Can you see me? Of course you can’t. I’m in cyberspace, I think. I’m lost in some weird place that people call the Internet, but I call it Bizarre-O World.
Something crazy happened while I wasn’t looking. Something called the World Wide Web, or the Internet—maybe they’re the same thing. I don’t know. I can’t understand a thing about either one. I just know spiders come with webs. I don’t like spiders. They scare the heck out of me. I hate moths more than spiders, so, if the World Wide Web is for a huge spider, I can accept that better than if it was for a gigantic moth.
All I know is I got left in the dust. I think the younger generation created a way to escape a much wiser and older generation, like me. Well, guess what? I’m not going to let that happen. I’m not gonna let Bizarre-O world intimidate me. Who does it think it is?
I’m going to go to Bizarre-O world and cause as much trouble as I can—that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna go to Bizarre-O World and push every button I see—that’s the only thing I like about Bizarre-O World anyway—the buttons. And, maybe the cute little hand that shows up telling me I can push on some words.
My granddaughter tells me, “You’re clicking—not pushing.”
I don’t see it that way. What the heck is a click? It’s something I do with my thumb and third finger. I like pushing that cute, little, gloved hand that signals it’s okay for me to push.
What I think is real rude about Bizarre-O World is the fact that I have to rely on my children and grandchildren when I get myself into trouble. Joseph says, “Quit clicking on everything.”
I say, “I’m not clicking, I’m pushing.”
He gets fed up and leaves the room. I say, “Good riddance.” He never has been a very patient guy anyway. With him gone, I get to push everything and anything I want. Who needs him?
Okay. I admit it. I need him when I get into trouble. Like when the screen is flashing, or something tells me I owe it a million dollars or something. How the heck am I supposed to know not to Click Here when whatever I’m reading says I can make $4,386.00 a week just by clicking here?
I’m convinced the world wide web is a conspiracy by the younger generation just to exclude us old people. Old people just don’t get it. The younger generation calls it the Internet. What the heck does Internet even mean? They made that name up just to confuse old duffers like me—but I’m not about to be left out. No sir. Not me.
Oh wait . . . I see something flashing. Something that says I can be a millionaire is ten days. I better go check it out and push some of the buttons with my cute gloved-clicker hand.
Come see me at http://www.amazon.com/author/laraeparry