Researchers have studied the effects of substances like alcohol and tobacco on organs like the liver and the lung. Inspired by past findings, scientists wished to study the effects of Twitter use on a mildly important organ: the brain.
Finding the right candidate was a challenge until they came across a 20-year-old male who goes by the initials A.M. They performed an MRI scan on his brain. The results were staggering.
Upon comparison with a normal brain, scientists found that A.M.’s frontal lobe had reduced to the size of a pea. The frontal lobe is responsible for personality, thinking, planning and problem solving. It was apparent that A.M.’s ability to do such things was limited. The temporal lobe was also affected, albeit not as much. The temporal lobe affects speech and hearing.
Not wanting to miss out on the scoop, I tried talking to A.M. He agreed to spend time with me. As I tried introducing myself, A.M. seemed intent on interrupting every sentence of mine. As I was telling him about my path to journalism to try and break the ice, he kept saying “couldn’t be me sadly + cringe.” I tried demanding that he let me speak, but all he kept saying was “ratio + L bozo.” When I stopped speaking, he exclaimed “bodied that neek!”
He then pulled out his phone and started scrolling through Twitter, only stopping to mutter “slay” whenever he saw what I assumed was an attractive person. He had never felt the touch of a woman.
I tried interacting with him based on the tweets he was liking. I saw he liked an NBA related tweet. He then started tweeting. Not satisfied with dissing just one superstar, he went at multiple at once. When asking him who his favorite player is, he said, “not LeFraud or Harchoke or Westbrick. It’s Luka Magic for me,” before proceeding to prepare copypastas to diss the superstars he just listed. Such monikers extended to other sports like soccer and Formula 1. Family and friends weren’t spared either.
I was amazed to see his brain at work. His ability to create the most nonsensical disses and words was unmatched. He even communicated in the form of bizarre videos and laughed at memes that made no sense to me, all of which were wrapped under several layers of Twitter exclusive context. I realized linguists could benefit from studying him, just as much as scientists. When trying to engage with him on more serious matters, he was more receptive, but not necessarily in a good way. He aggressively attacked me for things I did not say.
Things truly came to a head when I asked him about his choice of juice and said I enjoyed apple juice. He started shaking his fists and stomping his feet, shouting at me for calling orange juice bad. I was about to respond by saying that I never called orange juice bad, but then I remembered the MRI scan results.
I left at that moment, pleased with the information I had gathered, but flustered by A.M.’s demeanor.
He did leave one last present for me. Somehow, he found my Twitter account and left the following tweet under my latest: “Who is Anupras? To the blind, he is darkness. To the hungry, he is hunger. To the prisoner, he is a prison cell. To the poor, he is poverty.” Thankfully, it is now spring, and he can go outside and touch some grass.
Here is all I say to all parents reading this: Please save your children from Twitter. You do NOT want to see your kid enter goblin mode. It is simply not worth the brain rot.