If auto predict is anything to go by, 95% of the population is gay and the remaining 5% is in denial. Write “is” and then a letter from the alphabet (see above) and bar pretty much the letter X – weird, because Xena, Warrior Princess has always rung bells for me – everyone from A to Z seems to be one margarita away from coming out.
You could be entertained for days sitting in front of the computer typing the beginnings of sentences and waiting to see what Google throws back at you. It’s like pulling back the curtain on society. And then wanting to close that same curtain because you were expecting ocean views and all you got was an empty parking lot with several abandoned trollies.
As amusing as “can I drink my own urine if I get lost in the desert” is – (before or after the water runs out?) the real funny money is on questions that transcend the yes/no confines. Questions like: “will I go to hell for getting a tattoo?” (Yes, says Yahoo’s resident deity, “The Despoiler.”)
This was news to me, and I was eager to see what else The Despoiler knew about the after-life, so I thought I’d send him the following query:
When I was a young boy, a band of thugs kidnapped me and inked me up against my will. What’s more, they did that early 90s barbed wire around my upper arm which has made me the target of hate crimes. Am I going to hell too? Haven’t I suffered enough? (Also, I killed some people. I’m not sure if this will have any bearing on your decision.)
Unfortunately The Despoiler’s account has been suspended – (thanks for nothing, Yahoo) – so I didn’t get to find out my eternal fate: what I did get, was closure on several more niggling existential questions from retired philosophers “natureluvva99” and “soul2soul_21.” I was feeling enlightened and ready to go deeper.
So was autopredict. The next search yielded “am I a psycho?” which got me really excited because I’ve always wanted to know whether blaming Haydn Dempsey for wetting his pants in year two when it was actually me was just typical schoolyard behaviour or indication of something more sinister.
I got no definitive answer, and neither would have any budding Bundys, because this link led to the band Tech N9ne’s song of the same name, where some guys tie two victims up in an abandoned house and torture them, it would seem, simply by making them listen to their song.
The problem with the internet, though, is that genuinely great artists can be exposed to senseless personal attacks. Imagine, if you will, Thomas Edison in the age of cyberbullying, getting snarky little messages like “Good one thom-ass” or “Give it up bulb man#epic fail.” We’d all be sitting here in the dark rubbing sticks together and telling “how many men does it take to light a candle” jokes.
Which is why I don’t take the denigration of musical visionaries, such as Des’ree, lightly. I was baffled when I noticed that a large body of people have failed to appreciate her raw genius. Even more so when I saw that her song, “Life,” (arguably, one of the greatest songs of the 90s), consistently dominates internet polls as containing “the worst lyrics of all time.” Yeah, good luck making that stick:
Just in case you didn’t catch the first few verses, it reads:
I’m afraid of the dark
Especially when I’m in a park
And there’s no one else around, ooh, I get the shivers
I don’t want to see a ghost
It’s the sight that I fear most
Rather have a piece of toast, watch the evening news.
Apart from the fact that farmers don’t generally spray butterflies from vintage cropdusters while someone they don’t know hoons around their property annoying the workers, this song is nigh on perfect. What I like is that everyone can relate to this song, because who doesn’t like a bit of toast rather than seeing a ghost, and how many times have people wanted to go the park, if it weren’t so dark. It’s fifteen years on, but I think it’s time for a sequel, maybe with the title “Death,” which can act as a metaphor for finally putting to bed some of those cruel slurs. Enjoy.
I could write another song
Wouldn’t go for very long
Then some bells would go ding dong
And I’d eat polony.
If you’ve just bought my cd
Why don’t you go climb a tree
with a boy whose name is Lee
I’ll go make a spaceship.
It’s catchy, it’s chic, its topical and the thing is that, like Des’ree, the lyrical integrity has not been compromised by my commitment to rhyme. I call her the prophet of our times, someone else thinks quite the opposite. “Des’ree should die” says one guy in the comment section underneath her Youtube video. I bet you anything it’s The Despoiler: No doubt, he thinks you go to hell for writing dodgy lyrics.