As the warnings on television sometimes say: “This program may contain violence, nudity and coarse language. Viewer discretion is advised.”
Ditto with today’s musings: “This column may contain topics that might be an embarrassment to some. Reader discretion is advised.”
Despite having been exposed to the internet for many years, I am still uncertain as to how exactly it works, and even whether it is safe to use, that indeed, someone in Russia or Washington has my information and might, right at this moment, know that I’m sitting where I’m sitting, and researching what I am researching to share with my portion of the public.
I recently did fairly extensive research into various models of cars, trucks and SUVs with the idea of figuring out which one might be compatible with my driving abilities and my wallet.
Almost instantly, even when not on car dealership sites, car and SUV deals would pop up on the side of the computer screen. “That’s creepy,” I told Housemate. He laughed at my chagrin. Even after I had made my vehicle choice, the pop ups continued, and by the end of a month, I wondered how much longer I would be bombarded with vehicle options.
But that is the least disconcerting ability of the internet.
Because I have an interest in recipes (even ones I would never consider making), I have been known to sign up to a number of free sites that on a daily basis offer a single recipe or a variety of recipes to read and think about creating.
But lately the recipes seem to be buried among ads for other products or videos by supposed authorities on what to eat and when, and even how to make visits to the bathroom more enjoyable. Yikes.
Right there in the middle of the directions for making the dessert of the day (a lemon juice pound cake) up popped an opportunity to learn how to “entirely empty one’s bowels every morning.” I did not click on the link because I feared that once again I would be subjected to chances to buy products that might or might not work, even if I were interested.
Usually these messages involve long and convoluted videos that eventually lead into the pitch for buying a pill or powder that will cure all ills, from top to bottom. No thanks, not today, nor tomorrow.
A most disturbing trailer for a vegetable that we are advised to avoid came as part of a grouping of salad recipes. Buckets of carrots were dumped into the commode and flushed, suggesting some ingredient in carrots will eat our insides. That was disturbing, not only because I love carrots but because I worried about the possibility of a clogged sewer. Besides, one of the salad recipes had carrots as a main ingredient, leading me to wonder at the compatibility of the messages.
Some chemical on corn will lead to a leaky gut, an ailment I assume one should avoid. Celery, apples, strawberries, potatoes, soy beans, squash and potatoes are also on the list of items to avoid for the safety of one’s health.
Again, on the dessert site came a photo of a large person with an extremely large belly, accompanied by the cure: drinking a cup of a special beverage every night before bed to burn off belly fat while one is asleep.
Ads also promote German hearing aids, cures for skin tags, and breakthrough brands of CBD oil that amaze doctors.
I was absolutely amazed by one pop-up ad aimed at solving the problem of thinning hair. The man sits there with half of a red onion on his head. I convulsed with laughter. Could the onion then be chopped into a salad or sliced for onion rings?
Did the man cry when the onion was sliced or did he save his tears for when he realized he was supposed to use the juice of the onion and not a hunk of the onion?
So to recap: I’m off to bed and hope to rise in the morning with all my belly fat burned off. The rest of what might happen in the morning is no one’s business and is part of that readers’ advisory.
Joyce Walter can be reached at ronjoy@sasktel.net
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect the position of this publication.
