Gmail Irritations and other Enemas

Maybe it’s just that time of month for me, but every time I get an email to my gmail account from someone who has written to me from a non-gmail account, Gmail pops up a little highlighted message that says, “Invite (insert name here) to Gmail!” It’s one of life’s irritations that drives me fruit; almost as bad as those gas stations where they have a little television set at the pump that broadcasts ads for the shitty hotdogs and whatnot they are selling inside the gas station. Since Michigan State Law requires that I stand beside my car while filling it up and the TV does not have a mute button or off switch, I HAVE to listen to that fucking chirpy-voiced infomercial. Maybe I’ll keep the hearing protection I use for chainsawing and shooting in the car and wear it whenever I end up at one of those stations.

Is this the future we have to look forward to? Will consumer products themselves continue the trend of assertively insisting we help market them to others? If I wear a T-shirt from The Gap in the same room as someone wearing a shirt from Abercrombie & Fitch, will our shirts attempt to convince us to approach one another and tell the other that they should shop at OUR store?

HEY GOOGLE: Here’s a suggestion. Instead of telling me I ought to invite so-and-so to gmail, why don’t you make gmail so orgasmically good that I won’t have to be told to invite him/her/it; I’ll just do it because I’ll be so fucking happy like I just found Jesus and want to share it with everyone. How’s that for a marketing idea?


2 Comments on “Gmail Irritations and other Enemas”

  1. migellito says:

    Gap-shirt-man and A&F-shirt-man enter the same room at a party. The crowd grows silent. Holograms of their mascots appear over their heads and slowly approach each other, seeming to walk upon the awestruck heads of the partyers. Gapmascot and A&Fmascot quickly size each other up.. then BEGIN!

    The dumbfounded crowd shakes with gravitas! They know this fight is.. TO THE DEATH! A&F unshoulders a musket with the calibre of Jack Sparrow's ship cannons. The shot burns through the air like a comet decimating the rule of the dinosaurs.

    The Gap brings forth his psycho-chasmic wizardry, rivening a.. yes, a gap!.. in the very air. The shot continues its hellbent flight into an unknown realm, and A&F stands aghast and impotent. Capitalising on his opponent's dazement, Gap raises his arms to the thousand holes of the acoustic ceiling and calls forth a thunderous crack in the fabric of reality.. under the pistoning feet of A&F!

    The battle is done. The smoke and brazen coronets fade. A&F-shirt-man is left naked from the waist up, his erstwhile garment consigned to the diabolic realm of Bargain Bin.

  2. Limpey says:

    Damn, Migelito— if it was like that, I wouldn't mind simply because that would be so freaky weird cool. You have got to get a patent on that idea ASAP.


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