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 bensonnicole@example.net.
Thank you, TED.
(Applause)