The Internet is a Playground Read online

  Yes, I can. It was a lot smaller than I expected. I used to try to take in the fact that earth is spinning around a tiny sun, which is just one of billions in a tiny cluster that makes up just a bit of our Milky Way, which is one of billions of galaxies with billions of billions of kilometers between them, and I would get massive headaches and overwhelming feelings of insignificance with bouts of depression that ultimately led to the breakdown of my third marriage, but when you get up there you realize that there is not that much to it.

  How long does it take to reach your mission destination?

  Good question. Contrary to popular belief, distances in space are pretty close—rockets are seriously fast, so it takes only about 12 minutes to get to the moon and an hour or so to Mars, etc. It was assumed the distances were greater because of our mistaken calculations in regard to the size of objects in space. The moon for example was thought to be 384,633 kilometers away due to the calculation of it having a radius of 3,476 kilometers, but in fact, it is only 16 kilometers up with a radius of 2.3 kilometers. I myself walked the complete circumference of the moon in under an hour, and that included stopping often to look at interesting rocks. If I throw one of the rocks out into space it will travel through the void for eternity. I usually do this three or four hundred times each visit. Sometimes I spit on the rocks first, knowing my DNA may travel to another world countless light years away and fertilize a new beginning for mankind.

  Could you explain the functions of your suit?

  Yes, the suits are pretty cool, aren’t they? They may look uncomfortable but are actually like wearing a large fluffy quilt and can be put on or taken off in under thirty seconds. I quite often wear mine around the house when I am ironing, mowing the lawn, or popping down to the shops to get some milk. The controls on the front may seem complicated but simply control the bass, treble, and volume of the built-in MP3 player.

  How do you prepare for each mission takeoff?

  We try to get a good night’s sleep beforehand, making sure everything is packed and we haven’t forgotten anything. Once the ignition spark hits twenty tons of solid rocket fuel, we can’t turn around and go to the shop. On one mission, no one remembered to bring cigarettes, so the whole trip everyone was bitching and grumpy—I had a packet in my suit, but I had to hide them and only smoke in the toilet or everyone would have wanted them. Music is also very important, we strap in, run a prelaunch flight check, then press the ignition switch, which hits us with 9,000 G of thrust at exactly twelve seconds into the Linkin Park track “With You,” which is fed at full volume through our helmet speakers.

  Timeline for Ignition of Booster Rockets

  Graph assumes correct volume and bass levels have been set

  As commander, you must rely on a dedicated and highly skilled crew to ensure each successful mission.

  You would assume that wouldn’t you? You would think that a team would support their commander and encourage his leadership and support his decisions, wouldn’t you? You would expect there to be no bickering about little things or saying stuff behind people’s backs, wouldn’t you? Good teamwork comes from listening to your commander; that’s why there are ranks. Some people just do not understand that there is no “i” in team. I tell them that the word “team” stands for “terrifically exciting aims met” and had T-shirts made, but they didn’t wear them.

  Thank you, Commander, for taking the time out of your busy schedule to come and talk to us today. Is there any last message you would like to give to our students?

  No problem, I wasn’t doing much today. Well, if there were one message I would like to give to the kids of today, it would be not to do drugs. They may seem fun at the time and yes they may enhance sex and make music sound better, but they can be expensive unless you know the right people, so you would be better off buying books and pens and stuff. Space may be big, but it’s nowhere near as big as your potential if you have pens and other writing implements that you may need.

  NASA Space Facts

  The sun is twenty times brighter than a sixty-watt light bulb and generates twice the heat of a potter’s kiln.

  Russian astronaut Mikael Novas has been living on the ISS for eight years and collects erotica.

  You can make your own rocket fuel at home using a three-to-one ratio of chlorine and brake fluid.

  Space shuttle Endeavor contains living quarters for eighteen people and features a gymnasium and squash courts.

  Due to the shuttle taking off in the Florida swamps, several hundred ducks are incinerated during each launch. NASA employees often eat them following a successful takeoff.

  It is obviously that your a foggot

  Sometimes people e-mail me to tell me how their day is going; other times they e-mail me to tell me that I am a dickhead and my website is stupid, which I am already aware of due to many preceding e-mails stating the same thing. I don’t harbor behind a fake name, and my e-mail address is clearly listed, so it is a simple process for people like George to express their opinions to me; but as I never initiate an e-mail correspondence, simply reply, I am not always sure why they bother.

  If I were heteroflexible, I am pretty sure I would already be aware of the fact; and if I’m not, stating that I am is in error, so either way it is a pointless exercise. I don’t e-mail random people telling them that they have a pet cat named Charles on the off chance they do and are not aware of it.

  From: George Lewis

  Date: Thursday 2 September 2010 6:51 p.m.

  To: David Thorne

  Subject: No Subject

  I have read your website and it is obviously that your a foggot.

  From: David Thorne

  Date: Thursday 2 September 2010 8:07 p.m.

  To: George Lewis

  Subject: Re: No Subject

  Dear George,

  Thank you for your e-mail. While I have no idea what a “foggot” is, I will assume it is a term of endearment and appreciate your taking time out from calculating launch trajectories or removing temporal lobe tumors to contact me with such. I have attached a signed photo as per your request.

  Regards, David

  From: George Lewis

  Date: Thursday 2 September 2010 8:49 p.m.

  To: David Thorne

  Subject: Re: Re: No Subject

  I didnt ask for a photo fag. and I meant faggot you homo so you can shove your signed photo up your ass. You would probably enjoy that. LOL!!!! Go suck your boyfriends dick in a gay club.

  From: David Thorne

  Date: Thursday 2 September 2010 9:17 p.m.

  To: George Lewis

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: No Subject

  Dear George,

  While I do not have a boyfriend, I do have a friend who is homosexual, and I once asked him, “Do you ever think about having sex with me because you are gay?” to which he replied, “Do you ever think about having sex with Rosie O’Donnell because you are straight? Same thing.” If I were inclined to have a boyfriend, I would select one my height and weight to save having to readjust the driver’s seat position. I am not interested in doubling my wardrobe, as I wear the same outfit every day to facilitate speedy identification should I ever be in a boating accident.

  Although I have never been to a gay club as such, when I was about ten, a friend and I constructed a clubhouse in my backyard using timber stolen from a building site down the street. Our club, which we named The Kiss Club due to a certain band being popular at the time, employed an intensive entry exam in which the applicant had to know all the words to “Love Gun” and not be a girl. As we had no other friends and knew no girls apart from my sister, this made sense at the time. The next day after school, having managed to recruit several new members by promising laminated membership cards and changing the entry exam to “Knowing the names of the band members,” we all rode to my place to participate in our first club meeting only to discover my sister, outraged by the

  “No girls” rule and armed with four liters of paint left over from a recen
t bedroom redesign, had painted the clubhouse pink and added “ing” to the end of the word “Kiss.”

  Also, despite your inference, I have managed, up to this point, to avoid putting most things in my bottom. Primarily due to the possibility that I might enjoy it, get carried away, and move on to watermelons or midsize family autos. When I was about eight, I drew a face on my hand and practiced kissing it, which I will admit is a little gay; and I have often thought there would be advantages to homosexuality, such as Abercrombie & Fitch reward points, successful couch fabric selection capabilities, and the gift of dance. With or without a top on. This would be extremely useful if I needed five hundred dollars and saw a poster advertising a dance competition with a first prize of five hundred dollars.

  Regards, David

  From: George Lewis

  Date: Thursday 2 September 2010 9:33 p.m.

  To: David Thorne

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: No Subject

  If you livd close by gaycunt I would be over your place with 5 friends tonight.

  From: David Thorne

  Date: Thursday 2 September 2010 10:08 p.m.

  To: George Lewis

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: No Subject

  Dear George,

  I knew we would get along well. We have known each other for only one day and already you are organizing a party. I am not sure where Gaycunt is, but if I did “livd close by” to it, I would definitely be up for that.

  We could all sit outside on banana lounges discussing the best way to rebuild a 4WD transmission and agree, through shared stories of conquests supporting our assertions, that there is no basis to the proposition that those least assured of their persuasions are the first to condemn others for theirs. Although the ideal would be for everyone to be capable of love without fear, restraint, or obligation, clearly this does not apply to homosexuals.

  At no time during the night would you comment on how much you liked my Abercrombie & Fitch pants or ask, “Is that a Marcel Breuer couch? I love the fabric selection,” and when we danced, we would all leave our tops on.

  Regards, David

  From: George Lewis

  Date: Friday 3 September 2010 1:18 p.m.

  To: David Thorne

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: No Subject

  no fag I live in Charleston west virginia the best country in the world. I wasnt sying it would be a party. we would smash your fucking skull in and if you are calling me a fag you can get fucked becasue I have a girlfriend.

  From: David Thorne

  Date: Friday 3 September 2010 1:56 p.m.

  To: George Lewis

  Subject: Yeehaw, y’all

  Dear George,

  Is she also your sister? I checked out her photos on your Facebook page, and while she is not exactly my type, I accept that other people have different preferences. Even when those preferences include facial tattoos and stretch pants constructed from sufficient material to shelter a small village. And their livestock.

  Some men enjoy dancing with other men without their tops on while others prefer the company of a woman two KFC Family Buckets away from upsetting the planet’s rotational axis.

  I read somewhere that Eskimos prefer women of girth as they provide warmth at night. I have seen the size of those igloos, though, and there is no way your girlfriend would make it through the opening. You could probably just construct one around her and despite the hassle of having to trudge out into the snow every day to catch and prepare the eighty seals required to maintain her mass, it would be like a kiln in there.

  If I were an Eskimo, I would build my igloo next to a supermarket or on a tropical beach.

  Regards, David

  From: George Lewis

  Date: Friday 3 September 2010 2:01 p.m.

  To: David Thorne

  Subject: Re: Yeehaw, y’all

  She isnt fat you fag. and that she got that tattoo is a teardrop becasue her family is dead.

  From: David Thorne

  Date: Friday 3 September 2010 2:06 p.m.

  To: George Lewis

  Subject: Re: Re: Yeehaw, y’all

  Did she eat them?

  From: George Lewis

  Date: Friday 3 September 2010 2:32 p.m.

  To: David Thorne

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Yeehaw, y’all

  Get fucked fag her family they died in a traffic accident. have some respect. Go put some more gel in your hair and dye it balck like a emo skinny fag. And how can you see my facebook page pictures?

  From: David Thorne

  Date: Friday 3 September 2010 3:02 p.m.

  To: George Lewis

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Yeehaw, y’all

  Dear George,

  Yes, I have heard those motorhomes can be a bitch to steer. Especially around tight corners during a police chase or moonshine run.

  I will concede to 50 percent of your description of me as a “skinny fag” being correct. If our bodies are temples, mine would be a heavily shelled Iranian mosque express. To rectify this, I have instigated a fitness and weight training regimen. Once a week I carry two heavy garbage bags out to the sidewalk and jog back. As this week was my first session and I did not want to overexert myself, I took the car. Obviously with a few breaks in between to rehydrate and stretch.

  Although hardly an emo, I understand their pain. If I looked in the mirror and saw an anorexic version of Pugsley Adams staring back at me, I would probably start cutting myself as well. I will admit to having dyed my hair once, though. The product, misrepresented as “Natural Black” instead of “Astro Boy Black,” turned my hair as dark as an adequate simile describing just how black it actually was and stained my forehead and ears purple. In an attempt to blend the color, I rubbed the remainder of the mixture onto my face, figuring it might look like a tan. I spent the following two weeks telling people that I could not leave the house due to agoraphobia, an illness usually self-diagnosed by the unemployed as an excuse to stay home and masturbate or play Wii.

  I have access to your Facebook page due to the friend request you accepted from the Oscar Wilde profile I constructed yesterday.

  I assumed the name would hold no relevance to you and, consistency being the last refuge of the unimaginative, I typed “Redneck wearing baseball cap” into Google images to locate a photo you would identify and feel comfortable with.

  Regards, David

  From: George Lewis

  Date: Friday 3 September 2010 4:48 p.m.

  To: David Thorne

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Yeehaw, y’all

  Thats fraud. I will report you to the police and to facebook fag. i would shoot you in the face with my .32 if you were here right now.

  From: David Thorne

  Date: Friday 3 September 2010 5:19 p.m.

  To: George Lewis

  Subject: tarded

  Dear George,

  Yes, I’m fairly certain there is a worldwide criminal investigation network dedicated solely to bringing those who construct fake Facebook profiles to justice. I believe the punishment is tar and feathering in most parts of the world except West Virginia, where you are stripped naked, oiled up, and chased around a paddock while wearing a pig mask.

  Apparently, in West Virginia this is also known as a “date.” Variations include substituting the paddock with a motorhome or the person with an actual pig. Or in your case, both.

  Also, as it is probably far more acceptable for men in West Virginia to hold guns than hands, I will assume the phrase “shooting me in the face with my .32” is not a euphemism.

  Regards, David

  From: George Lewis

  Date: Friday 3 September 2010 7:04 p.m.

  To: David Thorne

  Subject: Re: tarded

  Ive deleted you from my facebook and reported you. i hope you die of aids fag. Dont bothering e-mailing me again becasue I wont read it.

  From: David Thorne

  Date: Friday 3 September 2010 7:12 p.m.

  To: George Lewis


  Subject: dneck

  Yes you will.

  From: George Lewis

  Date: Friday 3 September 2010 7:16 p.m.

  To: David Thorne

  Subject: Re: dneck

  No I fucking wont fag

  Scientific Model showing Tom’s head in relation to planetary mass

  Tom in his car

  Tom’s head badly photoshopped onto a lady with goiters

  Breakthrough medical operation brings new hope for Thomas

  It was Champagne all round last night in celebration of the medical breakthrough that, despite previous diagnostics, may indeed cure Thomas of the rare condition that has caused his head to swell to unimagined proportions.