CP: In support of an atheistic outlook, consider your Twitter profile, and then mine.
RN: I'm curious to see where you're going with this.
CP: You have a tweets-to-follower ratio of 564 to 1,824. I have Tweeted 1,656 times and attracted just 473 followers. Would a just and beneficent Lord allow this? I dare say not.
RN: Perhaps your prodigious tweeting is not the "Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands" that the Psalms had in mind. Oh, and I've lured 1,341 more members of the Twitterati than you? Huh. I had no idea. Tell you what. I'll follow you. Then you'll have 474.
CP: No favors, please. And do not pretend you are not intimately familiar with your number of fanatical, foodie followers at any given millisecond. Of course, I saw that one of your followers -- briochebaby -- was "a Maine-based micro-blogger into yeast, gluten-free communion wafers and exotic drinking vinegars."
RN: Don't get me started on the twee-ness of Twitter bios. Apparently, I need to remind you that Twitter, like yoga, is not about competition. As for your 1,092 tweets over mine, I won't invoke the whole quality-over-quantity argument, but ...
CP: I tweet under tabletops during live shows at the Dakota, during yoga, in my car and from my bed. I'm tweeting when I should be eating, and yet my followership is less than a full house at the Cowles Center.
RN: Your diligence reminds me of the man standing next to me at an airport urinal who was doing you-know-what with his left hand, and thumbing his Android with his right. Count me one citizen of Twitter Nation who never wants to see "Voiding bladder at MSP!" in my feed.
CP: That's the classic Tweet-n-Pee -- otherwise known as productive use of downtime. Do you think maybe my tweets give off that lethal air of desperation?
RN: Perhaps if you stop wanting it so much, it will just happen. You know, like hoping for a spectacular bargain at Neiman Marcus' Last Call sale, or husband- hunting.
CP: Easy for you to say, with both a life partner and almost 2K followers. At least you are humble, only lording your Twitter superiority over me a couple of times a week.
RN: Well, someone has to keep you grounded, Mr. I-Have-A-Perfect-Side-Crow-Pose. But here's my question: Do my Twitter followers really care if I've just come across a fantastic root beer? Or fell hard for duck-fat fries?
CP: Apparently, they love you unconditionally.
RN: Everyone does, baby -- in and out of the blogosphere.