The Saints of Twitter
As everybody knows, Twitter is a pestilent swamp.
If you cross the borders and enter into this swamp-nation, you will instantly be transformed into a pitiless ideological zombie. You will be shouting at everything. You will be angry, sunrise to sunset, and then into the night. Even under your blankets and the ominous, blue glow of your phone, you will still be furious, your brain in terrible flames. Twitter knows this and is now trying to encourage civil behaviour, both by cancelling offensive accounts, and nominating “well-behaved” people for “Sainthood.” Sainthood is nothing more than a halo emoji that appears beside your name, but Twitter is hopeful it might catch on and help put out the still burning swamp fire. Here are a few of the people who recently received a halo emoji:
Saint Bobby D of Oshawa
“Somebody had posted a photo of a guy sitting on the subway with his legs slightly apart under the heading, ‘THIS IS AGRESSIVE MANSPREADING!!! SO SICK OF TOXIC MASCULINE ENTITLEMENT!!!!” I was going to point out that the author had spelled aggressive wrong, but she already seemed pretty worked up so I decided not to contribute to the anger storm.”
Saint Heather of Trent
“ I came across a headline on Twitter that said, “Trump’s limo driver of 25 years confirms the President has always been an asshole.” I was just about to Retweeet it when it occurred to me that I should probably read the article before propelling it further into the world, and so I just let it go.
Saint Brad of Midland
“I had been hearing a lot about the Syrian Civil War and the truth is that I really didn’t know much about it. To be honest, I had never even heard of Aleppo, thinking it was the name of a Finnish hockey coach, not a besieged city, and so I read a Vox Explainer about the situation and consequently felt pretty confident of my understanding of the complex predicament. I was about to engage in a robust argument about what was best for Syria and Syrians in general, when it struck me that I had never been to Syria. I had never read any Syrian press. I didn’t speak Arabic. I didn’t even know any Syrians. And geez, I couldn’t even work the new remote we got with our subscription to Crave TV, so it dawned on me that maybe I wasn’t the guy to solve “the Syrian problem,” and I just kept my opinion to myself.
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