. What, I wonder, are they following when they send me notes telling me this? Steve's ghost, I guess.
Though I have had some fun coming up with neologistic verb forms, based on the anglo-saxon tenses for defecate: As in, "Did you tweet?" "Yes, I twat ..."