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Those frequent readers of my blog (thanks, Mom!) will have surely noticed my Twitter timeline syndicated on the right-hand side of the page. And with the exception of the occasional tweet about the weather, the bulk of my twitter musings are, indeed, quite political in nature.

Naturally, people ask why I tweet. After all, I’m but a lowly cook. What do I care about #cdnpoli#climatechange#Syria, or #robocalls, for example?

Well, I care quite a bit — and not simply because I used to be paid to do so. (See my yet-to-be-written memoir: A Decade in Politics: How I Flushed My 20s Down the Toilet.) I care because politics — the science, the acts, the philosophies, the arts, the issues — are in my blood. They’re in yours, too.

Everything is political.

It is impossible to avoid politics: in the family, the classroom, the playground, the workplace, the neighbourhood, the city, the province, country, the continent, the planet; on television and the Internet, in movies and music, on billboards and bus benches, in newspapers and magazines; between classes, ethnicities, faiths, cultures. Politics informs and affects everything we do, say, think, feel.

Yet, despite its ubiquity, too many people willfully ignore it. I tried to do so — and nearly succeeded for almost five years.

When I threw in the towel — sweat-stained, bloodied, in tatters — of my political career in the spring of 2008, bolting from Parliament Hill like a patient fleeing the asylum, I resolved I’d never again let politics infect my blood and being. It had spread like a virus, consuming my days, my nights, my thoughts, my dreams, the every beat of my compromising, conflicted, constricted heart.

Time and distance, however, are remarkable things. They soften the toughest grudge, the hardest heart. And they have certainly allowed me the chance to reengage with the politics of my own everyday life — aided by this remarkable little thing called Twitter.

Yes, 140 characters are all I need to satisfy that visceral urge to comment and connect, engage and entertain, opine and express outrage. Twitter, simply put, is a pressure-release valve for the mind.

Why do I tweet?

To prevent my head from exploding.

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We had a good run, didn’t we? Two and a half years ain’t bad.

We had our moments: mistagged photos, incorrectly spelled updates, thoughtless pokes. And yet, we managed to remain civil, cordial even.

And think of the friends we shared; nearly 400!

It was bound to end, though. We’re no good for each other. You, always wanting more… information, friends, updates. Me, suspicious of your true intentions, yet drawn in by a network of friends that literally spans the globe (and a mild case of voyeurism).

Oh well. No hard feelings.

I’ve been told you’ll be keeping a copy of all the information I’ve shared with you. That’s okay. I knew the risks; though I’m not sure how valuable my being a male, English-speaking, university-educated Winnipegger will be to you. But hey, go nuts!

Of course, if ever you — or any friends we shared — need to get a hold of me, you can find me here at krisade.ca, on Twitter (how else can I keep tabs on Sarah Silverman?), and through LinkedIn (because a professional networking site, sans photos, actually has some merit).

So, I guess that’s it then.

Adios, amigos.

Web 2.0 is reinventing how we communicate; how we think; how we do business and politics; how we travel, work, eat, shop, play.  And, since I’ve never been one to shy away from a bandwagon, I’ve gladly jumped aboard.

Blog?  Check.  Facebook? Check.  Twitter?  Check.  Linked In?  Check.  Last.fm?  Check.

I also recently registered with Dopplr, which is billed as a, “service for smart international travellers.”  Why add that to my already-burgeoning suite of social networks?  Why not!  I travel internationally and didn’t fall off the turnip truck recently, so I figured it couldn’t hurt.  Besides, I think the name is quite clever.

My next foray: Urbanspoon.

My friend Rachelle, whom I’ve mentioned previously, blogs about food and through Urbanspoon has the top-rated food blog in Ottawa.  While I doubt I will be able to achieve the same notoriety, I will certainly look to her for guidance and inspiration as I set off in search of new haunts in Winnipeg to replace the restaurants and bars I will be leaving behind when I bid farewell to Ottawa.

Stay tuned.

I’m sure you get this all the time, but I think you’re swell, Sarah Silverman. In fact, I think I love you.

I’m sure you’re already dialing your lawyer, readying the application for the restraining order. (I’m harmless!) It’s just, well, your tweets; they’re delightful.

Seriously.

If it weren’t for you, I’d probably cancel my Twitter account. I’d also laugh less. And since laughter has been proven to be beneficial to one’s health, I’d be sick too.

I guess what I’m trying to say, Sarah Silverman, is that you make me a better man.

I know I’m no match against Matt Damon, but I feel pretty good about my chances next to that schlub from late night television.