Sandbox

I’d like to talk today about the Twitter persona @dadboner, and for the many of you who have no idea who that is, just stop reading now.

@dadboner is Karl Welzein, an overweight, middle-aged man from Grand Blanc, Michigan, a nondescript town near Detroit with a Chili’s and an Applebee’s and not much else. Welzein works in middle management, is recently separated from his wife, Ann, and lives with a similarly single man named Dave. Their newest roommate, Peanut, is a formerly homeless man they took off the streets, because “having a real degenerate in the house could teach us a lot about ourselves.”

Welzein loves Bob Seger, top-shelf margaritas (“margs”) and Mango wings. He is profoundly unhappy, completely lacking in self-awareness and may be an alcoholic. Welzein is also a fictional character, created by an unknown writer who has attracted over 50,000 followers to @dadboner.

When you read a funny book, say, A Confederacy of Dunces, much of the humor comes from both the quirks and actions of Ignatius Reilly and his assorted acquaintances. The rest of the humor comes, obviously, from how the pseduo-intellectual Reilly will react to what is happening in his self-contained world. You read this on your own time, and when you finish the book, the humor ends. And since author John Kennedy Toole died 40 years ago, you’re not getting much more Reilly in the future.

In contrast, whoever is behind @dadboner can reveal Welzein’s personality in real time, 140 characters at a time. It’s arguably more enjoyable to consume than a medium-confined literary character. We laugh every time he abbreviates words he shouldn’t like “the cool dad” is wont to do, or when he wearily recounts another embarrassing encounter with the office toilet, then wearily concludes, “I’m just really ready for the weekend, you guys.”

It’s great writing, sure. But more importantly, it’s great writing without limits.