Harry Claude Cat
Candid shot
1994
Mac, ClarisWorks & mouse
NEXT
ESSAY
Alone
for the afternoon, HARRY CLAUDE CAT'S personal secretary Thomas stared
out the big windows in the corner office on the 8th floor of One Mingo Plaza,
gazing down at the intersection of Twitter and Hack. Standing next to HCC's
desktop, he idly spun a coffee mug thereupon, mechandise from the Wrevel
Plastix account. Thoughtfully chewing some Spuzberger's Chocolates, he fingered
a box of Mawbowo cigarettes.
Being a nonsmoker, Thomas didn't open the box. "Chocolate and cigarettes, two big clients," he silently reflected.
After a few minutes of quiet, Thomas entered his smaller adjoining office, sat at his smaller desk, put on earphones and began transcribing dictation. His fingers tapped black vintage IBM keys on the pale oak wood keyboard. Words poured onto the big Sun monitor screen, also encased in oak.
"The net exists to sell itself. It has no other purpose. Even the noncommercial sectors of it such as misc.writing serve to sell the net by focusing the attention of subscribers on the product.
"What does the net sell when it sells itself? Computers, software, peripherals, and the like, of course. Net accounts. Cable TV. Access to commercial websites.
"What is the product, then? Ultimately, the net sells advertising, which in turn sells the net. Therefore, the product being sold is advertising. The net is itself an ad advertising itself. The consumer's point of origin on the net is an ad, which leads to the ultimate destination, which is also an ad. Everything along the way is an ad as well, including every post in noncommercial newsgroups such as misc.writing.
"Those of us who are aware of these facts stand to gain. Tremendously. The rest are sheep. Or at best they're larvae that might emerge from their cocoons as butterflies, someday. Probably not, though."
Thomas transcribed the words of his boss.