I spent a large part of Monday morning working on a web site for a company that sells alternative cancer treatments. Super mushrooms to make you live forever, or something like that. Usually this would be easy, because we get a lot of that sort of thing around here - but when I opened the file to get at the client information, this is what I found:
"Once upon a time, long ago, God gave man a cure for everything. Then, over
the long millennia the cures got lost. Eve probably didn't keep her recipes or her
Godmother misplaced them or something and mankind could no longer live free of pain
ever after."
I sat there and stared at this for like five minutes.
Eve's recipes?
Eve's ...godmother?
A lot of people I talk to think it's funny that I have these strange and bizarre sites to work on every day.
…sometimes it is.
But then there are those other days when you're on your seventh straight hour of motard patrol, and it just gets to be too much.
I mean seriously, this fucker thinks he can cure cancer
And let's put aside for a second this underlying assertion that all the worlds’ suffering is Eve's fault for being a dumbass woman (and for also apparently having an equally stupid... legally designated... relative?), and focus on the real issue here:
Someone with a tumor is going to give this a-hole money. Someone in pain, someone hoping against hope is going to cancel their next chemo session, dial the phone, and pony up for a bag full of fungus that they think is going to save their lives.
Because they want it to be true.
Because they need it to be true.
Because they saw it on the web.
Because I hit the button.
Because I wrote the site.
14 more to go, then my day's done.
"Once upon a time, long ago, God gave man a cure for everything. Then, over
the long millennia the cures got lost. Eve probably didn't keep her recipes or her
Godmother misplaced them or something and mankind could no longer live free of pain
ever after."
I sat there and stared at this for like five minutes.
Eve's recipes?
Eve's ...godmother?
A lot of people I talk to think it's funny that I have these strange and bizarre sites to work on every day.
…sometimes it is.
But then there are those other days when you're on your seventh straight hour of motard patrol, and it just gets to be too much.
I mean seriously, this fucker thinks he can cure cancer
And let's put aside for a second this underlying assertion that all the worlds’ suffering is Eve's fault for being a dumbass woman (and for also apparently having an equally stupid... legally designated... relative?), and focus on the real issue here:
Someone with a tumor is going to give this a-hole money. Someone in pain, someone hoping against hope is going to cancel their next chemo session, dial the phone, and pony up for a bag full of fungus that they think is going to save their lives.
Because they want it to be true.
Because they need it to be true.
Because they saw it on the web.
Because I hit the button.
Because I wrote the site.
14 more to go, then my day's done.