There's A Hole In The
the hole in the ozone I have discovered something more disturbing, a
hole in the Internet. There I was happily googling my way through life
when I fell in it. Do you want to know how many times Charles Grodin
has appeared on the David Letterman show? Google it. 32 times is the
answer. I first heard the story of Frank Zappa out grossing an
audience when I was 12 years old. As the story went, Frank offered a
prize to anyone in his audience who could out gross him. Allegedly a
member of the audience, (a guy of course) came up on stage and
defecated. As the crowd roared, our hero Frank said “pretty good, but
not good enough.” With that he proceeded to eat what was left for him
on the stage. If it wasn’t for the Internet, where if it wasn’t for
Google, 12 year old boys, or their fathers would be repeating this story
or some version of it as fact and not the urban legend I discovered it
to be on www.snopes.com.
Google is the Holy Grail.
It finds me fact, it finds me fiction. It finds me music, it finds me
work. It finds me science it finds me magic. If it doesn’t find me
love at least it finds me sex. It finds me up too late and alone. It
finds me playing when I should be working but it finds me working
without even realizing it. It finds me asking, it finds me learning.
It finds me the first Honeymooners episode and the last Seinfeld
episode. It finds me George Bush quotes such as “Down
in Washington they're playing with Social Security like it's some kind
of government program.” It finds me mpegs and jpegs. It scratches my
inquisitive itch like a telescoping back scratcher. That was until the
telescope broke when I fell into this hole. This hole in the Internet.
Now I know many of you are having trouble believing. You’re saying to
yourself, what’s he talking about. I know just yesterday I googled the
recipe for the perfect Crème Brule. The secret is in the wrist by the
way as you apply the heat from the Bunsen Burner. And it was only last
week when I shut up my childhood friend Greg by Googling the fact that
the Boston Red Sox have more Triple Crown winners (3 to 2 or 4 to 2 if
you count both of Ted Williams triple crowns) than his beloved Yankees.
Hey, if it wasn’t for the internet wouldn’t my wife still be singing
“don’t go Jason Waterfalls” instead of “don’t go chasing waterfalls”
from TLC. Which brings me to this hole I keep talking about.
I thought I was content in my couch potato existence when a lyric popped
into my head. The line was from the chorus and in fact it’s the title
of the song. It goes like this, “say goodbye to little Jo, just turn
her loose man let her go, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah, she
doesn’t love you anymore!” Do you know who sings this song? It isn’t
hard to find out. Put the words “say goodbye to little Jo” in the
little box marked google and sit back. You got it on your first hit.
Steve Forbert. Want to know what album it was from. Dig a little
further down and you’ll learn that was Jackrabbit Slim in 1979. That
album featured Romeo’s Tune, which you will learn was Steve Forbert's
highest charting song. In fact before you leave that first page of hits
you can learn that Jackrabbit slim was Steve Forbert's best selling
album ever and the only song he ever had chart other than Romeo’s tune
was…well you guessed it, Say Goodbye To Little Jo. By the way, if you’d
like to buy this CD you will learn that it took Sony 17 years to release
it on CD and it will cost you $10.99. Oh, you will also learn that
the producer for the album was a late addition. His name was John
Simon. Why the late addition you ask? Well you don’t need to Google
again just yet, because working off your current Google you learn that
Barbara Streisand stole his original producer. Isn’t the Internet
wonderful? It is, which is why I’m so shaken by what I’ve discovered.
Before I finally reveal the crack in the armor I want you to
understand what we’re dealing with. We’re dealing with a mechanism that
can tell you there are over 2000 stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and
list them alphabetically while offering you a map to their location.
This is not your father’s Internet. It’s so powerful that if you put
unrelated words into google, you find relationships you never knew
existed. Try it. Put the words Toenail and Gargle into Google. Words
that should never go together and you know what you will get. You’ll
learn that some people believe that Listerine, yes the Listerine you
gargle with, is a cure for toenail fungus. So with this background I
was shocked to learn that there is a hole in the Internet.
Having discovered this hole, I really feel I should have
some say in naming it. I think it’s a little too narcissistic to name
the hole after me. Also, my last name is a little too long to roll off
the tongue. If you put my last name in Google however you may be
surprised to learn that I have some references linking me to the Howard
Stern show. I was surprised to learn my nephew Rolland who is a high
school sophomore shot his second 40 of the season for the Old Bridge
High School golf team without my knowing it. More curious is who is the
first hit, a Jennifer Gesimondo. There are not many of us Gesimondos
around yet I don’t think I know her. According to the hit she is a
journalism major. Maybe it runs in the blood? Maybe she is blood?
Have you put your name in Google yet? Try it; you never know what you
may learn about yourself or your family. But I digress. The name for
this hole and what it’s all about.
I want to name this hole the Forbert hole. That’s right, I have been
unable for the past few days to find my missing lyric. Do you get it?
I can’t find a lyric to a song that charted. I can’t fill in the “blah
blah blah’s from the chorus I quoted above! I can however find the
lyrics to a David Hasselhoff song called “Is Everybody Happy” to comfort
me when I get depressed over my missing Steve Forbert lyric.
“If you're surrounded by clouds of thunder
Don’t let it get ya and pull-ull you under
You gotta fight it and learn your lesson
Or you will end up in deep deep depression
Whatever the hang up
We're getting a gang up
And we are gonna have us some fun.
No David, we’re not going to have fun and I am not
comforted, and I can’t pull-ull myself out of this hole.
How can “Say Goodbye to Little Jo” not
be Googleable? Is "googleable" a word? I don’t know, but we can put it
into Google and find out. Forget the dictionary, you know your attempt
is a word if Google returns hits such as it does for Googleable. Of
course the other way you know it’s a word is if you get the famous “did
you mean” message from Google. For mature audiences only try this one.
Put bookakey into google and it will ask you, "did you mean bukkake?"
Case closed I believe that bukkake is indeed a word. So I can find all
this and I still can’t find my missing lyric. It’s been days. I am
shaken. I am dusting myself off as I write and attempting to pick
myself up. Not just from falling in this hole in the Internet but for
what I’ve been reduced to. I’ve been in my basement, moving the clothes
off the bowflex and pushing past the Christmas decorations to get to my
old record collection. On hands and knee’s I find myself trying to find
"Jackrabbit Slim". I can’t believe I’m doing an old fashioned manual
search. I want my basement googled, I want my life googled. I want a
world where any search can find you an answer or send you off on a
tangent that distracts you from life. Hey, is that my old comic book
collection in the corner?