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