How to Dispose of a Dead Body

A long, long time ago, if you wanted to dispose of a dead body you had to drag it secretly across the moors, dig a hole, drop the body in the hole, replace the soil, and then cover the area with rocks, dead twigs and leaves and so on. And you had to wait for a long foggy night (so, November or March), and you had to do it without your spouse hearing you creak out of the back door! Times were tough back then.

We faced the same difficulty with anything that was a little difficult. If you had a forked penis or a bald spot, or didn't know how to dispose of a stolen bracelet, you were limited in your sources of data. The local priest or the local natural philosophers (soon to materialize as Astronomers, Botanists, Chiropractors, Doctors of medicine and so on) would hear you out, but always you ran the risk of the priest or doctor dropping hints in the form of gossip. You could never be sure that your secret was safe.

Then came the Internet!

Nerds could learn how to dispose of a dead body by typing weird command strings at the DOS prompt, but most of us had to wait for a WiFi router from Rogers Cable and something called Mosaic

THIS was the Golden Age of the Internet.

You could find a recipe for Rice Crispies without having to buy a stale box of Rice Bubbles. If you had a forked penis or a bald spot, or didn't know how to dispose of a stolen bracelet, you could find out without anyone else knowing of your dirty little secret.

What Power!

THAT was the Golden Age of the Internet.

That Golden Age is long gone now. No matter what you click or how you search, They Know About It.

I just searched for a tip on How To Remove Dried Latex Paint From My Trousers. Embarrassing! Kerry was painting my fence and I hopped over the fence and managed to snag some still-wet white latex paint near the crotch of my pants.

So into Firefox 83.0(64 bit) and ask Google (it doesn't matter how you ask) and within µseconds back comes the answer.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, or at least, back at the server farm, a record exists that at 19:33:30 on Sunday, December 06, 2020, one Chris Greaves of Bonavista was anxious about a matter concerning dried latex paint. Not drying, or how to dry, but about already-dried white stuff in the crotch of my pants.

No wait! It gets worse!! My browser reported that I did not click away from that page for two minutes and thirteen seconds. It follows that I was studying this matter very carefully, so it was of vital importance to me.

And unlike my priest or doctor, the server farm will never forget.

We are right back where we were a thousand years ago: afraid to ask in case anyone else learns about our dirty little secret, and whereas the priest or doctor would eventually die – or be killed and the body dropped in a hole on the moors - the racks holding the SSD's deep in the mountains, will outlast humanity.

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