The Reasonably Prudent Law Student

…and that time he replied to me.

So apparently, this is a big deal.

(Warning: This is a post about nothing.)

I didn’t think it was a big deal, because, whatever, I’m kind of scatter-brained already. You could tell me that they found life on Saturn and that all the specimen looked like miniature Jerry Lewises, and two minutes later, I’d be off hiding behind a shrub and poking a garden gnome with a stick because I was convinced that it was giving me the ol’ stink eye.

:-|

I have issues, you guys.

And I don’t trust gnomes. I DO NOT TRUST THEM. And I don’t care how hard they’re trying to rebrand themselves as helpful, wry little British things that want to help you save on airfare and lodging.

I DO NOT TRUST YOU GARDEN GNOMES AND I DO NOT BUY YOUR SCHTICK AND NEITHER DOES THE REST OF THE WORLD.

Anyway, speaking of evil gnomes, I’d like to submit as evidence Exhibit A.

Uncle Karl. AKA Karl Rove. AKA FML.

As some of you know, Uncle Karl has a Twitter account. Occasionally he’ll post trivia questions for his followers, things like, “Who was the last person to sign the Declaration of Independence?” (Thomas McKean) and then he’ll tweet the winner or some such.

Anyway, Uncle Karl posted this last night during the State of the Union address:

I, um, might have replied with this.

He definitely replied with this.

That led me to say this.

Thus ended my flirt-fest with Uncle Karl, because he didn’t reply.

I didn’t think much of his ‘speak truthfully and some shit’ reply. I figured it was an automated tweet he sent to 80 people in the last two minutes, so whatever. Then I went and did stuff, and then the LawSkooBFF was like, you’re famous! And I didn’t understand.

But apparently, Uncle Karl only replied to me, and not 80 other people like I had initially thought. I got some fun replies on Twitter, which I liked. (Click to follow these tweeps. Twits, I like to think of them as.)

My old pal Jessica from high school (the one with the French chocolates) had the best take on why Rove replied to me.

So when I saw that I was the only person that he said anything to, I felt kind of bad. I mean, I told an old man to shut the fuck up and kick puppies. Maybe he likes puppies. Maybe his dog just died. Maybe he had a speech impediment as a child that he really struggled with so he could speak normally today. And here I was, telling him to shut up and go kick lovable puppies.

I felt really bad, you guys.

:(

But then I remembered that I was brown, a woman, and a Muslim, and he was evil, and then I didn’t feel so bad.

:)

God.

Only on Twitter could a clueless person like me be rude to a member of a former administration and have it mean something. (Not that it means very much at all; let’s just be clear.)

But anyway, it was just something funny that happened to me. Not as funny as the three Trojans I found in my Corporations book after I bought it from the bookstore, which I’ll tell you about later, but still. It was funny and stupid and I wanted to tell you guys about it because I feel you know all the funny and stupid things about me already and you’ve come to expect such conduct from your not-so-friendly neighborhood Hoomster.

Blah. Twitter is RIDICULOUS, you guys. I hate it, but I can’t walk away, because I also get some use and enjoyment out of it. But rest assured, it is ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as babies. (THEIR EYES MAKE UP LIKE HALF OF THEIR HEADS AND THAT IS NOT NATURAL WHAT DO THEY THINK THEY ARE CHARACTERS IN A MANGA?!)

Anyway, we’re all tricked into thinking that our conversations on Twitter mean something. They don’t. Twitter is just made up of a bunch of us psychos saying stupid things. It doesn’t mean anything. But it’s fun, so we keep doing it, even though we complain about it. Meh. We are complicated people, you guys.

Also, let’s be honest about this, too: Karl Rove has probably dispatched a drone to my house. I am, after all, brown. It’s just par for the course as far as he ‘s concerned. So if I disappear in the near future, ask Uncle Karl.

You’ll probably find him sitting on a pyramid of my root beer cans.

>:(

THOSE ARE ANTIQUE CANS UNCLE KARL. GOD.

What?