Guest Blog Post by @lesliecarbone

To paraphrase Tom Lehrer, twitter is like a sewer: What you get out of it depends on what you put in to it. I’m truly grateful for the many tweeps who help keep the solitary life of this freelance consultant from becoming too lonesome. Many thanks to @markdavidson for this opportunity to guest post and for being one of my favorite tweeps!

I first learned about twitter from @newmediajim last year at a Direct Marketing Association of Washington meeting; I started tweeting soon after and was genuinely surprised when people started following me pretty quickly.

Perhaps the best unforeseen benefit of twitter has been the opportunity to connect with so many tweeps from the greater Boston area, especially over Red Sox games. Though I’ve been living in Virginia for nearly 20 years, I grew up in Massachusetts, and it’s so nice to build relationships with people from my native commonwealth, even as I feel pangs of homesick envy when they tweet about going to Fenway Park.

Besides Red Sox games, my favorite thing to tweet is political events. The primary debates were especially fun, and I can’t wait to tweet and argue and laugh over the upcoming conventions and general debates with my fellow poli-tweeps.

Through @jptrenn, twitter brought me the great opportunity to participate in My ooVoo Day-Political Edition. I hosted a chat on whether conservatives should support John McCain—imo NO! The following night, I held a session on how conservatives should improve our use of social media, with tweeps @jennsierra, @ccubedblogger, and @morningbrewva.

Little did any of us on the latter chat know that twitter would really prove its mettle less than a day later with the start of the #dontgo movement. When Speaker Nancy Pelosi adjourned the House without action to lower gas prices, House Republicans staged a protest, staying in the House chamber and giving speeches on the importance of increasing domestic oil production. But the Democrats, who control Congress, shut off the cameras and even the lights. So word of the Republican Revolt spread through twitter!

But that’s half the fun of twitter. You just never know what’ll happen next.

 

Leslie Carbone is the author of Slaying Leviathan: The Moral Case for Tax Reform (Potomac, 2009). Her work has appeared in magazines including The Weekly Standard and The American Enterprise, in newspapers from The Philadelphia Inquirer to The San Francisco Chronicle, and on Web sites like BreakPoint and National Review Online.

She has appeared on more than 200 radio and television talk shows, been quoted in national newspapers including The Wall Street Journal and USA Today, and lectured at more than 100 campuses across the United States and in Canada, including Northwestern University, UCLA, and Cornell University.

Ms. Carbone has served as Chief-of-Staff to the late Assemblyman Gil Ferguson of California, Director of Family Tax Policy at Family Research Council, Senior Writer at Koch Industries, Inc., and Speechwriter for U.S. Secretary of Labor Elaine L. Chao.

If you’ve enjoyed Leslies’s guest post on digital culture, please consider reading some of the other articles she’s written or has appeared in on the web.

Leslie Carbone on Writers Net.

Leslie Carbone on Roots Wire.

Leslie Carbone on Union Leader.

Leslie Carbone on Righty Blogs.

Leslie Carbone on Town Hall.

Guest Blog Post by @junkdnafiction

The late autumn evening air filled the monk’s lungs with a chill the fire around which he sat was unable to dissipate. The heavy-handed presence of evil he had experienced since entering the woods surrounding this mountain village had not bothered to conceal itself from him.

“The hellspawn has devoured four of the village’s young women in the past two weeks, leaving their desiccated bodies to drip from trees. It feasted on their innards, rend the meat from their bones…”

The village elder lost himself in his recollection, revisiting the horror through his mind’s eye. Trapped by what he had seen. Not wishing to relive it, yet unable to let it go. Horrified and fascinated simultaneously. A vision beyond all imagined nightmares so horrible one must look upon for the brain to comprehend the reality of the situation.

There was no doubt in the monk’s mind of the demon’s origin. It was a Rasetsu. A devourer of human beings. A powerful demon that reveled in the kill. The flesh of humans was as sweet as any fruit to it.

The old man returned from his unspeakable vision and spoke once more to his guest the monk, a holy man called from a revered temple in the next province. “We turned to you for two reasons-you are a holy man and a samurai.”

“I was a samurai,” corrected the monk. “I left the path of the samurai when I joined the temple.”

“But you will forever retain your skills. You have the strength and cunning of samurai, and the wisdom and ways of a monk. We are doubly blessed by your decision to come.”

While there was truth in the words, the grim shadow of hallowed expectation darkened the room a shade. It was not his place to argue with the village elder. Furthermore, one way or another, the village would need taking care of. He could not allow this demon Rasetsu to continue to devour the flesh of innocents. Who knew what vile violations it visited upon their souls once they tried to escape its power for the safety of Heaven.

The last of the elder’s words rang in his ears before he slept that evening… “We wish you to save us from this monster.”

He had, of course, agreed.

The next morning the monk began rigorous rituals that included incantations, meditation, the studying of script scrolls, and collecting a tiny memento from each villager-of which there were nearly forty. The job they were asking would take every ounce of power he held in both the heavenly and earthly realms to defeat this eater of men and violator of souls.

For two nights and days he prepared himself for the single most taxing task of his career as either warrior or holy man. When it was through, he spoke once more with the village elder.

“I am ready.”

“Is there anything we can do to aide you?”

The monk’s face went grim with determination, “There is.”

The old man was immediately attentive.

“No matter what hellish screams are heard. No matter what horrors might be imagined. No villager must leave his or her home. In fact, I insist every villager bed early to get the best rest possible.”

“This is all?”

The monk’s voice was deeply earnest, “This is the path to salvation for the village. If I should be disturbed at any point during my task, then you are all doomed to a hell of Rasetsu tortures for eternity.”

Nodding his understanding, the elder quickly rounded up the heads of each household, and relayed the instructions of the monk. They all agreed to obey without question.

That evening, as the deep night held the village in its cold embrace, the once-samurai now-monk said a final prayer before he entered the home of each village family to send them directly to Heaven by slitting their throats as they slept.

© 2008, Made in DNA

Made in DNA is an American short story author living in Japan and writes serial fiction on Twitter. Made in DNA has been recognized by comic book author @warrenellis on WarrenEllis.com and on Warren Ellis’ LiveJournal.

If you’ve enjoyed Made in DNA’s guest post on Twitter Stars, his ebook, Media Whores is available at lulu.com as a download for $1.00.

A man, a woman, the yakuza, and zombie sex, all part of an original bizarro microfiction short story first serialized on Twitter and then touted across the blogosphere.

Serialized and short fiction blog of Made in DNA. Feel free to tumble my work.

“I channel my muse in a little known, yet up and coming, genre called BIZARRO (twisted fiction). It is heavily poisoned with cyberpunk, hardboiled, noir elements, and Japanese culture. I like it like that.”