Google knows everything about us, that’s no surprise, but what is upsetting, is to find out that Google has now allowed for us to know everything about ourselves.
With the new ‘download your history’ feature, Google allows you to create a stored archive of EVERYTHING you’ve ever searched. Like we would ever want to relive those experiences. So, in utter outrage, I decided to write this so called ‘Google’ (if that’s even your real name) an angry letter.
Dear Google Googlinton,
We stopped writing in our journals, out of fear that someone might read it, and we instead put our deepest, darkest secrets into your trusted hands, Mr. Googlinton, and you threw it back in our faces, how could you! At some point in our lives, we’ve all had to Google something questionable. Whether it was research for a story or a drunken question that we desperately needed answered (How many Kebabs is too many kebabs?), there have been times when we have exposed ourselves to things we might not have wanted to be exposed to, seen things that we can’t unsee, but that doesn’t make us bad people.
I shouldn’t have to be punished from that one time that I searched for ‘Baby Jesus Butt-Plug’. It was for research purposes, I swear. But you don’t care, do you Google? You just sit back up there, in your little computer world and laugh at all the ridiculous things that have floated through our search histories, you b****rd.
Searching through your history is like trying to stay friends with your ex: a bad idea that you will regret. We’ve grown, moved on, and I feel like my search history from 2013 is no longer a part of who I am, so why dredge up the past?
What are you trying to get out of this, hmm? Do you want us to take a good hard look at ourselves? Is that it? Okay well, you know what Google… you don’t scare me at all. I will look at my search history and it will be okay because before it appeared in your neat little filing system it came from my brain, so whatever dirt you’ve got on me, I’ve already tortured myself with.
Recent search history:
‘Job as Santa’s elf’ (Wow, I used to have such high career ambitions)
‘Normal waist measurement for Female’
‘How long does it take for wee to come out of your body’
‘Man that cut off his wife’s foot jeremy’
‘How many days in a year’ (2013 me was an idiot)
‘Why do women wear high heels?’ (A question I’m still asking myself)
‘What’s my postcode?’ (I don’t think I understood that Google wasn’t a personalised search engine.)
Okay Google, can I call you Googz? I admit, that was kind of hilarious. You’re a funny dude. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot here. I mean, it could be possible that you’re just having a LOL about all this and maybe I took it a little bit too seriously. But, if you ever leak my history to the public, we will have problem.
So Google, I guess what I’m trying to say is, I can cope with all the spying. I can cope with you trying to sell me stuff. I can even get over it when you try and predict what I’m going to write next, but please stop making me have to deal with my idiotic self.
Send my love to Mrs. Googlington and the kids,