Withering Glance: Tweeting our way to the top

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.

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.