Essay Like Nephew Twitter

Armie Hammer has been talking about his decision to abruptly quit Twitter as he continues to promote his film Call Me By Your Name.

He deleted his account on the social media platform this week after a scathing article published by BuzzFeed, posting one final tweet to the author slamming her for the 'bitter AF' piece.

'I just have no impulse control,' the actor, 31, said at a screening of the movie hosted by The Wrap on Tuesday. 'So if somebody says something stupid, I couldn’t help but say something back and then it just exploded.'

No regrets: Armie Hammer blamed a lack of impulse control on his decision to delete his Twitter account this week but said he life 'is way better off' as a result of quitting the platform

Hammer went on to say he's glad he made the move to remove himself from the Twitter-verse. 

'This is a toxic environment and my life is way better off,' he said. 

'People are so addicted and into Twitter, it seems crazy that someone could walk away from it! They’re like, wait, he DELETED IT? It was actually really easy,' he added.

The BuzzFeed essay by the site's senior culture writer titled Ten Long Years of Trying to Make Armie Hammer Happen posited that the great-grandson of oil tycoon Armand Hammer owed his career to being a privileged white man. 

In response, Hammer addressed a tweet to author Anne Helen Peterseon:  'Your chronology is spot on but your perspective is bitter AF. Maybe I’m just a guy who loves his job and refuses to do anything but what he loves to do…?'

He then deleted his account.

Hammer, 31, quit Twitter after slamming BuzzFeed for an article it published about him claiming his career is owed to being a privileged white man. He told The Wrap Tuesday: 'People are so addicted and into Twitter, it seems crazy that someone could walk away from it! They’re like, wait, he DELETED IT? It was actually really easy'

'Your persepctive is bitter AF': The actor, 31, tweeted on last time before deleting his account, addressing a message to the author of the article 

The article recounted Hammer's career and the film roles he got, the ones that he was promised but didn't materialize, and the fact he continued to be offered roles despite appearing in a string of flops over the years.

The premise was that he kept getting 'second chances' because of his privileged background and the color of his skin.

While the fact that he was able to inhabit the role of 'rich a**hole' was because he had had a lot of practice in his real life. 

And despite his string of blockbuster failures: 'Hollywood would never give up on a guy that handsome, that tall, that white, with a jaw that square.' 

Wealthy family: The premise of the article was that Hammer, who is the great-grandson of oil tycoon Amrna dHammer,  kept getting 'second chances' despite starring in flops because of his privileged background and the color of his skin. He's pictured Monday night in NYC with wife Elizabeth Chambers,

Hammer, whose film Call Me by Your Name (pictured) won best picture at the Gotham Awards in New York this week, hit out at the essay titled Ten Long Years of Trying to Make Armie Hammer Happen

Following the feud, fans flocked to Twitter in droves to call out BuzzFeed and express support for the actor.

One user described the article as 'straight up nasty' and tweeted: 'Just attacking an actor and his career for absolutely no reason... And now he's left Twitter because of it. Not coll at all.'

Another fan wrote on Twitter: 'Going after Armie Hammer for being a good due that manages to keep getting work despite a bomb or two is the definition of picking the wrong fight.' 

Fans of the star defended him on Twitter. One user described the article as 'straight up nasty' and tweeted: 'Just attacking an actor and his career for absolutely no reason... And now he's left Twitter because of it. Not cool at all.'

Some Twitter users called out BuzzFeed for its 'nasty' article. 'Going after Armie Hammer for being a good due that manages to keep getting work despite a bomb or two is the definition of picking the wrong fight.'

Hammer is on the cover of the new issue of The Hollywood Reporter talking about the abuse perpetrated by people in positions of power in Hollywood

Meanwhile, Hammer is on the cover of the new issue of The Hollywood Reporter talking about the abuse perpetrated by people in positions of power in Hollywood. 

'It’s been permissible for too long for people in positions of power to abuse, and for the powerless to be expected to just take it,' he told the trade publication.

'The system seems to be shaken, and thank God,' he added. 

Armand Hammer: The great-grandfather and wealthy oil tycoon 

Armand Hammer: The great-grandfather and wealthy oil tycoon whose fortune Armie Hammer benefited from as a child

Armand began his career forging close ties with the Soviet Union, meeting with Lenin to deliver pharmaceuticals  and wheat in return for furs and caviar.

His business, growing swiftly, saw him mingling with high-society in Eastern Europe and Britain, as well as at home in New York.

Diversifying his portfolio, he entered into the oil production efforts, which were were later parlayed into control of Occidental Petroleum. 

Making multiple millions of dollars in his efforts, he controversially traveled between the US and the Soviet Union forging close ties with Soviet officials during the Cold War. He was labeled a traitor and spy for his efforts, though others, including Mikhail Gorbachev said he was a reason behind the thawing of Cold War tensions.

Hammer indulged in business, art, cultural, and humanitarian endeavors before his death in 1990, aged 92. 

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Correction appended, Sept. 8, 2014.

On June 1 of this year I resolved to take a break from all social media. No Twitter, no Facebook. No visiting click-bait video sites, news aggregators, or any link with the words “… you won’t BELIEVE …” in the title. I logged off on June 1st and planned my return for Tuesday, September 2.

In the first week alone I dropped 15 pounds, re-watched Krzysztof Kieslowski’s The Decalogue, built a sustainable small-yield garden for my daughter, and learned knife throwing. By the second week I’d read all three volumes of Karl Ove Knausgaard’s My Struggle, completed a triathlon, and cooked the first half of Marcus Samuelsson’s Aquavit cookbook. By week three I had melded my consciousness with the sphere-bleed of galactic central point’s sentient Time Shell and hiked the Andes.

Actually, I spent the first week silently lurking on Twitter, checking my “@” mentions, visiting the feeds of people I both love and despise. I did the usual Google searches of my name and played game after game of GemCraft: Chasing Shadows. I gained weight. I started but still haven’t finished Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall, Herman Melville’s Moby Dick, and Howard Cruse’s Stuck Rubber Baby. I still clicked on videos. Visited my usual news aggregate haunts. Wasted time.

The second and third week weren’t much different, but … they weren’t the same. A couple of times, in line at a grocery store or coffee shop, instead of taking out my phone to stiff-arm the creeping ennui, I’d look around instead. At the world. At the people around me. Most of them looking at their phones. We now inhabit a planet where the majority of the population is constantly staring downwards, entranced, twiddling like carpenter ants. Do pickpockets know they’re living in a second renaissance?

Sometimes I’d catch the gaze of a holdout like me. A freak without a phone. Adrift in this gallery of bowed heads. A teenager, whose phone had probably died. Or a slightly older “millennial,” probably waiting for a video to load. But they were unique and far between. It was, mostly, people my age, and older—stooped, staring statues, peeping at windows in their palms.

Once I’d gotten past the first month, though, I noticed an interesting pattern. By this point I rarely looked at my phone. The only times I’d use Twitter was to re-Tweet a link to a project I was involved in, or help promote a friend’s documentary, or fund­raising effort, or album release. My phone only came out of my pocket if I needed to call someone or, more often, text someone. More and more, my eyes met the world. At eye level.

Those holdout freaks I talked about? The teen whose phone battery I assumed had died? Or the older millennial I assumed was downloading a video? They were the ones not using their phones. They had the strongest immunity to the devices’ pull. It was the older people, the over-40s like me, and those way older, who couldn’t escape the tiny gravity of connection constantly yanking us out of existence.

Maybe it’s because this younger generation doesn’t have the demarcation we have—of a world before cell phones and then after. It was always there for them. So it’s not a novelty. And thus has less power. They don’t remember the endorphin rush of sudden connectivity, like when people my age first logged onto dial-up Internet and, after 10 minutes, sheepishly searched for their own name. Or the first time we received an email. And when those things happened on our phones? It was like the apes touching the monolith at the beginning of 2001.

I really enjoyed these three months away. Slowly weaning myself off of social media has, ironically, made me feel younger. At least, I have the habits of a much younger person now. I used social media—at least for these past 90 days—at the frequency of a 20 year old. Occasionally, like it wasn’t some exotic novelty, and didn’t need to be consumed like a wine whose supply was finite.

Here’s a thought—what if the next fashionable rebellion, from whatever generation rears its head after the millennials, is to become “unlinked.” Only reachable face-to-face. Hmm.

I think I’m going to do this every summer. June 1 to post–Labor Day. Eyes up, logged off. Remember how, in The Matrix, mankind had become batteries, so the machines could feed off of us? Well, it’s happening now, just 140 characters at a time. It’s too late to go back, but you can carve out three hot months to recharge.

Oswalt is a stand-up comedian, writer and actor.

Correction: The original version of this story misstated the maximum length of a tweet.

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