The Searchers
If you’ve tried to learn even elementary computer programming, at one point or another (early on, before you quit) you probably had to design a random number generator.
A random number generator is a simple algorithm that (surprise) generates a random number, which is useful for designing games of chance or messing with a survey taker who calls when you’re eating dinner (“How many children do you have?” “Let’s see…353.” “Really?” “Wait…nope. Two.”).
After you’ve done this little exercise, of course, you realize that there is no such thing as a random number, and you begin to suspect that nothing is random; we just can’t locate the program.
For example, here are two completely random thoughts I had this morning:
(1) We live in an age of remarkable technology, particularly compared to, say, 40 years ago, when I was a child and watched a black-and-white TV that contained vacuum tubes. So how come, with all these marvelous toys we have, light years away from 1964, when something doesn’t work the solution 99% of the time is “Turn it off, and turn it back on again”?
(2) Perfectly normal, polite, cautious people become drunk with power when driving in the parking lot of a grocery store.
These may seem the product of an undisciplined mind, stray thoughts by someone who’s been watching Ellen Degeneres too much, but I know exactly why I’ve been thinking about them. Although I’m not telling.
I did watch Ellen last night, though.
I’ve been reading several postings lately by bloggers who wonder what people can possibly be thinking. Random words, scattered throughout electronic reams of writing, are snatched by Google and slammed into a “found” category, and suddenly we get readers who are looking for something we don’t have, or understand, and certainly wouldn’t be in favor of in any case.
Real Live Preacher has a great example of this.
It just now (randomly) occurred to me that someone searching for “an essay on The Penis” might show up here. We really have to be more careful, people.
Okay, now it just occurred to me that someone searching for that definitely will show up now. Shoot.
My referral links have always been benign, actually. Up until recently, the top two were “How to build a Tin Man costume” and “The Inside Out Boy,” both of which have at least some non-random merit. Although I’ve worried that someone searching for the Tin Man thing at noon on October 31 is probably not pleased to find that I’m of no help.
But lately, people have mostly been searching for me.
I understand this. I’ve searched for old friends and acquaintances on the Web since there was a Web. It’s easier now than it was 10 years ago, partly because there are sites designed for this purpose (e.g., Classmates.com) and partly because we’re out there now, all of us, lurking on some server, just waiting to be discovered by someone with too much time on his/her hands.
I got a note the other day from a friend I knew in college who did just this kind of search (sorry, Tom; I’m not implying idleness on your part. It’s the rest of them), and it was a nice surprise and remarkable in a way.
He just wanted to say hi and share something we had in common as we find ourselves in middle age, something I’d written about, but what’s remarkable is that he actually took the time to write.
See, I think there’s a huge amount of voyeurism that goes on out there, and because of the nature of the Internet there’s a tendency to stay anonymous. And I understand that, too. We really don’t want to explain why we’re looking for an old girlfriend at midnight. There’s too much in there about five margaritas and an argument and regrets and loneliness and feeling old and washed up.
We just want a bio, an update, some news we can ponder and, if there’s a God in Her Heaven, we get a picture, too, so we can shake our heads and say, “I can’t believe Shannon Marcus got so fat.” So we don’t try to make contact, and somehow this amazing ability to connect gets neutered. So I’m glad Tom wrote.
“Shannon Marcus,” by the way, is the product of a random name generator I just invented (still testing beta version). It means nothing to me.
Although, now that I think about it, it might mean something to a real live Shannon Marcus, about whom I’ve just started a nasty rumor. Not to mention that someone could look for “Shannon Marcus” AND “fat” AND “penis” and…
I’m shutting up now.
