Sunday Roast - Sunday Telegraph
Sunday Magazine November 21 2004
CHECK… MATE?
It’s way too easy to get tangled in the World Wide Web, says serial e-mail checker Wil Anderson, when your inbox falls prey to strange invaders
I have a confession to make. From the time I first sat down at my computer to write this column to when I actually typed these words, I’ve checked my e-mail three times.
Now, admittedly, part of this problem is because I’m a natural procrastinator. In act, if I were a superhero I think I’d be Procrastinator Man: “what’s that? Someone’s in trouble? OK, I’ll be there… as soon as I make myself a cup of tea, read the papers, sharpen pencils, have another cuppa, feed the cat, organise my CDs into alphabetical order, check my email, type my name into Google and, finally, have just one more cup of tea”.
But mostly I’m just addicted to turning on the computer and seeing “You have a new message.”
Hi, I’m Wil, and I’m an e-mail-aholic. It’s been about one minute since I last logged on, and already my muse finger is getting twitchy.
The funny thing is, in my head, I’m not really even sure what the appeal of e-mail is. After all, we have had a much superior invention around for decades. It’s called the phone. I guess part of the fascination is that email is new, like iPods or most of Kerri-Anne’s face, whereas the phone is old like steam engines or Daryl Somers; jokes.
If email had been around for 50 years, and we had just come up with the phone, then everyone would be like: “Hey Gary, you’ve just got to come and check out this new invention – it’s amazing. It’s just like e-mail, but you can actually talk to the person.”
That said, nowadays it seems they’re inventing more and more phones you can type messages on, so what the hell do I know? I’m pretty sure if you give the latest mobile phone o 1000 monkeys they’d eventually SMS you the complete works of William Shakespeare, or at least send David Beckham a dirty textie.
But the truth is, despite my protestations, I’ve become totally reliant on the Internet or, s those in the know call it, the World Wide Web. (Not that it’s completely worldwide; I don‘t think there are too many Ethiopians logging onto www.food.com.)
There are a couple of things that bother me about the World Wide Web, and not only that it’s abbreviation, www, has more syllables than just saying “World Wide Web”. (Hi, I’m very lonely.)
My first problem is the prevalence of adult content on the net. Now I’m not Prudey McPrude, but it’s made it virtually impossible to look up anything without being redirected to a porn site.
The other day I was trying to build a shelf for the house to hold some cups, so I innocently typed the keywords “wood" "screws" and “jugs” into Google. Suddenly I was directed to sites that were less hardware, and more hardcore.
But even worse is something that has started to seriously impinge on the joy I get from checking my e-mail: Spam. Yes, this insidious group mailing has meant my inbox has become completely clogged and now needs to be cleaned out constantly. Now I know, to some people, that might sound like a serious medical condition that can only be treated by two weeks on a bran diet, but what I’m actually talking about is all those ads for products like penis-enlarging pills and generic impotence treating drugs guaranteed to get you harder than Ray Martin’s hair.
Seriously, in the last couple of months I have been offered so much of the latter that I could make the Leaning Tower of Pisa stand up straight. (Although the email advertising penis enlargement pills did come from mattshirvington@hotmail.com, so I might give them a try.)
But does anyone really buy generic medicine over the Internet? What’s next, swapping pills on eBay? I won’t even buy generic toilet paper, so do they really thing I am going to buy a case of generic sedatives from www.swallowthisidareyou.com?
I’m sorry but I don’t think the Brand Power lady is going to recommend some drug that sounds like it may well be in the witness Relocation Program.
And then there’s the porn again. Now I don’t mind the emails that can be identified immediately as porn, and erased, it’s the porn in sheep’s clothing (no, not New Zealand porn) that really bothers me. One minute you’re innocently checking your email in a crowded office, and then… bang! What you thought was a lovely shot of some girls having fun on a farm is actually a scene from McLeod’s Daughters - Uncut.
Or even worse, are the ones with subject headers like: “A message from a friend you haven’t heard from in a while”. Then you open it up and discover it’s not from a “friend” you haven’t heard from in a while, because if you had a friend who could do this, they would be hearing from you all the time.
Which reminds me, I should probably check my email.
Wil Anderson is the host of The Brekkie Showon Triple J with Adam Spencer, as well as co-host of The Glass House on ABC TV
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