Okay, this is what I've been wondering: Is there anything you don't know? I mean, could there be some tiny tidbit of knowledge not hidden away in a dark corner of your ever-expanding web? And if that happened to be true, would it even matter to a mere mortal such as myself? The breadth and depth of your knowledge shames the libraries of Congress and Oxford and ancient Alexandria. I have no hope of accessing it all in my one lifetime.
That is why I love you -- and loathe you, too.
You see, you don't collect only the best. No, you're a thorough democrat, dispensing the most evanescent ephemera along with mankind's finest thoughts. Philosophy, theology and science are all fine and good, but you give us equal opportunity to watch people do stupid stuff with Mentos and Diet Coke and see pictures of clouds that look like Yoda.
Guess to which kind of content I almost always gravitate?
Consider last night. I had a good hour to work on a short story for a contest I want to enter, a full sixty minutes in which to stretch out the narrative thread and stitch together characters and weave an exotic setting. It's what I wanted to do. Why then did I load up videos of kittens slipping down slides and comics written on Post-it notes about zombie chickens? Oh, wretched man that I am! Who will free me from this body of distraction?
Truth be told, Internet, I'd really like to blame my lack of productivity on you. You provide so much of this stuff to access. But in the end, I know that fault lies much closer to home, in my itchy fingers and easily bored mind.
(Picture: CC 2008 by DaveAustria.com)