Thursday, October 8, 2009

30 and counting….verification nation.

When I post links to my blog, I have to type in one of those internet verification codes.  Usually I just hurriedly type the nonsense words and get on with my posting. 

Call it another way to procrastinate, call it too much time spent online; but, the day ‘trinity misdeed’ popped up in my security box, I started to pay attention. Just who writes these things?  ‘trinity misdeed’?  Is this a
Da Vinci Code reference?   ‘sandbank Mass’?  Does someone need a vacation? 

I began to picture a guy, large and clammy, bent over a desk littered with stacks and stacks of papers.  There are empty cups and coffee rings on every surface.  His shirt is yellowed with sweat and desperation.  It’s dim and dank with only a buzzing fluorescent tube for light.  Sweat beads on his upper lip as he mumbles to himself and relentlessly cranks out some sort of broken memoir/manifesto.  He’s more than just the CAPTCHA guy, damn it, he’s got something to say to the world. The following is a list of the insanity/inanity that has followed:

cherished debtor
herd maharishi’s
Gauguin Studio
aborted Maxwell
cubist lair
nonwhites penknife
loves lyme
Amanda at
Sylvia trip
shepherd cabin 
porcine Rosenblatt
gripping new

Based on my analysis, we are dealing with a fallen Catholic (‘trinity misdeed’, ‘herd maharishi’s’) art-loving racist (‘Gauguin Studio’/ ‘cubist lair’ + ‘nonwhites penknife’) anglophile (‘loves lyme’) who may or may not want to kill himself (‘Sylvia trip’=Sylvia Plath + ‘shepherd cabin’, i.e. heaven, as Jesus was a ‘shepherd’= possible self-harm, if you follow my logic).  I’m not even going to touch ‘aborted Maxwell.’  Is ‘porcine Rosenblatt’ a dig at a heavy-set Jewish boss? 

I’m sure that CAPTCHA’s are computer generated.  I’m sure that my sweaty recluse does not exist outside the walls of my procrastination fantasies.  Still, how can you re-type ‘untruth L.I’ and not take a moment to wonder……

*thank you, Erica.

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