Thursday, March 30, 2006

Nigerian royalty regularly passes through my inbox, ferried by heartwrenching e-mail after heartwrenching e-mail, and after this month’s entreaty for donations–a complicated process involving shadowy government agents, double dealings, and Paypal–truth dawned on me, as if it were a zipped attachment. The Internet is a sensory overload. Imagine an unfiltered television on which anybody could appear, for free, simply on impulse.

The answer, of course, is specialization. Imagine if you had to choose one Internet each week. Which would you prefer?

The Glinternet
Can you believe some people honestly enjoy clicking on ads? Well, some people honestly enjoy clicking on ads. The Glinternet starts as a gigantic flashing fullscreen button that says, “SHOOT THE COCKROACH TO WIN SOME FREE ELECTRONICS,” whereupon overcoming your epileptic fit long enough to comply will lead you to a smaller flashing ad.

This new ad asks you to “TRADE YOUR SOUL FOR 1,000 FREE SMILEY FACES.” As soon as you click, a neon error window appears with promises of fixing your computer, you enter your credit card number, and then your Bonzi Buddy lies to you.

The Clinternet
All Clint, all the time, unless you tick the 1×1 pixel box to opt-out. The Clinternet boasts video-on-demand, which means you can demand The Rookie in DivX format on Mondays through Saturdays, Dirty Harry on Sundays. Upgrade to premium service to access Hundred Dollar Baby, the direct-to-video sequel that’s uncut. It’s the “slambang, white-knuckle film spectacle of the year that will knock your teeth out!” declares Pete Travers.

Every Thursday afternoon, you’ll be able to voice your opinion through an online poll fed directly to Clint.

The protagonist in my next movie should
A. Die
B. Die
C. Die
D. Die

If the poll doesn’t go your way, don’t worry. Just spearhead one of those online petitions, because we all know how well those work.

The Winternet
If you like spending winters in Chicago, or periodically enjoy getting locked into walk-in freezers, by all means choose the Winternet! Platinum members get to play that one game where you whack the penguin as far as possible. Bronze members have full access to a forum where they can discuss watching other people play the penguin game.

All members, however, get a nifty mouse cursor that trails–you guessed it–snow and holiday cheer! Best of all, you’ll have the keys to the weather kingdom: a premium account on Weather.com! Hurrah! What’s in a premium account, you ask? I imagine the same accurate readings:

40°F
(Feels like -15°F)

And less melodramatic headlines:

NORTHEAST DECIMATED BY THE WRATH OF THE FROST KING

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Our journey to the promised land of the Internets will have to wait because my skull feels like a conduit for all the headaches in the world. Here’s an excerpt from a phone call today. I have a hearty band of interns handling customer service now, thankfully, yet the choicest callers still wend their way into my voicemail.

“Ah, so is your mother home?” I asked the caller, suddenly realizing I was speaking to a child.

“She’s at work.”

“How about your dad?” I pushed.

“He’s in prison.”

The conversation got a little weird after that.

Monday, March 27, 2006

It would be unconscionable to ignore you another night, dear reader, and it would be downright criminal to go ghost on a Monday evening, perhaps the last bastion of consistency around these parts. We all know Friday night has been a roaring success the past few months, but we mustn’t let it go to our heads. Moderation is the key.

The jury’s still out on the Internet. Part of me really likes it because, y’know, it pays the rent and even feeds me occasionally. I’m given to the industry. And yet, another part of me knows it’s the worst thing ever to happen to humanity, as if Amazon partnered with Sodom–and Gomorrah, through quality zShop vendors–to bring us the very best, Super Saver Shipping included.

Think about it. Ten years ago, did Bank of Am3rica ever e-mail you, imploring you to “oh gods please verify ur account informations by clicking this genuine link”? Was there such a thing as an encyclopedia actually editable by the public, responsible for actual people getting actually fired? Were you able to view capitalism in its unfiltered glory in post after post about hoarding $30 DVD players at Walmart? Buy your groceries from a website, only to have them delivered straight from your local supermarket? Write crossover fan fiction about Captain Kirk intimately bumping into Janeway in the teleporter room, phazers set to hot, when Ranma 75 ¾ suddenly drops from an air duct and casts Carnal Missile on them both?

If I get a Google hit for that last sentence, Lord have mercy on us all. Wikipedia. Peapod. Fatwallet. Us. Geocities.com/ny/8554763/trekkiesinheat.htm. One of the cogs of the Internet is the idea of instant feedback, where judgment is dispensed on a real-time basis. This means a site’s continued existence is itself a stamp of public approval, which makes you wonder why some of this stuff exists. If we were to start a page today, me and you, reminding people when to wipe their asses, there would be regular visitors. We could implement an autoreminder component via RSS feed and everything, and of course we would offer trial memberships.

This is a lot to process, I know. But tomorrow? I give you the solution.