Twittless in Verona

This is what I'm missing by not twitting:

The latest harangue by the extremist of the day.
The whereabouts of people who need to tell you where they are.
And what they are doing.
And why they are doing it.
Unless, of course, they're revolting against an authoritarian regime.
Which political candidate is right.
Or very right.
Or not right enough.
Which candidate is wrong, and why.
And what should be done about him or her.
The latest gossip about someone I care nothing about.
What movies, plays, art films, and/or not so arty films you saw.
What you ate and drank while watching.
Who you were with and when.
Which clubs you couldn't get into.
Which clubs you did get into even though you didn't want to because they weren't “cool” enough.
But you had to go somewhere just to twit about it.
What you had for breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, drinks and other nourishment.
And if I’ve left something out, don't twit me about it.

I'm Twittless in Verona and plan to stay that way.