The internet – part 1

I'm starting to dislike the internet now. I can remember firmly (I believe I was fully aroused) when I first connected to a bulletin board via a 56k modem (most plebs were struggling on 33.6k or would fax each other). My first connection was with Compaq, and the reason for it was to repair the several issues that came with my brand new still in the box Compaq presario 166mhz Pentium 1 that had the same memory capacity as a piss stinking Nan slowing marinating in a high backed chair, wilting away with dementia while the family stood around her smelly bed tapping watching and egging the reaper on. I'd paid over two thousand pounds for it.

I didn't want this to change my life, to school myself in the new wave of technology that was taking over most office based professions and revolutionising the way dirty trouser rubbing men would harvest their need for grot. No, I wanted this for the game Championship Manager, a text based game, that through some sort of magic, that I still to this day do not understand, gave you all the thrills and spills of managing a football team, it also gave me my first grey hair and I believe was a large factor in my peptic ulcer and irregular heartbeat and at one point I actually spat at my monitor after a 2 hour attempt to sign text based legendary footballer Viktor Leonenko, who, according to the game, made Pele look like Stephen Hawkin.

After a 2 day and night solid game of this without sleep round a friends house before leaving caffeine addled and burgundy eyed, I decided that I must own it. I eventually wasted about two years of my life on this game. I am still to this day questioned on my CV where it claims I managed Tottenham Hotspurs to the Champions league and Premiership title (its just underneath Baltimore police officer, which is on there due to the experience I gathered during my scary addiction to the programme the wire).

Eventually I managed to connect to the internet proper. I had a world of knowledge at my fingertips, sadly, my fingertips were rarely visible for being held in a tight fist thanks mostly to the buffet of porn available. It was all a little bit sad really. The sadness soon passed when faster internet came and entire films could be downloaded, music was free and it was possible to go to sleep and wake up having downloaded German shit eating piss guzzlers volume 1-7, the entire back catalogue of the band Texas, the flight manual of a Boeing 747 and the ability to make your own nuclear missile out of things found in Granddads shed (if you are into that shit). Then, suddenly, the internet became a corrupted pitfall laden shit tip which is no longer an enjoyable experience, pop ups, phising attempts, cookies, trick links, flash laden crap and over the top websites, I only wanted to see the news and all of a sudden my computer is straining like John Barrowmans arsehole and my 10mb line is struggling like an old man trying to piss out via a prostrate gland the size of that strange girl out of little mix's head. A simple tap on an offer for a half price fruit juicer will end up with every single instance of child porn ending up on your harddrive in an instant, terrabytes, well, thats what most paedo's say, "I was only trying to buy a juicer".

I don't understand the benefit of trying to shoot as many adverts into someones face while they are searching for something on a website. Try to imagine that in real life, you walk into a shop to buy some scouring pads and all of a sudden you have a wall of people shouting in your face enthusing about different products, you would walk out of that shop quick sharp, mostly through fear of being attacked. Pop ups are wholeheartedly offensive, again, to equate it to real life, you are walking down the road minding your own business, you know where you are going, to the train station say and then, suddenly from behind a bush, a man jumps up and screams “cillet bang” at the top of his voice, you would shit your pants.

Preemptive searches, not only has the internet and technology turned our youngsters into a bunch of illiterate low trouser mumbling fuck husks, talking a strange new language like “fk u u f@ prk” but they are now being deprived the right to even make an attempt at a correct spelling because Google already knows, with its knowledge on your surfing habits, an innocent trip to google and merely typing the letter m in results in it completing the sentence with “midgets fisting swans” takes you to the .com of that website, uses your pre-stored credit card details, signs you up for a platinum membership and then, via google+, assumes that you would like to share the best avian anal splitting parts of this website with your nearest and dearest on there, one of which happens to be your swan loving boss. The mere typing of a letter m and you have lost your job, house and friends, but on the bright side, you now have the best possible access to a swan fisting site, which you can laugh at until your internet is cut off and you kill yourself in a hazy boozy final last strangle wank.

Social media too has absolutely killed the whole premise of friendships, a friendship was something that you had to work on, it shouldn't take too much effort, the odd phone call, a visit round when your mate was feeling down, trips to the pub and the real feeling you get from being around actual people, the smell and feeling of warmth when you pat them on the back laughing, or when your mate makes a grab for your testicles, confesses he is gay and that he fancies you, and suddenly you wish you was back home, and on facebook.

Nowadays, when someone is down they will post a near suicidal tweet (a suicide post it note) and people, usually people they don't know, come back with 140 character tweets of support and advice for turning their life back from the brink, and then the inevitable follows from makers of carving knives, paracetamol and sturdy rope. The same thing on facebook will result in someone trying to support their "on the edge" “friend” by inadvertently liking their suicidal post. The whole "like" thing is lazy, “I had toast for breakfast with jam on it, nom nom” 4 people like this, how fucking creepy, if this was real life and you were sat there and having some toast with jam on it, and you looked behind you and out of the window and four of your mates were standing outside gurning, thumbs up, approving of your breakfast choice you would probably get a quadruple restraining order, 500 meters minimum.

I must admit, I am a little bit addicted to twitter, I use it to vent nonsensical negative thoughts and share them with mostly strangers, I have grown quite close to some of the people on there and have a genuine concern when things are going wrong for them, but I do find it a bit creepy trying to offer advise and support with such restraint, if were real life and people talked in tweets the world would seem a very cruel place. I am a hypocrite, I will be using twitter to get people to come and read this shit.

Its difficult to know what the future holds for people with the internet taking over peoples every day lives, we will probably be sat in small pods physically connected to machines losing the use of our limbs and gradually becoming grey featureless balls being constantly pleasured by a robotic hand on our flabby swollen genitalia, sending tweets telepathically (still 140 characters) and logging in to virtual work places to carry out needless admin jobs in a virtual world. If this sounds like your life now, you are in trouble and I suggest you send out that suicidal tweet tonight and see who loves you...