Is That You?

Downtown searching for 'er, looking all around

Saw her getting in a yellow cab heading up town

I caught a loaded taxi, paid up everybody's tab

Flipped a twenty dollar bill, told him 'catch that yellow cab.

Nadine, honey is that you?

Oh, Nadine

Honey, is that you?

Seems like every time I catch up with you

You are up to something new/

 - Chuck Berry, Nadine

Among my many stubborn sisters is one who not only refuses to embrace social media, she is such a Luddite she sees absolutely no socially redeeming value in the magic of the internets. I tried to get her to join Pinterest and you’d have thought I was trying to get her to a Scientology audit.

She contends – can this possibly be right? - that real life differs in some important way from virtual life. I know, right? She’s even worse than another stubborn sister who thinks I should get out more. Like she is trying to get me to drink and drive, right?

Then, there’s my sister who I dreamed called to ask me to remind her what was the name of the playing card between six and eight. You have to think about that for a minute: it was very vivid. But was it Go Fish? When I told her, she said it was a portent of how we are losing our minds. Such a worrier. She thinks a zombie looking for brains would pass right by us. For somebody like me lately so preoccupied with the coming zombie apocalypse this is such glass half empty thinking of her.

I could go on. But I was on a mission.

I had determined I’d spend my afternoon at the keyboard, drinking nothing but water and mediating on a topic that I can sink my mental teeth into. I mean metaphorical teeth. The idea is to tackle something, anything, existentially important as an example of how consulting the internets is better than consulting a Tibetan monk in Lhasa while suffering the effects of hypoxia. Better wisdom-O2 ratio at my keyboard. It’s not a complete waste of time and I wanted to prove that the internets can often be used to enrich one’s life when its power is used for good.

So, I was listening to Chuck Berry while thinking of a suitable topic, and obviously realized Nadine would be a perfect subject. I’m trying to show my sister how wise and all-knowing the internets can be, and plus entertaining.

If you google image Nadine, you get pictures of dark long brunettes looking over their shoulders in chiropractically questionable positions and equally uncomfortable/minimal clothing. And all young and thin and come-hithering and shit. Probably the kind of woman Chuck was trying to catch up with.

This afternoon I have been meditating/internetting whether Nadine is a high class whore name. Or whether it’s just me and google image that thinks that. Maybe some of the women pictured are famous. They have this Eastwick blank sameness (the equivalent of the Victorian Interchangeable Emma). A sort of 21^st century Raquel Welch wannabe but less edgy than Raquel. Less authentic than even Madonna who tried too hard to make it look easy. Then again, the Nadine images could be of the same two or three women.

To be sure, some of the edginess to Nadine is that there’s something more sexy about brunettes. It could be they’re just malnourished Russians or broke Eurotrash, but I think it may be that hint of brains. Not enough to be scary for sure, but maybe would get your jokes, you know? 

But not the one about how Paul McCartney was in a band before Wings. They don’t know shit about Wings, and that too may be a good thing. Because sadly blonds too often still do. The blonds, for consideration on some future day, will be mono-named but with invented sharp sounding names. Kyriaka, Zulynn, Mijanou. And Bunny.

Yahooo Answers wouldn’t even entertain the question about whether Nadine is a slut name. Using a different browser (Firefox is a fucking prude) I found out why. One word. Porn.

Now, part of spending the afternoon on the internet is learning how to follow forks in the information superhighway. Since Yahoo crashed Messenger rather than address the issue of Nadine’s sluttishness, I wondered if it was Yahoo in general, or just Nadine. A scientific test was in order.

Turns out, Yahoo is more responsive when you ask: Why did the monkey fall out of the tree? Oddly, many replies include white refrigerators. This will remain a mystery meme. Wait, let me ask google for images of this. Technical difficulties and distractions ensure.

I began a google search with “please don’t take…”  I think even my most stubborn sister knows how google loves to play the Let Me Guess What You’re Asking game. The third suggested answer is “…the baby to the liquor store”. Drops mike. Walks away.

Then I got more water and came back. Having come to no conclusion and tabled the Nadine/slut name issue for a future session, I determined to get me some serious internet wisdom. I read the latest issue of International Socialism which let’s just say really harshed my Nadine-instigated mellow. So I had to visit Kate Heidel at  Wear Your Cape to cheer the fuck back up.      

So, while it’s not all fun and games on the internet, there’s some stuff out there that keeps me interested in life. Too bad when I try to listen to Spotify and practice zen googling my computer keeps crashing.

Which got me thinking. Life is counter intuitive. Glitter has a surprisingly heavy carbon footprint. It takes more water to make a tiny packet of glitter than it takes to make a bottle of bottled water.