If you could read my mind love,
What a tale my thoughts could tell
Gordon ( It-only-takes-6:14-to-wreck-The-Edmund-Fitzgerald) Lightfoot
One of the many advances in computer technology is the uncanny ability for HAL to read your mind and know exactly what you want and/or need and/or desire, whether you know it yet or not.
Amazon has it down to a science. Buy one book on any given topic, and Amazon will gleefully email you constantly about "more books you might enjoy." I must admit, they've been right on more than one occasion. Damn you, Jeff Bezos! But hey, thanks for the coffee mug you sent me last Christmas for being a valued guest. Or big sucker.
My boyfriend, Google doesn't have quite the same success rate. Google is much less discriminatory, plastering banner ads for whatever it darn well pleases, based on random words in the blog. For example, on my main page right now (this may change by the time you read this) my banner ads are still for the dreaded Red Hats. But if you start clicking on individual entry titles on the right, they magically change. The Commercial Break entry gives me banner ads for Frequent Indigestion (Nexium), Bloating & Endometriosis (Endo Know -- Outsmart the pain!) , Stomach pain/bloating (Novartis Pharmaceuticals), and Reflux (Complete source for Heartburn relief). Despite my best efforts, I have had no success in bending the Banner-Ad Gods to my will, but I do enjoy trying. EVIL DUCKS.
Spammers, of course, have no clue what I want. They encourage me to purchase items to improve body parts I DO NOT HAVE. They encourage me to purchase items to enlarge body parts THAT DON'T NEED ANY MORE HELP, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. They want me to lock into a mortgage for a house I don't have, reduce my debt with Christian love and understanding, and call Kristi for a good time because her husband is out of town the rest of the week and she is HOT. Alas and alack. There is no joy in Mudville: Mighty Spammers have struck out.
But as the calendar and the twenty-five pounds of in-store circulars will tell you, 'tis the season, and nobody wants to be a mind reader. With a scant 17 days until The Big Red One comes to town, everybody wants to know what I want. They want lists. Colors. Sizes. Alternate Choices. Itemized and emailed about three weeks ago. And I don't know what happens, but every year right around this time, I suddenly become brain dead and all I can do is sigh and say, "I don't know."
So I'm going to try, really really hard, to think of something. And hey, I'll ask my friends. They know, right?
Google thinks I haven't had enough Edmund Fitzgerald and wants me to DOWNLOAD GORDON LIGHTFOOT. I wonder how long would that take on an high-speed connection? Second choice: red hat.
Amazon thinks I'm certifiably schizo, recommending everything from South Park to Spinning Designer Yarns, to Minnie and Moo Go To Paris. Sadly, I must admit I already own all of these.
Spammers think I need things to improve my things that I don't have and it only costs $1.74 a dose!!! I think the Spammers need a sPeL ch3kerr.
This is no help at all. I have to think. What do I want? What do I really, really, REALLY, REALLY CAPS-LOCK, LEANED OVER want?
Maybe just enough time to have enjoy a teensy bit of that holiday feeling, instead of being so rushed that my only warm and fuzzy Christmas activity is giving the angel a Douglas Fir enema in between loads of laundry.
Maybe that download idea isn't so bad afterall.
Do you think Gordon Lightfoot does dishes?