7 Celebrities Who Are Hilariously Awful At Twitter
Everyone uses social media only because everyone else uses social media. This includes the famous everyones. All famous people have PR reps who tell them they should talk to non-famous people, and the best way to do that is on things like Twitter and Facebook and Instaquad and Pintaqueef and so on forever.
The problem is, once all the filters are taken off, we're left with the terrifying knowledge that the only thing separating us from those we idolize is the number of zeroes on our paychecks. If nothing else, social media has given us plenty of evidence that celebrities are just as existentially confused as the rest of us.
Dave Matthews' Twitter Account Perfectly Symbolizes His Career (Unfortunately)
If you've never gazed into the folksy-jazzy blue-grassy poppycock abyss of Dave Matthews' Twitter account, you're missing out on a sight slightly worse than that one time in 2004 his tour bus dumped 800 pounds of feces over a bridge onto sightseeing tourists below. You're missing Dave himself dumping metaphorical feces right into your brain tubes. Like Matthews' career, his Twitter hasn't been active since 2010. But in its prime, it was really a sight to behold, the sort of thing that would make Jaden Smith jealous of its non-sequiturs and general incomprehensibility.
The most mind-blowing part are the words "no pot."
Did any of that mean anything at all? Was Dave on medication? Was this code to let us know he was being held against his will, and we all failed him so he's actually been dead since 2010? We'll probably never know. Or maybe this will clue us in:
Thirty-one people saw Dave Matthews saying, "Hello," and thought,
"Oh, hahaha, that is priceless. Oh my God. Gotta let the world know."
That was definitely code for something, but more than likely it was a message to the guy who supplies Dave with mescaline and canned air, rather than for fans or authorities. His final posting in 2010 was just a link to this video that depicts what happens when animation software falls into the hands of people who know what gasoline tastes like.
That was the last we heard of ol' Dave. We'll probably never hear from him again. Oh well, next.
Samuel L. Jackson Can't Take Selfies
Sam Jackson is famous for being a bad motherfucker. We hear he may have a wallet that confirms this. He's also gracious enough to share his em-effery with us on social media, and for that we will always be grateful ... as soon as we figure out what's wrong with his camera.
"I don't go on camera unless I'm being paid. Even my own."
Sammy J. shares a hell of a lot of selfies to let his fans know where he is and what he's doing, but the thing is, he's either the worst selfie taker in the history of that stupid word or the absolute best in a sort of subversively meta awesome way that our 3D brains can't comprehend. If it was one or two pics, you could chalk it up to hasty photography or a mistake, but he's got dozens and dozens of images that are all the same:
Thank you, sir! My friends would never believe I met ... a forehead. Fuck."
Notice a pattern here? Jackson is like Waldo in every one of his photos, just peeking out from the side or the corner. It doesn't seem to matter where he is, when it's taken, or what he's doing. It's like even cameras are afraid of him. We would pin this on Instagram's software not knowing what to do with pictures that don't depict overpriced food, but it also happens on Twitter:
It's entirely possible Jackson and his phone just met and neither understands the other at all. Either that or this is the single greatest joke Jackson has ever conceived, and he laughs each and every time he posts it the way your dad used to laugh when he farted in the car on a hot day.
Chris Rock Loves Memes
Technically, there's no harm in reposting memes on your Twitter or Facebook. They're out there, and they probably don't cause cancer. You could have worse habits, like making memes for a living. It's even OK that comedian Chris Rock posts them -- he's a comedian, so he should like funny things. Rock's problem with memes is like a baby's problem with household items. He thinks he owns all of them, and considering how often he posts them, he might think he literally needs them for sustenance. If you peruse Rock's timeline you'll see he doesn't just post memes often ...
Only the Richard Pryor of his generation could pick these fine memes.
... he posts them damn near every other Tweet. There comes a time when the hilarious one-sentence observations of the people of Reddit slapped onto a picture of Gary Coleman or a cat are just not that funny anymore. And, for the record, this is the real Chris Rock, not the inexplicably popular fake Australian one that posts self-help bullshit and blatant plagiarism (whom we're not linking to, because fuck that guy).
Something tells us that last one wasn't written by one of the most recognizable people on the planet.
Even more bizarre than Rock's love of memes is his hatred for people who produce memes. For unknown and legally questionable reasons, every meme gets posted with a little "copyright Chris Rock" at the bottom, which is kind of like taking someone else's dinner and telling them it's yours because you have it now. Someone took the time to slap that little notice on every single one, which means Rock never even posts these memes on a whim -- he's not just seeing them and thinking, "Ha!" and then tweeting; he's probably having some PR person make it unofficially official and then posting it in complete disregard for how copyright (and, curiously, humor) works. He'll even post it right next to copyrights from the sites he got the pictures from, a gutsy move in the world of meme thievery.
Some people are just shameless.
Martha Stewart Can't Make Her Food Look Good
What comes to mind when you think of Martha Stewart? A hardened felon? An Orange Is The New Black-type situation where every day she takes her short, sensible haircut and knowing smirk into the showers with the other ladies and coyly watches the meth addicts soaping their breasts, knowing how easy it is to manipulate their junkie minds to get what she wants while stringing them along with flowery promises for a life of luxury once they get out, but first they have to do some favors? Some clam-shucking favors? Yeah, that's what you think of.
You should also know that Martha Stewart, for all her business acumen, lifestyle-guru-ry, and cooking know-how, takes a photo about as well as a drunken tourist trying to get that perfect shot of themselves holding up the Leaning Tower of Pisa. While her food may be delicious, the pictures she takes of said food often come out looking like shit on a shingle. Behold: onion soup with baguette croutons, not a photo of a toilet that suffered terminal velocity splash-back:
If the dish included corn it would be completely indistinguishable.
Next on the menu is a wedge of iceberg with Russian dressing and not, as you'd assume, what was left of that red-haired dude who smashed into the vat of toxic waste in RoboCop:
Those little lumps are his teeth.
Martha labeled this "Hotate uni miso at En brasserie," so you just learned how to describe the flattened, empty egg pod of an alien facehugger in another language; isn't that cool?
Incidentally, if you prick it with a fork, it wheezes out, "Kill me."
And why not celebrate the next installment of the epic Fallout game series with this mildly irradiated mutant stew served in a delicate broth of cream and bile:
This is what she says to haters instead of "fuck you."
For the more adventurous, what we have here is a sampler of different kinds of shit. Runny shit, lumpy shit, discolored shit, pebble shits, and shit spaetzle. That one's special -- try it with the shit sauce. Shitastic!
What part of the home, though?
Republican Senator Chuck Grassley Is Inscrutable
If you're not familiar with Chuck Grassley, get ready to be entertained. This guy has all the stage presence of a young Yakov Smirnoff with the comedy chops of grandma off her meds and loose in a Walmart. Grassley is a Republican from Iowa who staunchly opposes Obamacare, flag-burning, absenteeism (he hasn't missed roll call in the Senate in over 20 years), and sanity. He is diametrically opposed to sanity.
If you read his Twitter feed, you might begin to wonder if the man is even aware he has Twitter and if it's not just somehow linked to his keyboard when he flies into fits of political rage and just begins smashing it like a filibustering Hulk. Have a look!
It's rare to find a politician that's so search-engine-savvy.
This reads like the stream-of-consciousness poem from the world's first sentient poli-sci bot shortly before it shot itself. What do these words have in common, and what is Chuck trying to tell us? It's as though he were making his own National Treasure and you need to decipher these clues to find Washington's secret stash of dusty, colonial porno mags.
What the f- oh, we thought he said, "Iran Welfare Energy Buns." Now it makes sense.
This one follows the same pattern with the addition of a hashtag, so we can confirm he actually knows he's on Twitter; he just doesn't know why. Is he simply listing all the words he's read in the paper today? Things he likes? Double Word scores from Scrabble?
Someone had to say it.
This is where shit gets deep for Grassley. No longer can he communicate in merely incomplete thoughts; dude needs incomplete words. Assemble them all to get a secret message from Little Orphan Annie! And finally, here he is being assimilated by the Borg mid-sentence:
We're having Superman III ending flashbacks.
Madonna Is Promoting Her New Album In Baffling Ways
If you were to go back over Madonna's career with a fine-toothed comb, you might be able to pinpoint the actual day the Material Girl metamorphosed into the reincarnation of your kooky eighth-grade gym teacher to everyone but her most ardent fans. And her latest efforts have included the promotion of her new album in a way that can be best described as, "Fuck is this?" while you comically arch an eyebrow for effect. Madonna's new album, Rebel Heart, was teased on Instagram with this photo:
And on that day, all religions were united (in telling Madonna to fuck off).
That's a Jewish fella and a Muslim fella about to get all up in each others' grills and suck some mortal-enemy tongues. She posted it with the caption "This image is 100 #rebelhearts," which essentially means nothing. In and of itself, advertising your new album with an image that comes from the ad campaign for Tel Aviv-based gay parties (seriously) is perfectly fine, if you're Madonna. It does evoke some rebellious imagery, so maybe she was onto something. And whatever that was, she fell right off with her follow-up Instagram video featuring her and her "sock bitch" in bed:
This looks like a real-life version of when they add MS Paint drawings over porn.
For those who aren't sure what a sock bitch is, it seems to be a sock puppet used in and around the word "bitch." Madonna, all dressed up to eat cookies in bed, is accosted by the sock, and they have a little meet-and-greet before the sock lists off the cities it wants to see Madonna perform. Madonna assures it, bitch, that she'll be everywhere, because it's a world tour. So it's a tour about controversial imagery and Middle East peace, but also sock puppets with foul mouths. But all of this is perfectly rational compared to ...
Holy Shit, Cher
If you're under 20, you may have no idea what or who a Cher is. If you're over 20, you at least know what Cher used to be before she was eaten sometime in the '90s by an enraged autotune machine and forced to merge with it to create the world's most final touringest cyborg-singer of all time.
These days, Cher spends her time on Twitter, trying to see how many ways she can arrange letters generally recognized by English-speaking peoples into shartzophrenic hyper-babble. Some of the Tweets seem like they means things, but probably only in the context of whatever is likely happening in Cher's underground bunker.
Cher was quickly fired as the writer of CNN's news crawl.
Part of Cher's problem is that she seems to be addressing real-time issues, but in the most emojified fashion imaginable. Like her penchant for using chicken emojis to represent her followers. At other times she busts out cartoon emojis for totally inappropriate messages, like this one from after the Charleston church shooting:
If Cher can't understand, what hope does humanity have?
Are cartoon guns and Wile E. Coyote-style explosions really the best way to address a mass murder? And then there's just the myriad questionable posts that make no sense whatsoever, like this:
Experts recommend that you limit teabagging sessions to under four hours.
We're more concerned about what the doctors didn't give you.
Some Tweets make more sense if you discover the correct sequence:
No caption we write could make a funnier punchline than the increasing retweet numbers.
Basically, Cher just got switched on one day in the 1960s and has been unable to stop since, the result of which is that her logic and coherence tanks are running empty and she's coasting entirely on the fumes of madness.
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