We’re not just internet wise-crackers here at the site – we’re also internet historians. More than anyone, we 
remember when your 56k modem made that ear-piercing noise that could destroy a man’s brain, and when the only way to get the straight dope on a subject was to ask a long-closeted homosexual named Jeeves. He called himself a gentleman’s personal gentleman for god’s sakes!
And we of course remember the day Google Image Search was born. This was around the time when most of us were jumping off the Yahoo bandwagon and joining the Google train, and GIS was the free in-car wifi. It became a powerful weapon in the arsenal of us budding blogumnists. A rambling half-funny cyberdude suddenly became a thing of legend with one [IMG] tag. Case and point, me. Even if I lose you, look – Bart is so high!
Google Images was as squeaky clean as a long-closeted homosexual. In those wild west days it was also probably the only place you couldn’t work some Boolean magic to acquire shots of a comely defrocked lass, try as I might. But as I recently discovered, this is no longer the case.
Being the aspiring political satirist that I am, and because I am indeed down with the swirl, I searched for “Obama’s wife”. What I saw would stun and titillate me.
Google Image Search, you’ve got a filthy little mind. Either that’s not Obama’s actual wife or I have no legitimate excuse to be politically-retarded. Was this a simple mistake, a calculated case of character assassination by John W. McBush’s Presidential candidacy, or something far worse?
I tried to save my soul. I searched for “beach party” because, hey, it’s summa, and I’m the mood for some chillin’ in the hot sand – even though it feels like winter! Am I right, people in my near climatological vicinity? Google pooted out this:
Naughty parts censored with our own Bo Swidersky. God bless that man.
Lord Littlebrook. Scantily-clad is one thing, but these ladies were not even clad at all. This is definitely like no beach party I’ve ever not been invited to. Weary, used, and abused, I looked up the most innocent form of man-woman interaction. I needed to feel whole again. “Flirting”. Right? Sure. Well:
Cut a guy a break, engine! Desperate times etcetera. I had to cleanse my soiled eyes of what I’d just seen. Cue a search for “cute puppies”. Save me from this space.
Goddamn, is there any way you can’t disturb me? If I hadn’t run out of Bos, I’d have censored that shit.
What happened to you, Google Image Search? My guess is it fell in with a bad crowd, the cool new kids at school: the YouPorns, Pornotubes and Bonezones of the world. Alright, that last one doesn’t exist, but it will when I find investors.
Or maybe it’s been sick since the very start. Its name creates the acronym GIS. Now pronounce that in the way that rabid theatregoers pronounce “Les Mis”. Extremely saucy.
Google Images, we excoriate you. And no, you sickos, that’s not where a chick uses a hot curling iron on your sack. See, now look what I’ve become. So much for never growing up.
