I love the internet.
Shocking, I know. But all that information at the tips of my fingers just tickles the world-conquering megalomaniac in me. I am a Google Master. I can find anything. Seriously, they should offer some sort of ninja degree or something.
When I was about nine or ten, I remember my mom talking my dad into buying a set of used encyclopedias for the house. Sure, they take up a lot of space and they can be rather pricey, but you can look things up in them. It doesn’t even matter if you actually find these things, it’s the looking up that matters. Because, as my mom explains, then you see something else interesting, and then something else, and before long you’ve killed hours browsing the encyclopedia. That’s right, I’m descended from a woman who believes in reading the encyclopedia for leisure.
Now take those encyclopedias and increase the information in them exponentially. That’s right. I’m doomed. The urge to cruise the information superhighway is like a drug in my blood. Excessively melodramatic prose optional.
Why bring this up? Only to offer some justification as to why I have just spent the past four hours browsing old comic book covers on this site with no end in view.
“Batman you have been found guilty of witchcraft. I sentence you to be BURNED AT THE STAKE.” –Superman
I love the internet.
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