Tuesday, April 24, 2012


I created an e-mail account probably around 1998 or so with the then heralded Yahoo! service.  The internet was a fairly new thing to me and I didn’t have much of an idea what I was doing outside of my comfortable AOL bubble that I had created for myself with the help of the many “free” CDs they sent in the mail promising “Fifty free hours of AOL use!” or whatever the hell it was.  I have been riding with this e-mail account since its creation and have been deflecting the attempts of other people to convince me to jump on the Gmail bandwagon.

“Yahoo sucks,” is a frequent argument.

“Gmail actually works,” is another one.

Throughout my tenure with Yahoo! Mail I have encountered many problems that might make a less lazy person throw up a few middle fingers and say, “Fuck this.”  I, however, am on the heavy side of the lazy spectrum.  Down near the morbidly obese and paraplegic (let’s be honest, there’s no way BOTH of your legs are useless).  So here I am, 27 years old and still using the e-mail account that Mr. Luke Simon helped me create before I knew how to drive a car.

I now sit at my computer with a rage pumping through me that would ignite a heart attack within anybody that isn’t the perfect, enviable beacon of health that I am.  What’s the cause of this anger?  Yahoo-fucking-Mail.

I opened the ol’ Firefox browser (because a friend finally convinced me to leave behind Internet Explorer last year after about a 12 year relationship) to see the little mail icon lit up.  This wonderful piece of informative technology informs me when I have a message in my inbox.  Could it be my work schedule for next week?  Could it be (yet another) rejection letter from a literary agent or magazine?  Could it be one of the thousands of penis enlargement advertisements that I continually receive?  (I want to know who’s spreading the rumors.)  Who fucking knows.  Goddamn Yahoo! Mail won’t open. 

It simply refuses.  It’s like a shitty little kid that knows where he put your car keys, but simply shakes his head until you give him a popsicle.  Oh you want me to verify my password.  Here you go.  Hmm, still want me to verify my password?  Okay, here it is again.  Wow, still not good enough?  You know what?  I’ll just change my password.  Holy shit you still want me to verify my password even though you say I’m already logged in?  Fuck.

The best part of this whole charade is that every time I reload the page, there in front of me in bold letters is the phrase:  “Yahoo! Mail:  The best web based e-mail.”  No shit.  They actually have the nuts to put that right in front of you while they figuratively moon you (while also pushing the balls between their legs so it looks all fucked up).

The reason I haven’t made the jump to a seemingly more reliable service is because I simply have too much invested in Yahoo! at this point.  It’s the same reason I don’t switch banks.  There are too many lines connected to the source and it would be a lot of work to remember every single one of them, let alone reroute them.  This is the whole laziness factor that I was talking about before.

I’ve been trying for about a half hour to navigate their help section, while also searching for a phone number to call to ask someone what the hell to do, or at least yell at for a little bit.  I mean, fuck, this shouldn’t be so difficult.

And that sentiment is why I’ve become increasingly annoyed with technology lately.  This can easily be classified as a first world problem, or whatever the hell that meme is, but I don’t care.  I’m not asking much.  When a device doesn’t perform its most basic function, I lose my mind.  For example, my phone frequently drops calls, refuses to accept picture messages (besides a few lucky ones that sneak through), and will even refuse to send the occasional text message.

“Well, get a better phone.”

No.  Fuck that.  I shouldn’t have to.  It’s a phone.  It should make phone calls.  Beyond that, it’s a cell phone.  It should be able to navigate text messages.  I’m not asking it for obscure baseball stats from the 50’s or what the weather will be like in Japan next month.  I don’t fault my phone one bit for not giving me that information.  But a fucking phone call?  C’mon.

I often think back to the time before the internet.  Ah, the early 90’s.  If you called someone and they weren’t home, too fucking bad.  Leave a message on the answering machine and they’ll call you back whenever they get home.  The only spam you received were the coupons from local stores and the occasional telemarketer.  Now you have people constantly trying to trick you by pretending to be your aunt for your bank information so they can ruin your entire life.  Sure, you can play Angry Birds while waiting for the bus, but someone can walk up behind you with some fucking thing in their hand and swipe it across your purse, taking all of your credit card numbers as well as your entire identity.  Your identity.  Think about that.  Identity theft.  They steal you as a whole and assume your rights.  It’s like a real-life doppelganger, except it doesn’t kill you.  You get to watch how they fuck up all of your stuff and all you can do is go, “Nooooooooooo……….”

Holy shit.  I just refreshed the Yahoo! page after yelling at it for a while and it worked.  God damnit, somehow that pisses me off even more.  You just all of a sudden decide to work?  You’re not a fucking person.  You don’t get to choose to do your job whenever you feel like it.  You’re a machine.  You should just work all the time, nonstop.  It’s not like it has a battery that runs low.  It just goes forever.

On a side note, holy shit about the internet, right?  This is the Terminator movies, except real life.  We’ve created something that our lives depend on and that can’t be killed.  The internet is too big.  Even if we tried to take it out, we wouldn’t be able to.  It’s in the fucking air now, being beamed all over the world like Jim Carrey’s mind control thing in Batman Forever.  And think what would happen if we did manage to get rid of it.  People would lose it.  Kids today have never known life without the possibility of quenching any curiosity instantaneously.  No patience.  No reason for it.  If they lost this ability, it would be like the rest of us going blind (except for the people that already are blind; it would be like going deaf for them).  Care for an example of how creepy the internet is?  Check this out.  It knows everything about you.  Therefore, everybody knows everything about you.  There’s no privacy anymore.  Facebook and Twitter have solidified this by tricking us into divulging every single thing about ourselves.  And what we don’t upload ourselves, it takes.  Orwell was really close with the telescreens in 1984, except Big Brother isn’t forcing them into our homes.  They’re convincing us that we need them.  And we’re paying exorbitant amounts for these, and then buying new ones a few years later after they toss us a new webcam feature or make it thinner or something.

Oh, and if you’re wondering what the elusive e-mail was that started this whole debacle, it was a notice from a magazine to enter a contest that I already entered.  God damnit.

No comments:

Post a Comment