Google Gone Way Too Far

I’ve never met, exchanged handshakes, hugs or blown kisses to Mr. Google, Mrs. Google, Ms. Google or anyone with the first or last name Google. Have you? Thought not.

Why then does this thing, yes this thing named Google spell it’s name with birthday cakes on my birthday, yes my birthday, and on top of that have the audacity to wish me a happy one. Actually it started several hours before my birthday, which is a big mistake because a friend calling me from a different time zone would acknowledge that the wishes were early and that they wanted to be the first.

The impersonally personal activity by the thing called Google is grotesque.

I immediately changed my browser to Yahoo. Please, Melissa, save us from Google.

What if there is somebody somewhere whose only birthday wish comes from that all seeing insensitively intimate Google thing? It could be the last straw, the one that sends the dear soul over the edge into permanent cynicism and lasting distrust of birthday cakes and wishes.

Google is a thing, it’s like a pot, a pen, a magnification glass, it’s been something I used to make, write, and look for stuff. It’s not a friend. It’s a fake friend. It’s the worst of the breed, the kind that pretends to care. It has taken pure self-interest into the stratosphere. It makes me want to take a shower and put the whole thing out of my mind and out of my life.

Save us from the day when that Google thing rudely compliments you on what you’re wearing, what your plans are, or sends sympathy wishes over a loss in your life…