It strikes me — and I’m as guilty as the day is long — that it’s going to be an interesting day, Nov. 9, no matter who wins (I know who I’m voting for). Those of us (did I mention I’m guilty as the day is long?) who’ve been in the trenches indulging in slap fights with people who didn’t vote as we did are now going to have to crawl back up on land, look our neighbor in the eye and say, “Wassup?”
Wassup is that all the nasty stuff we’ve said to one another just may stick. This morning I awoke to a tweet from a man I’ve never met who sent a lingering video of his automatic, and proposing that if I come for him, he will put me out of my misery.” I don’t know the guy. I reported it, though the Twitter Gods feel that doesn’t rise to the level of threat. But yeeeeesh!
I worry about that, even as I once again wade in on Twitter and show my mad snark skillz along with my widening behind.
So my JRNL 3351 class, a journalism research class, will spend the semester vetting tweets and videos and various other propositions made in public. We’ll record our findings, a kind of collegiate PolitiFact, on a blog we’re building. I’ll let you know when it’s live. I encouraged the students today, on the first day of class, to vet any tweet/Facebook post/television/radio appearance they chose, and I told them it would be OK if they vetted me. It would serve me right. And then I took it back. I’m not quite done being hateful.