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this is the sort of thing we in the humor biz call “hyperbole.” It’s not pronounced the way it looks so don’t expect to go to Pottery Barn and find a set of hypercups and hypersaucers. It means exaggerating for effect.
    I wish I could remember the exact tweet that hacked off the divine Ms. Ireland, who put me in my place while noting that she was just settling into her seat in first class and feeling all positive and gooey until she read something snarky that I had written.

    Again, I’m way more tickled that she read it than the fact that she hated it. This woman tweets continuously, probably even while she’s answering nature’s call.
    I’m sure Kathy Ireland is utterly delightful in a detached, obnoxiously slender kind of way but she might wanna not take everything quite so seriously. We get that she’s a model and smart. Strangely, this doesn’t surprise us as much as it seems to surprise her.
    Anyway, I think I could learn a lesson from Kathy because she is just so damn chatty in her constant tweets. She’s not a lazybones like me when it comes to tweeting. Seems like she must spend her entire day keeping her followers informed of every nuance of her day and, at the end of the day, she always tells her “angels” that she’s going to sign off.
    Goodnight, angels! she’ll tweet. It’s nothing short of amazing that she can take the time to do that and find the time to be the face in front of the designs actually created by probably hundreds of highly talented gay males.
    Besides becoming more active in the Twittersphere, it has also been strongly suggested that I should increase my Internet presence by writing a daily blog.
    Sigh.
    Sigh again.
    And once more.
    What can I tell y’all? If you write all day, writing a blog just seems like one more thing to do. Must we “stream” our
lives constantly? When you’re constantly telling everyone exactly what you’re doing ( Pot roast tonight! ) or how you’re feeling ( My boss is an arrogant twit !) it starts sounding kinda samey, right?
    Because we are all so conscious of blabbing our every thought these days, it’s no wonder some of us are saying a little too much.
    Consider Twitter-savvy Senator Chuck Grassley of Iowa’s suggestion that AIG executives should either resign or take a deep bow and follow the Japanese example of killing themselves. Grassley did this as easily and lightly as if he had suggested that he’d be happy to bring the lime Jell-O mold to the Senate picnic.
    In a separate but related story, Judge Judy said recently that she was surprised that the loathsome Bernie Madoff didn’t kill himself rather than go to prison. I ask you: Is that any way for an officer of the make-believe television court to talk?
    My point is that we might need to be more circumspect in the face of all this chattiness.
    As one who receives quarterly “benefits” statements from AIG (which stands for “all I got” in my case), I should be as angry as anybody about dozens of soulless suits receiving millions of dollars in bonuses for doing The Worst Job in the History of the Working World, but I believe that the rules of polite society dictate that we should never, ever invite anyone to off himself, even in jest.
    No, no. It would be far more gratifying to see a few AIG
bigwigs dropped off in Deliverance land dressed only in silver lame ’chaps and I (HEART) GUN CONTROL LAWS T-shirts.
    I know—goosebumps, right?
    Lately, in my real, not cyber, life, I’ve had an unusually hard time holding my tongue, and I believe it’s because I’m so used to cyber-sharing too much that I’ve forgotten how to turn it off.
    And while I haven’t invited the lunkhead who double billed me for a repair and refused to refund the money to do the honorable thing and plunge a samurai sword through his chest, I did toy with the notion.
    As a Southerner, this conduct is simply unbecoming. We are famous for avoiding telling people they have displeased us in any way and will