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I wrote this poem after hearing a pretty well known actress
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tell a very well known interviewer on television,
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"I'm really getting into the Internet lately.
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I just wish it were more organized."
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So ...
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(Laughter)
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If I controlled the Internet,
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you could auction your broken heart on eBay.
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Take the money; go to Amazon;
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buy a phonebook for a country you've never been to -- call folks at random
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until you find someone who flirts really well in a foreign language.
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(Laughter)
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If I were in charge of the Internet,
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you could Mapquest your lover's mood swings.
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Hang left at cranky, right at preoccupied,
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U-turn on silent treatment,
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all the way back to tongue kissing and good lovin'.
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You could navigate and understand every emotional intersection.
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Some days, I'm as shallow as a baking pan,
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but I still stretch miles in all directions.
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If I owned the Internet, Napster, Monster and Friendster.com
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would be one big website.
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That way you could listen to cool music
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while you pretend to look for a job
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and you're really just chattin' with your pals.
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(Laughter)
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Heck, if I ran the Web, you could email dead people.
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(Laughter)
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They would not email you back
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(Laughter) --
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but you'd get an automated reply.
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(Laughter)
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Their name in your inbox
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(Laughter) --
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it's all you wanted anyway.
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And a message saying, "Hey, it's me. I miss you.
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(Laughter)
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Listen, you'll see being dead is dandy.
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Now you go back to raising kids and waging peace and craving candy."
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If I designed the Internet, childhood.com would be a loop
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of a boy in an orchard, with a ski pole for a sword,
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trashcan lid for a shield, shouting, "I am the emperor of oranges.
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I am the emperor of oranges. I am the emperor of oranges."
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Now follow me, OK?
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(Laughter)
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Grandma.com would be a recipe for biscuits and spit-bath instructions.
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One, two, three.
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That links with hotdiggitydog.com.
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That is my grandfather.
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They take you to gruff-ex-cop-on-his-fourth-marriage.dad.
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He forms an attachment to
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kind-of-ditzy-but-still-sends-ginger-snaps-for-Christmas.mom,
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who downloads the boy in the orchard, the emperor of oranges,
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who grows up to be me --
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the guy who usually goes too far.
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So if I were emperor of the Internet,
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I guess I'd still be mortal, huh?
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But at that point, I would probably
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already have the lowest possible mortgage
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and the most enlarged possible penis
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(Laughter) --
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so I would outlaw spam on my first day in office.
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I wouldn't need it.
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I'd be like some kind of Internet genius, and me,
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I'd like to upgrade to deity and maybe just like that --
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pop! -- I'd go wireless.
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(Laughter)
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Huh? Maybe Google would hire this.
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I could zip through your servers and firewalls like a virus
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until the World Wide Web is as wise, as wild and as organized
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as I think a modern-day miracle/oracle can get, but, ooh-eee,
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you want to bet just how whack and un-PC
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your Mac or PC is going to be when I'm rocking
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hot-shit-hot-shot-god.net?
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I guess it's just like life.
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It is not a question of if you can --
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it's: do ya?
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We can interfere with the interface.
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We can make "You've got Hallelujah" the national anthem of cyberspace
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every lucky time we log on.
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You don't say a prayer.
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You don't write a psalm.
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You don't chant an "om."
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You send one blessed email to whomever you're thinking of
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at dah-da-la-dat-da-dah-da-la-dat.com.
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Thank you, TED.
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(Applause)