Being a card-carrying, publicly professed Google addict; I use Google for almost everything. To my wife’s growing dismay, the words “google me” fly from my mouth with little disregard of consequences, especially during Jeopardy. I find myself arguing with that urbane Alex Trabek on a fairly regular basis. Who does his fact checking anyway? We always take his answers for gospel, but I’m getting off track here.
Lately, “google me” has become a personal mantra of sorts when I believe myself to be correct. On the other side of the shiny penny, I even use this as my battle cry when sure that I’m full of malarkey. Nothing says ‘he’s mighty certain of himself’ more than throwing down the Google gauntlet. Alas, my wife, all-knowing and not-to-be-trifled-with, normally accepts the challenge….she googles me. She calls to carpet any unusual claim that I make or any downright lie that I tell; whether it be for a laugh or simply to prove a point, she always calls me on it. Sometimes, I am right. Other times, I am completely wrong.
Today, I made a laughable claim to some co-workers (mind you this was in jest). I proclaimed that if you googled the word Google, it would cause a catastrophic world-wide web disaster. The internet would suck itself into a digital black hole. It would be the equivalent of traveling backwards through time to your childhood and smothering yourself with a pillow as you slept (kind of a crude analogy, but you get where I’m goin’). Of course, no one believed me. Why would they? I was simply making a joke. But…my addition is strong and my willpower weak. As soon as I clocked out, I ousted my laptop from its fancy Swiss army bag, called up my beloved google, and pressed the following keys: g..o..o..g..l..e. I then pressed enter.
A low hum began to emanate from my HP. Shaken, I tried to exit my web browser. It froze. The familiar google webpage remained locked on my desktop, menacing in its omnipotence. From the top of my display, I noticed a bright blue light. My web-cam had sprung to life, seemingly by itself. I tried to free myself from the relentless pull of the vast white background surrounding that familiar empty rectangle of power. My eyes remained transfixed on the screen. My grip tightened upon the sleek body of my laptop. I watched, frozen, as the screen filled with dizzying blurs of codex, digital daggers ripping at the fabric of the internet. Before my watery eyes, Google died a Cesarian death, impaled on the floor of the twenty first century Senate. As I watched the glorious web fold into itself; I wondered what had I done. Then, my webcam shot a laser beam into my left eye and I passed out.
Seriously, true story.