You can probabl…

You can probably tell that I have way too much time on my hands because I am about to write a post about internet ads. Two words. So creepy. Seriously, Google AdSense must stop. Google knows more about me than my mom does. I get it. Marketing. Consumerism. Business. Money. Success. Justifications aside, tt’s still weird. I feel like I am being stalked. And not in a cute boy is stalking me way. More like in a serial killer is stalking me way.

Google is like those journalists that blow up and twist your quote into a toy poodle when you just wanted a spherical balloon for your cousin’s graduation.. Terrible analogy. Journalists don’t blow balloons and clowns don’t take quotes. I mean there’s no harm in taking the poodle, but excessive and unnecssary much? It’s almost as annoying as those waiters that ask you if you want cracked pepper with every single dish. Sorry but I don’t want cracked pepper on my salad, soup, pasta, and cheesecake. Stop trying to make cracked pepper happen. It isn’t and never will be a universal condiment, as ketchup is.

Back to ads. I admit it. I’m mainly bothered because ads help bring up humiliating or just weird results of my internet history. Yes I have looked at baby clothes, but no I don’t want a breast pump. I did look up some sample poetry analyses of Machado, Neruda, Quevedo, etc., but I don’t need to see the Charmin bear wiping his butt while speaking Spanish. Yes I have ordered titanium wire and agar off of Amazon for reasons unmentionable in public (it was a weird science project), but no I don’t need an ant colony or a glass jar of termites. And for the last time, yes I have read daily devotionals online, but I am not a Christian single looking to mingle (even if that website did look reasonably safe and trustworthy).

You probably think I found this on Google images, but this is my own screenshot.


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