Dear Google
The other day, I opened my browser and saw your logo. I was actually quite offended, even though I’d almost forgotten what said logo looked like, that you hadn’t found some minor historical event or person to celebrate with an annoying animation. I have quite fallen in love with your animations, as they’re so useful in the way they distract my eyes from the search-box, letting me go in happy ignorance of the tpyos I produce. This really does help convince me tat my typing has inproves. Well until, that is, I get presented with the results of the search that I thought I’d made, for an archaeological article dealing with ‘digging’ in ‘Virginia’. Luckily I don’t have a wife, so this hasn’t even resulted in black eyes or divorce proceedings.
Particularly impressive, I thought, was your amazing graphic of the Great Exhibition, the other week. The way the large image of a magnifying-glass followed the mouse down, so that the transparent edge of the image covered a large part of the search box, preventing me from clicking the curser into it without carefully moving it away from the three-quarters of the box that were covered by something I couldn’t actually see, was particularly impressive. Why, the first few times I clicked and nothing happened, I actually thought that there might be a problem with my mouse-button. Genius!
I remember that, back in the good old days, when 28k and 56k connections were ubiquitous, I actually began my habit of making your search-page my home-page because it was free of huge graphics, and therefore loaded really quickly. Oh, how I wish I could turn back the clock. Your amazingly annoying animations could then be even more annoying, as I chain-smoked half a pack of Camels, got the housework done, and nipped out to the shops, while waiting for your page to load.
Oooh! I just found out that some people still are on such connections. Some mobile connections actually still are that slow.
Jealous. So jealous…
Google, I thoroughly applaud your policy, which seems to be something along the lines of, “Something that’s quite popular and rather fun when done very occasionally, can only be improved by shoving it down people’s throats as often as bloody possible.” This completely agrees with my idea that if someone likes a bacon buttie occasionally, then obviously they should be perfectly happy to eat nothing but bacon butties. Forever. With no ketchup.
Yours, most sincerely,
—Daz
P.S. The way I find that I’m automatically signed in to every damned Google service that I subscribe to, after merely signing in to YouTube to click ‘Like’ on a video, or lambaste someone over their u’se of a greengrocers’ apos’trophe on the comment-board,* is also extremely impressive. It’s not like I actually wanted a choice in the matter of what I sign in to, and when. Blimey! That’d be plain daft of me, wouldn’t it.
*I do not actually do thi’s.
Dear Lowly User
Dear Daz
Thank you for contacting our carefully hidden Customer Service Broom Closet Office. How did you find us? No matter. Changes have now been made which ensure that the contorted trail of links you must have clicked in order to do so will now lead to a user-led message board, where you may exchange advice on using our services with other users who have little more clue about them than you do.
Fuck off.
Yours sincerely,
—Google™
P.S. This email will self destruct, melting your hard-drive in the process, in sixty (60) seconds. Have a nice day. (smiley-face)
P.P.S. BWAH HA ha ha haaaaaa!®
“BWAH HA ha ha haaaaaa!” is a registered trademark of Google.™
Do not reproduce without permission.
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