I am autistic. I have Asperger’s. I am rarely appropriate. After being on Twitter for more than a decade watching thousands of Twitter scrolls scrolling, it’s a stim, and accomplishes what. Treachery is a blood worm. The body politik has been breached. There is no there there. If Twitter disappeared tomorrow, democracy would survive. Content moderation by gatekeeping is a dirty job, but no one should be doing it because it is so seriously offensive. I laugh at the murder threats. I laugh at being told by the Twitter Bitters they have guns and they will use them. Like I don’t know that. I am so far off the Appalachian dirt road that you need a dirt bike or a horse to get up here, and then you have to walk. I am a troll walking. I get told they will get my kids in school. My kids are in their forties. I get pictures of dead bodies, tarantulas having sex, bullets, rope, knives, Bibles, and 99.999% of these people call themselves Christians. Pit bulls. Just because they want to kill you is ephemeral. Bring it on. I fight. I definitely fight back with people who are like me – it’s hard to adapt. Find me. Whoever writes this stuff is demented, patently absurd, and beneath contempt. Any of the above can get you kicked off the New York Times in a generic, homogenized piffle. Comments are a snapshot. Instead of going after the obvious on Twitter, the New York Times does cut off ideas, speech, and editing does, indeed, happen, especially when they kick you off. Editing by exclusion. Twitter is not the problem. The New York Times is.