May 1998 net worth by Leslie Harpold |
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Target Audience
I never get credit for my inventions. When I was six, I turned to my
mother and I said "I think a good thing would be a computer system that
would connect all the people in the world so they could chat about nothing
at all in real time, deliver sensitive documents from behind enemy lines,
keep in touch with loved ones, post their opinions on cat care to be read by
the general computer owning populace and also have a forum to trade things
like pirated software and hard core pornography uninterrupted by petty
tasks like leaving the house.
Do I get credit for inventing the Internet? No. The government did, of
course, as part of a larger plot to keep a sister down. It must have been
the next day when I turned to her and said, "An even cooler thing would be
pages - connected - like - like a spiderweb mommy, where people can write
about thing like their NASCAR racing favorites and their favorite rock
bands, and maybe show pictures of themselves and their cubicles at work and
perhaps their favorite niece." She told me no matter how many "inventions"
I had to share I would still sit at that table, even if I had to be tied
there a third day until I ate my lima beans. She didn't understand my
genius, and Tim Berners Lee with all his "scientific knowledge" and
"programming experience" walks away with the credit.
That's just not fair. The one thing the Internet has taught me is
this: for every action, thought or idea, there is a web page. Every
obscure private joke from Andre the Giant's posse to Mr. T's ball
consumption has been not only immortalized, but done to death with each
person claiming credit for being the inventor. The secret is
documentation. Nothing cool or funny can be kept to yourself anymore,
everyone - myself included, now feels compelled to publish with a
vengeance, if only to show the world just how witty they were, that one
time - remember? When that guy said the thing and they turned to them and
just as ,plain as can be said that other (insert not particularly amusing)
funny thing? That was great. That deserves a web page.
My Contribution
Brackets. That's right. Use your paws as illustrated above and you have
the ultimate geek rock shoe gazer gesture for see ya later, word to your
sysadmin, peace out, whatever you need it to mean. There will be signs
they say, for the apocalypse, and this very well may be one of them.
Because life just isn't worth living unless it's translatable to web
deliverable documents. This gesture sums it all up nicely.
Enough already!
This gesture neatly, and in terms they understand tells them to shut the
hell up. What? What is that gesture you're making - oh, I think you mean
to use your right hand for that part and - oh. Okay. I'll shut up now.
Just remember where you heard it first. Oh, it won't cure cancer or
stop world famine, but consider it my little contribution to the pointless
and inane use of web pages. After all, why should I be any different than
all those Geocities people? After all, Geocities got an IPO that would
almost support Todd in the lifestyle to which he's become accustomed.
Love,
Photos by Gregory Alkaitis-Carafelli from his self portrait
series called "helping leslie at 3am" soon available in paperback.
back to the junk drawer
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