When Apartheid Emerald Mine Space Karen bought Twitter and began demolishing it from the inside, he kicked off a twexodus that continues apace. I was inspired by the gulf between his rhetoric and his reality to finally filk Shelley’s Ozymandias, my favourite poem of that whole era.
I met a visitor from the place of birds
Who said–“One white and Roman-fonted page
Glows in my browser… On it, see the words
Beneath that palindromic code, and gauge
The death of wealth: the hush of stifled nerds
Shows that its server lies now, coldly slept,
For all that once it dealt in bytes and bits,
The trolls that mocked you and the dread that crept;
And on that 404 these words appear:
My name is Freedom’s Champion, Chief of Twits
Look on my Speech, ye Wokists, and despair!
Nothing of flesh remains. Round Market Street
On that colossal Pile, towering there,
The grey and feral pigeons only tweet.