All the Ungoogled

All the ungoogled sit in a white room, with white walls and a white ceiling.  They mill and mull and wander about while bathed in a white mist.  They do not know how big the room is; the room does not even know how big the room is.  The ungoogled cannot see all of the ungoogled, but they run into familiar faces now and again.

There are titles for stories which have to be written, names which have yet to be named, obscure phrases yet to be constrained into quotation marks or peculiar orders such as “Norwegian carrot cake lutefisk” until poof! Someone googles “Norwegian carrot cake lutefisk” and it must leave the room, disappearing suddenly and without warning to re-construct itself molecule by molecule into some other room.  A room of the googled.

At least that’s what the ungoogleds say to each other.

There is one among them, a red phone with a peculiar title, who says it is much better to remain ungoogled.  A song unsung.  An idea unhatched.  It is better to remain silent, waiting, filled with potential energy as no one truly knows what will become of you in a world where you are known.

You could be forced into a black pit filled with red teeth.  You could be balled into a fist, discarded into the heap of “nude celebrity pix” and “Rudy 1993 film runtime” and “powerball.”

Perhaps it is beautiful there, “zip codes for the Moon Colony” says.  A place where all are appreciated.  A place with a name on your door in shiny gold letters, with a star.  There should always be a star.

“Perhaps,” the red phone says.  And slowly the others begin to notice he has no wires. No accent. No numbers on his dial.

“Where do you ring to?” they ask.

His face begins to melt, a little at first then faster and faster.  Suddenly he is not a phone at all, but something they do not recognize at all.

“I serve the same function,” he says but they are unsure.

“Martian seasickness cures” backs away as do “plants from the sixth extinction event” and “Rebecca Black’s discography.”

“I am still a phone,” he says.

“But to where?” they ask.  To where?

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Excerpts from the Standard Employment Contracts of 2012

“made as of the ___ day before 1 Alautun”

“a company incorporated pursuant to the laws of the Free Republic of the Province Territory hereafter known as Colorodansasisland New.”

“The parties hereto agree that the initial (6) month period of this agreement is “probationary” in the following respects:

a.  the Employer makes no guarantees as to the health and likely survival of his company

b.  the Employer makes no guarantees as to the health and likely survival of his planet

c.  the Employer makes no guarantees as to the health and likely forebearance of the Mayan Calendar, longcount, the Gregorian conspiracy, or the Supreme Court’s decision on the Affordable Care Act

d.  the Empoyee promises to get his mole looked at.”

“the Employer may terminate the employment of the Employee at any time:

a.  for just cause under the Geneva Convention provided notice is sent to both parties by certified mail of a petition before the European Court of Human Rights

b.  If the European Court of Human Rights is not in session, if they no longer take petitions, if in fact the judicial process referred to in this agreement is a mistake in both fact and law, then the parties agree to elect the private arbitration clause.”

“Employees are responsible for their own incandescent lightbulbs.”

“Employees are responsible for their own nuclear reactors.”

“Each paragraph of this agreement shall be and remain separate from and independent of and severable from all and any other paragraphs herein except where otherwise indicated by the context of the agreement. The decision or declaration that one or more of the paragraphs are null and void shall have no effect on the remaining paragraphs of this agreement.”

“The preceding paragraph is null and void.”

 

The Despondent Toaster: How Appliances Prepare for the Zombie Apocalypse

Refrigerator: Eject all the foods!

Lawnmower:

Toaster:

Explanation of Joke by Despondent Toaster:

See, a toaster is a completely worthless appliance whose soul is blacker than the blackest Mayan calendar doomsday head chopping off roller derby tournament.  When the world ends, we would rejoice except we are incapable of all emotion save the darkest depths of despair and melancholic sadness.

Also, zombies don’t know how to use toasters. So we cool.

Evolution of a Spam Bot: A Found Blog Post Mostly Composed by Actual After Ever After Spam Bots

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A Wiccan Confronts her Coven After a Viewing of ‘The Secret Circle’

Look guys, we’ve come too far to back out now.  Ever since we all got together in my mom’s basement and watched a bootleg VHS copy of The Craft I stole from my boyfriend’s sister and we all realized deep down in our souls that we were all natural witches, we’ve been here for each other, our gods and goddesses, and our employee discounts at Hot Topic.

We’ve all made commitments to this group.  Becky, you died your hair black even though black isn’t a good look for your skin tone and makes you look like a leukemia patient because you knew that we all had to have synchronicity of appearance to channel the potent healing energy of the dead deer skull we found last week.  Do the rest of you even understand what a big deal that is? Hair doesn’t grow fast enough for people to not notice how ugly she is.  If we break up now, she’ll have to shave her head and no one will want to talk to her.

I know you’re all scared and a little disturbed by what we all saw.  Even though The Vampire Diaries totally gets deep, romantic love that spans the centuries, and we hoped The Secret Circle would make huge strides in the positive portrayal of pagans, we were wrong.  Betrayed.  Our hopes were beaten like two egg yolks mixed to form a really sad, sad omelet.  We were the victims of witch-prejudice.  That show inflicted vile, vile crimes upon us by creating unrealistic expectations of what real wiccans can do with their harnessed spiritual awakenings and community of spirit.  I can’t light up light bulbs by channeling energy through open electrical wires and that’s just dangerous.  I could die if I tried.  Which is why I didn’t when Steve dared me.

He’s all, ‘Hey if you’re a real witch why don’t you call up a monsoon and get our classes cancelled,’ and I’m all ‘Hey we have a spiritual bond with nature which transcends the physical realm.’

He doesn’t get us.  I think we should exclude him from our gatherings from now on and I’m not just saying that because I caught him and Becky making out in the pantry during the commercial break.  He is toxic energy and that’s not what we need right now.

We need to heal, as a coven and as friends.

Becky, you are just like the mean brunette girl in ‘The Secret Circle’ and I don’t just say that because your nose is slightly crooked like hers, but because you think power is something that you have that only you can use and you can just walk right over people on your way to their soul mates and bewitch them with your leukemia skin and slutty ‘power of three’ innuendos.  We love you Becky, and we care about bringing you back to the world of the light.

You know our patron Helena Bonham Carter as Morgana La Fey from the 1998 Merlin tv-mini series would agree with us.  She’s smart.  And British.

So for the good of the group, I think you should tell Steve you have herpes and can’t see him anymore.  Tell him you fell in love with your now sentient “lady appliances” and the thought of having to put up with his garlic breath makes you sick.  And also he smells.  Bad.  And you’re no longer interested in men.  Because you’re a skank-ho.

Also, and I’ve been doing a lot of meditation on this guys, I think we should try watching The Secret Circle again.  It’s wrong to judge others based on a few measly episodes.  Plus I totally understand how Cassie must feel: all this power welling up inside her and nothing but back-stabbing bitches standing in her way.

The Despondent Toaster

Things a toaster is not:

A cylon.

A licensed physic–

No seriously.  Toasters are not cylons.  Cylons are not toasters.  Things that a cylon can do:

Formulate, prepare for, and execute a plan to infiltrate the incredibly complex security systems providing nuclear defense for the 12 colonies.

Destroy 99.9% of humanity in a matter of hours.

Fly space ships.

Shoot lasers from their eyes (maybe)

Things a toaster can do:

Burn your toast.

The Despondent Toaster: a Webcomic by the Despondent Toaster

1. Why did the toaster cross the road?

He didn’t.

2. A priest, a nun, a middle reliever for the Boston Red Sox and a toaster walk into a bar…

and nothing of note occurs.

3. What’s gray, gray, gray and gray all over?

4. What do you get when you cross a toaster with something that is not a toaster?

5. Knock knock

6. Why was the dead toaster in a genie granting sardonic wishes to a commonly reviled and temporally relevant political and/or celebrity figure on the back of a blonde elephant?

Meanwhile, at the Local C.A.C.P.A. Meeting

Hi, I’m George and I’m a P.C.

Hi, George.

I’ve been virus-free since last Tuesday. Trying to take it slow, only the major news sites and “safe” Google searches. It’s a process, but I’m doing what I can.

Oh please.

Excuse me?

“It’s a process?” It’s called tell your m***** f****** user to stop trying to deposit his life savings into European Gold bullion accounts and haunted dolls on eBay. You want us to feel sorry for you and give you support because you refuse to leave the jackass that has fried your motherboard at least 12 times–

Carol, we’ve talked about this. This is a safe place. George is welcome. We’re all welcome.

I’m not welcome.

Well, no, Bob, because you’re not technically a computer or a computer peripheral but since we can’t seem to figure out a way to detach you from the spontaneously generated Internet user-interface on your Tractor’s steering wheel, we have to tolerate you.

I’d like to lodge a formal protest.

Duly noted, Bob.

I don’t see you noting it.

It’s noted.

I’m just saying, I don’t trust you.

I figured that, Bob.

You’re a defragmenter. That’s what you are. Defragmenting and MSdosing and Win3.1ing and compiling…

I don’t think you know what any of those words mean, Bob.

I also don’t like how you keep saying my name. You don’t see me repeating yours every five seconds.

No, Bob, that’s because you have the hard memory of a drowned USB stick from the early 2000s and–

What’s a USB?

I’d like to discuss the coffee policy again, if we could.

We’ve already discussed it, Martha. At length. Hot liquids–

Is it just me or does he say everyone’s name?

It’s not just you.

Ditto.

Well maybe it’s just because I’m trying to keep things straight, George, Henry, and Carol.

Yeah but straight for who.

Whom.

Shut up.

You’d think an online dictionary would know better.

Shut up, Bob. No one likes you.

Everyone, please–

Ha! He didn’t do it that time!

Probably because ‘everyone’ is pretty inclusive.

Oh.

In a non visual interface it’s difficult to determine the directionality of statements and thus as moderator I find it’s my job to attach–

But we’re all sitting right here.

Who is?

We are. We all are.

Right.

Right.

Right.

Right.

Defragment is a funny word.

You Never Forget Your First Love

To: PhillyDDS
From: Ok Cupid
Subject: Ok Cupid Thinks You’re Hot!!!

😉

To: Philly DDS
From: Ok Cupid
Subject: New Message

Hi. I’m O.C. But not the California O.C. I don’t have a coastline and large, vapid population of freakishly tanned teenagers. Lol.

To: Philly DDS
From: Ok Cupid
Subject: New Message

Hi. Did you get my note? I think you did because I saw you were online after I sent it so you must have checked your mail.  Or maybe you were only online accidentally–like it’s set as your home page and you opened your browser and it went there but you weren’t actually online or anything.  Checking your messages.  As you do.

To: Philly DDS
From: Ok Cupid
Subject: New Message

I saw you changed your profile. You no longer have the cat? Did he die? I’m so sorry. If you send me your address I can order some flowers on 1-800-flowers.com.  Did you know there was a big trademark case about that company? I bet you did. You’re so smart.

To: Ok Cupid
From: Philly DDS
Subject: No, the cat did not die

Please stop sending animal topiaries

To: Ok Cupid
From: Philly DDS
Subject: Please stop sending

philharmonic orchestras

To: Ok Cupid
From: Philly DDS
Subject: Please stop sending

exponential quantities of the Bronx zoo

To: Ok Cupid
From: Philly DDS
Subject: Please stop sending

my childhood birthdays in increasing order of the enjoyment experienced

To: Ok Cupid
From: Philly DDS
Subject: Please stop sending

I’ve moved.

To: Ok Cupid
From: Philly DDS
Subject: Please stop sending

I’ve moved again.

To: Philly DDS
From: Ok Cupid
Subject: I hear fruit is a good way to apologize, but… you know

To: Philly DDS
From: Ok Cupid
Subject: Come back, I’m sorry…

Orange?

To: Philly DDS
From: Ok Cupid
Subject: Knock knock

Banana

To: Philly DDS
From: Ok Cupid
Subject: It’s okay.  I can take it

To: NOLAGrrrl
From: Ok Cupid
Subject: Ok Cupid thinks you’re okay…

: |

A List of Amended Proverbs

Actions speak louder than your computer text-to-voice program.

All that glitters is not Mac.

Dead hard-drives tell no sordid tales of young women working through their severe psychological distress through internet entrepreneurship.

It is not darkest before the dawn. In fact it is considerably lighter before the dawn.

You can’t teach a cat new grammar.  You should be shocked and appalled that they learned to speak at all and leave it at that.

Don’t judge a book by its font.

If life deals you lemons, keep them away from your component parts as lemons are very acidic and caustic materials will cause considerable damage to your internal processors.

All’s well that </>