Google

My brother just tried to tell me a riddle. I thought about it for a few seconds, but seeing as I had a laptop handy, I decided to Google it. Because thinking is just so last century.

The man who made it doesn't want it. The man who bought it doesn't need it. The man who needs it doesn't know it.

What's the answer?

A coffin.

You have to respect a company whose name has become a verb. When we went to missionary training, we were told that it would be a good idea to "Google yourself." I don't care how mature of a Christian you are, that's going to crack you up.

The availability of information is an amazing, and incredibly dangerous, development of our time. There are very few secrets in our world. Saturday night we were watching the post game show after the Alabama-LSU game (I'm not ready to talk about the game), and Kirk Herbstreit stopped the question because he had just felt an earthquake. Before anyone could have reported it, before the earthquake had even concluded, thousands and thousands of people were aware of it.

I personally enjoy the speed with which I can retrieve the weather report, price comparisons, and product reviews. I like you, Google, even if you do ruin my brother's attempts to befuddle me. I'm more than a little scared of you, though. Do you see everything? Do you spend your life going to and fro across the earth, looking for information to organize by keyword?

I would like to continue on my little rant, but this blog's server is owned by the Google dominion, and I've seen enough movies and read enough books to know that you don't mess with the technological powers that be.

Did you hear that, Google? I'm going to bed now, a place where I'm pretty sure that you can't see me. At least, I hope not (insert Twilight Zone theme music here).