Absract: Internet know us, ads tell what internet know.
Question: Who am I? It's a very common question that people ask after getting hit on the head by bulky objects. I have recently conducted a very very very scientific study, to answer this very age old question!
Hypothesis: The internet and the google and the jello and the pudding have been recording whatever we do on the internet, for the ads with the spoon and the smiles.
Prediction: The ads which appear on this very webiste www.comedywhiled.com very likely know more about me than even I do!
Test: I will record the ads that appear on the bottom of the page, and evaluate myself through them. I shall have to be impartial, so I will now erase my identity ...... Done.
Analysis1: I deserve a great value. I also need money, or know someone who does, and am willing to send or receive it ... for a great value.
Analysis2: I am pretty bad at keeping a consistent outline on these images. Perhaps I didn't have the patience to zoom in. Also, I'm interested in buying a car that looks like it's smiling at me, but only if they have it in my favorite color. Also, I'm fond of puns that involve 50 cent words.
Analysis5: I am a person who just cannot see the logic in buying furniture. Perhaps I am setting up a high stakes five card monty game in my living room, and might need to book at a moment's notice. Logiclally this ad means that I am either very stupid, or a fraud of some kind.
Analysis6: This kind of backs up the fraud thing, because where do fraudsters go with their ill gotten gains? That's right: hotels in what looks like an oceanside resort.
Analysis7: Perhaps I am looking into this children's hospital charity, to get more pictures of sad looking children to adorn my bottles of counterfeit wine. Because nothing sells a short con like a sympathy play.
Analysis8: I loves me the letter H.
Analysis9: I am thinking of taking my sad child picture encrusted counterfeit wine global, baby.
Analysis10: I love not seeing the AMC show "The Walking Dead", and not being able to watch television when the weather is bad.
Analysis11: My Fraudulent wine wrapped in pictures of children is doing very well, very well indeed! Muah hah hah! I require more flexible credit, but I must remember to keep my transactions under $10,000 to avoid all those pesky anti-racketeering laws.
Analysis: I love it when television shows suddenly stop for 7 minutes, continue for 4 seconds, then pick up again 3 minutes later. Also, I love watching a swirly thing on a black background.
Analysis13: City of Hope has gotten wise to my using pictures of their sick kids on wine bottles. My analytics have been suggesting that pictures of happy children might put rubes in more of a gullible mood. I must be thinking of jumping out from this tall grass and taking pictures of these happy children for my bootleg hooch.
Analysis14: I am rolling in money from the move to pictures of happy children on my bottles of fake wine. The decision was a good one. Once again though, my auto buying preference hinges on color alone. I wisely select the color that most closely resembles caucasian skin.
Analysis15: Like all criminal masterminds, I am seeking immortality, through the use of this "super fruit". Also, I am a "super fruit racist" who believes that Mexican avacados have mystic ethnic powers, like that one guy from The Green Mile.
Analysis 16: I have grown weary of this lonely life of ill gotten luxury, and am courting a gold digging bride, whom I can only presume I met in one of those ski lodges, of which I am so fond of doing cocaine inside.
Analysis 17: My computer is secretly working against me. Perhaps it was my lovely soon to be ex wife. Oh well, one day sooner or later, all she'll get is a room full of rental furniture (and, if I'm unlucky, a caucasian hued BMW)
Analysis18: Oh, man, this is not good. A four door MINIVAN! Ugh. I've obviously gotten her pregnant. Dear god, now I'll have child vomit smeared across all my rented furniture!
Analysis19: This bootleg child picture wine scam was supposed to last only a few months, tops. Now they've got me paying taxes like a common housecat! Taxes! Me! What, are they going to tax my caucasian BMW next? Time to relocate to the Galapagos.
Analysis20: An oddly attractive woman wearing clown makeup is offering me a sliding bar with money on it. This entices me to say the least. Does it get more expensive when the thing slides closer to her taunting yet alluring clown mouth? As a caucasian BMW owner, I demand to know!
Analysis21: Apparently, things have not gone well in the false vintage wine with pictures of sad or happy children on it business. I am currently searching for ungodly hell holes full of toothless inebriates to lay low in. Was it the taxes that did me in? Was I mad to father a child to a gold digger designer jewelry addict? No, it was that clown faced vixen who did me in. I'm sure of it now. That Ringling Brothers smile ... that beckoning hand was poised on the money slider of my heart. It was love what did me in. Love! We could have been so happy! Love me!
Analysis22: Clearly, I have not chosen to hide out in the swamps. Instead, it is obviously the basement of a close relation where I am hiding. Either that, or I live in the ads on the back of a late 70's comic book.
Analysis23: My paranoia is clearly getting the better of me. Was that sound the police dogs beating down grandma's door, or just a few leaves scuttling in the wind? Right, they un-friended me, then I put in my information, and johnny law drives a tank through granny's door, and straight down the stairs into the basement. They think they can catch me? Ha! I don't even flush my wastestuff DNA down the toilet anymore! Sorry CIA, thought you were gonna get me the same way you got bin laden? Ha!
Analysis24: Classic cars, the weakness of every red blooded american criminal mastermind in hiding! Well played, CIA. Golf claps and pats on the back all around. How, How can I resist strutting around looking like a Dick Tracy villain, when I'm supposed to be keeping a low profile! Aww, dammit they have one in caucasian! I'm finished!
Apparently, Who I Am is: a wine forging criminal who puts pictures of happy or unhappy children on bottles. I have impregnated a lady who has gone from diamond studded stilettos to minivans, and is about to get a visit from the rental furniture company any minute now. I've been found out by the government, with the help of Flo, the progressive insurance lady, whom I just cannot stop thinking about. All my old wine forging friends are unfriending me as quickly as they possibly can. I am currently on the run, and the government is trying to flush me out from my underworld life of lightsaber battles and classic car shows.
Well, at least I know now, who I truly am.
EXPERIMENT: A SUCCESS!