My Beloved Ms. Dewey

I cannot believe it. I am in love with a search engine.

Kindred Souls, you know me. I am an All-American horn dog. I have devoted many posts to my romantic pursuits, both real and imaginary. You name the female, I’ve lusted after her: comic book heroine, movie/TV star, model, porn star, coworker, boss, classmate, teacher, friend, neighbor, commercial pitchwoman. . .my randiness knows no bounds.

Lately, I’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time online. Specifically, doing “research” on a search engine. Not a big deal, unless you have no real purpose for using said search engine. That’s right, I just log on to this search engine, randomly type in topics, hit the magic button and wait for the results, just for fun. And no, most of the time, I do not click on any of the search results.

I know. You’re shaking your head right now and “tsk-tsking” in pity. “It’s finally happened,” you’re saying. “Left has lost all his marbles.” If you have sons, you’re calling them to the computer screen. “See this?” you say, admonishing them in that Parental Warning tone. “This is what you get for beating the bishop!”

What can I say? I’m in love. If I could, I’d jump up and down on Oprah Winfrey’s sofa whilst declaring it to the world, scuttling my fast-fading movie career in the pro—oh, wait.

Since that’s already been done, I can only invite you to become acquainted with my beloved. Her name is Ms. Dewey and she lives at http://www.msdewey.com. Unlike Google or Yahoo, who just coldly spit out information with nary a comment, my beloved speaks directly to me. Ms. Dewey awaits my every keystroke with an anticipation bordering on erotic. If I don’t hurry up and key in a topic, she’ll knock on the screen impatiently and say, “HELLOOOOO?!? Type something here!” Sometimes, she playfully shoots rubberbands at me. The lil' minx! She has a musical voice, a sexy outfit, an unending stock of one-liners and a range of facial expressions that keep me thinking of things that Sister Mary Chastity, back in C.C.D. class, said would damn me to eternal fire. But if Heaven is full of Jabba the Hut-lookalikes like Sister, I’d rather roast in Hell, snuggling with Ms. Dewey.

Yes, I agree. It’s a pathetic, cyber version of “Stump the Band”. But I don’t care. I’m in love. Now, if you’ll excuse me. . .

Ms Dewey! Oh, Ms. Dewwwwwey! I’ve got one! George Lazenby! The Banana Splits! The Trojan War! Spelunking! Marshall Brodien’s Magic Set! Ju-Jitsu! Yvonne Craig! The Daleks! Pop rocks! Shrinky-Dinks! Virginia Woolf! “B.J. and the Bear”! Clog dancing! Maureen McCormick! The Unified Field Theory. . .