Searching for Meaning

This is the part where I post things. Maybe I waited this long because I don’t want any of this read by anyone, and I figured that, with so many people throwing so much other material out into virtual space, I could post and go completely unnoticed. That way, I get to feel like I’m making a contribution and engaging with the process without actually making any sort of noticeable mark at all. So why post at all? Someone will undoubtedly stumble across this while looking for sex dolls or how-to books on ethnic cleansing. But, then, sex dolls and ethnic cleansing are Urgent Topics, and the people looking for them are not apt to stop their search for anything. I really wanted to post something relevant, but before I get into anything like that, I need to expand on this notion of urgency on virtual space.

 

1. God Damn It, Google

Let’s say I’m surfing the web for one of my favorite topics, sex dolls. I go up to the corner of my browser and I click in the standard Google search box and type “sex dolls.” Thanks to modern search programming, as I type, Google tries to guess what I want based on popular searches. In my mind, when I’ve typed “sex dolls” in completely, I should have a list of other items, all starting with “sex dolls” and ending in modifiers like “porn star,” “sheep,” “inflatable,” and “monster dick.” So I am confused and dismayed when my Google bar presents me with the following.

 

What? That’s it? I feel so let down that I try and find solace in my other favorite pursuit, ethnic cleansing. Granted, the ol’ EC is kind of a sensitive topic for some, so I don’t go into my search with much hope, especially after the sex-doll letdown. I’m only going to get a list of modifiers like “Africa,” “genocide,” and “war crimes.” Booooring! But I soldier on because a man must remain true to himself. I type in “ethnic cleansing” and this is what I get.

 

Yes, sure, some of the boilerplate modifiers come up, but the second result on the list is “game,” and now I’m intrigued. In fact, if I wanted to and didn’t already have all seven seasons on Blu-Ray, I could download my favorite ethnic cleansing moments with my bit torrent client. It definitely takes some of the sting out of the lack of decent sex doll searches, though.

 

2. Do You Know Where Your Ads Are?

OK, maybe my box set of ethnic cleansing’s greatest hits got lost in the shuffle when I had to abandon my underground dungeon in the suburbs and move into my secret mountain hideaway. And I want them back. I need them back. But, of course, they’re out of print already and my only recourse is to fire up my bit torrent client and go fishing in the Pirate Bay.

Without getting into the legal debate over intellectual property and whatnot, I must acknowledge the absolutely massive balls of certain online advertisers. And I’m not talking about the persistent ads for ski masks that continue to adorn my browser after I once—just once—made a discreet online inquiry as to pricing and stain resistance. I’m talking about a small child brandishing broccoli. You know the one. “Aprenda como en http://www.MyPyramid.gov,” the ad copy reads, nestled between said broccoli-brandishing child and the USDA logo. Brought to you by the Ad Council. I’m glad that the US government has my health and fitness in mind as I sit here in my comfortable chair, but I must pause for a moment to ponder the oversight that went into placing government ads onto a website that has long been an irritation to certain governmental bodies.

This makes me paranoid—more so than normal, anyway. Would the US government do something, or hire someone else to do something contrary to its own interests? Is it a trick? Hard to tell. I don’t think I’m going to tempt fate. Time to look elsewhere.

 

3. All I Hear is Quack; All I See is Twat

Please excuse the crass subhead. It gets lonely in my secret mountain hideaway and I needed to shake myself out of my complacency, and now that the words are written, I find them oddly compelling.

To the point. I, while downloading a little of the ol’ EC and decontaminating my sex doll, sometimes need a release from the day’s stresses. I’m sure most of you understand. This is when I, like many of you out there, will go in search of that one Perfect Image. You know that after finding this image, you will no longer need pornography to fill your lonely moments. You could even go so far as to throw away the rest of your collection. So you bypass Google this time, because, even though you have forgotten the address of your childhood home, there is one string of letters and numbers that will always get you where you want to go.

And then you wade through the flashing, talking ads for ski masks and Lysol. To you, they aren’t even there. You may idly wonder why anyone bothers putting ads on these sites, since it is so very clear that interests are otherwise engaged. If they do catch your full attention, it’s only because it popped up right in front of what could have been the Perfect Image. But now that image is sullied by the thought of Lysol, arthritis, or Broccoli Child. In anger, you close the popup, scroll past more ads, and click images. Day turns into night, and night turns into day, until spent and hungry, you crawl from your desk chair to the divan, ring the bell for your manservant, and demand sushi. And no, you don’t care how far from the ocean you are, or how high up in the mountains—you must have it now.

This is urgency, and is why no one will read this.

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