Before the nation was turned upside down by terrorism, and we were faced each day with digesting panicked headlines on the street corners, there was a kinder, simpler sort of news. Reports of infidelity in the white house, televised low-speed Bronco chases in L.A., and a vice president taking credit for paving the Information Superhighway.
In the one-notch-down-from-ultimate power position of being Vice President of the United States of America, it is unsurprising that Albert Gore assumed he was due some credit for the birth of the Internet. He read, weighed and John Hancock'd probably hundreds, if not thousands, of documents in his 8 years under El Cigarillo. I speculate that many contained legislation dealing with the military (which is rumored to have laid the infrastructure of the web) and the Federal Communications Commision. This is not, of course to say, I didn't chuckle with the rest of the world when he shot his gun off in public.
Though I didn't even suspect it those 4 years, I'm told by a close friend I was an exceptionally popular young man in high school. During those 4 years, and all the ones to follow, I did, and have done, much, I believe (I'm stuttering), to further the popularity of a rock band from the 1980's who call themselves the Pixies. From brief mentions to reinforcement for unsure consumers to homogeneously-loaded disc-changers to splitting up a 2-disc best-of set to distributing mix-tape anthologies, I believe I had an indirect impact of the young ears of the midwest.
This year, the Pixies, who split in 1992 due to inner quarrelling, have reformed and will be touring through Chicago this November. Believe me, I have a ticket. But, the shows sold out in a matter of minutes, and there was enough demand for tickets for the Pixies' stay to extend for 4 days, which, now, it will. I'm unaware of a similar scenario elsewhere in the States. Putting two and two togther, I can't help but get 5. I ask myself how many of the additional ticket holders know someone who knows someone, and so on, who knows or knew me. In short, I've got a Gore-complex.
We've all met the guy who started wearing thick-framed glasses before Weezer was popular, or the guy who says, 'I got you into that.' as you ooze mustard onto your eggs. I have a few of my own. In describing Sunkist orange soda, I uttered for the first time in my life, "It tastes like none other." I was gawked at for a moment by a fellow of inter-campus popularity in Milwaukee, and he asked me to repeat myself. No more than a week passed and kids on all sides of the tracks were fluffing their conversations with this phrase. Another related example in which I'm ashamed to admit I believe, came to light while I was in a waiting room in my hometown. A young mother chased after her escaping toddler whispering, 'George! George, get back here.' I was known and liked in my town. Who would name their kid George for any other reason?
By this time the reader may be a bit disgusted with me. I realize there is probably a psychological term borrowed from a Mediterranean myth to describe me to a tea. These things are fun to think about, but it's a big country. Trendsetters abound and want to take responsibility for what's hanging on your body, streaming into your ears, and going down your pipes. What's important is not how street folk conceive what's cool, but that all who may enjoy a band like the Pixies are aware, and will camp out at computers waiting for the tickets to go on sale.
To Al: Thank you for "during [your] service in the United States Congress, [You] took the initiative in creating the Internet." A lot of people are picking up where you left off.
