Google’s online-platform e-mail service is creatively titled Gmail; Google is full of brilliant folks, but they shuffle their dullards off to toil in the “naming department.” In any case, Gmail allows you to send pithy e-mails, receive forwards that inevitably involve a talking monkey at some point in the proceedings, and wonder how you landed on the e-mail lists of such extraordinarily helpful, though at the moment unnecessary, male health products.
It also provides an additional service titled “sponsored links,” which appears to the right of your sent and received e-mail messages. It uses an algorithm to…oh, never mind. Suffice it to say what’s on the side is related-though most of the time in a very abstract way-to what you’ve written in your message.

To test the acumen of this algorithm, as if such a responsibility is mine, I wrote some fake e-mails just to see what Google thought I might be commercially interested in based on my correspondence:
From: Ben Haley
To: Ben Haley

I am in the market for a pommel horse… “Why?” you ask. I’m trying to be a gymnast…No, not really-I’m screwing with Google…What’s that, you say? “Good, because gymnasts are in shape?” What are you implying?… No, I’m not actually offended. You’re right, after all. It certainly could be an issue, especially with a lycra leotard.

“Sponsored links” provided admirable advice to me upon the sending of this first e-mail. To start, there was a purveyor of leotards that I thought was called “Initialize Your’s” until a second remedial glance revealed it as “Initially Yourz.” Disappointing. None of the subsequent links offered pommel horses, either. There was some gymnastic floor music on offer that I couldn’t bring myself to investigate further.

If I really were interested in becoming a gymnast, I suppose I could have done far worse than to follow Google’s lead here. If I wanted a monogrammed lycra leotard, though, I would have to strike out on my own. By this, of course, I mean I would simply grasp Google’s hand again, this time in the form of their search engine, and totter after them.

From: Ben Haley
To: Ben Haley
If I can’t be a gymnast because, as you so offensively put it, I would look like a “turnip who isn’t ready to be a father,” then how about an astronaut?… It’s too late in the game, you say? I’d need to be a fighter pilot first?… What if I bought my own spaceship? Could I do that?… No, no, my name isn’t Richard Branson…

Google blows my mind here. How does a “NanoMan Mini RC Astronaut” sound? Almost better than being a real astronaut. It has its own jet pack. It doesn’t have a ray gun, but still. How was any of my youth wasted with grim Lincoln Logs? What a tragedy. I suppose they served their purpose, though, as an easy way for my parents to say, “We’re not doing very well financially. Here, build yourself a house so we can rent your room.”

Following that gem of a toy there were a few links directing me to space shuttle wallpaper, pens, and something called a “satellite stacker,” which apparently allows you to watch more TV than you ever thought possible (8 HDTV receivers running at once!!!!!!).

Not needing any of the offerings and actively not wanting everything but pens, I moved on. The final link was to a $4,000,000 NASA-backed competition to contribute something towards efforts to build a space elevator. Sounds practical. “What floor? 3,782,243, please. To the moon!…sorry.”

From: Ben Haley
To: Ben Haley
All of this futile dreaming has left me in need of a respite. Do you think a vacation to North Korea would be a good idea? Have I ever heard of who? Speak sensibly, man. Kim Jong whats-it?…

It began with a link to “North Korea Flight Deals: Super cheap tickets”-you don’t say. This was followed by the cryptic link “North Korea: Everything to do with North Korea items,” which was pleasantly vague, mysterious, and grammatically incorrect. I followed this rabbit warren until it led to my ultimate disappointment in the form of Yahoo! Shopping. When I returned to Gmail, I took in tripadvisor.com’s “North Korea: know before you go,” which, if I may say, is a slogan that would be terrifically bad for the tourism health of North Korea.

This entire exercise was abruptly halted by a knock at my door. “Who is it?” I asked.

“The NSA.”

“Concerning?” I called out nervously.

“Where to start, sir? Your internet visits to sites selling biketards and unita”-

“What’s illegal about that?

“Nothing. Who said it had to be illegal?”

“Oh. Nobody, I guess.”

“Right then. There were also your communications involving the words ‘space shuttle,’ ‘ray gun,’ and ‘tragedy’ in close proximity. How about your interest in visiting one of the members of the ‘Axis of Evil’? Care to explain?”

“How do you know about all that?”

“Sir, respectfully.”

“You guys are good.”

“Better than Google, sir. Now open the door.”

***
Other columns by Ben Haley can be found at www.atwitsbeginning.com.