The Innards of the Internet
So this is what the Internet looks like. I’ve heard stories that it was filled with rotting cartilage and different types of glands, tubes, and capillaries that made it all work. But this, well, this is something completely unexpected.
I’m sure somewhere there’s a computer expert who can tell me why the Internet needs canisters of gunpowder strewn about its hallways, seemingly at random. Is it at random, or is it some carefully encoded pattern that’s vital to routing packets or delivering pizzas or whatever it is that the Internet does these days?
And is that a sandstorm off in the distance, about to reach a pack of gazelles? Why is there a sandstorm on the Internet? Is that some kind of distributed denial of service attack kind of thing, or does it have more to do with the Valentine’s Day pastrami sandwiches that that I saw the PTA selling at the entrance?
You would think that having such an intimate view of the Internet’s most intimate regions would give me some special insight into Internet-type things, instead of just all of these questions. Unfortunately, I don’t think I know enough to really appreciate what I’m seeing. I mean, I knew the Internet needed earthworms to keep itself running, but I had no idea that it needed so many millions of earthworms, all noisily slithering around the calcium-encrusted tunnels that make up the Internet’s backbone.
And what’s that music playing in the background? It’s like a wiggly new wave polka that someone blotched together with some fleshy piano landscapes dotted with the detached heads of rejected American Idol contestants.
In conclusion, the Internet is a strange and shimmering place, filled with scary lumberjacks and jovial teriyaki chicken. But I certainly wouldn’t want to stay here. I’m likely to get eaten by a hazelnut.