As everyone ran to export and delete their Twitter data in waves when Apartheid Clyde came to town, I sat back and watched with a chuckle from my cozy perch on my Mastodon instance. You see, I’d already done all that months ago, as the site had continued to fester into a sad pile of misery, even without a lot of the banned bad actors. And there were rumors that ol’ Space Karen wanted to throw money he didn’t have at buying the site, simply to prove how small… erm… fragile his ego is. I was high and dry with a place to watch the show begin. And as we’ve seen, it’s been a dumpster fire driving a car wreck into a freight train about to scream off an unfinished bridge. And lo, we all laughed, for the failure was hilarious.
Until we learned Twitter’s data was for sale on the dark web. Oh, we laughed about it, those of us who never DMed private info, those of us who knew we’d deleted everything. Until the data came back to haunt us in the weirdest ways.
