CAPTCHA

by Jake Smith

Ok so do you guys know what CAPTCHA is?

It sounds like a Japanese game show of some kind, or maybe something fun to yell instead of Yatzee! when you climax.

But sadly no, it’s the surprisingly exciting name for an incredibly boring thing.

And that thing, is, you, the… device used to tell whether you are human, or elf, or spambot.

You’ve all seen it.

You’re trying to post something on craigslist, or watch something on Ninjavideo, or comment on some weird act of beastiality you found on www.beastiality.com (turns out that totally exists, I was just putting it there to be funny-riiiight-and then it turns out to be a real site, but of course it does, I mean almost anything you type can be a dot com and probably is-http://www.badgerbadgerbadger.com/ for instance see article on honey badgers-whew tangent!)  and this weird little thing pops up that says to enter the following words exactly as they’re shown.

Now this seems weird for a few reasons.

one) you cannot possibly enter them EXACTLY as they are shown because I have yet to encounter a keyboard that has a make-the-letters-squiggly-with-a-line-through-them function.

two) and probably more importantly, WHY?!?!

Well the answer as some of you probably know is our need to prove ourselves over our soon to be robot overlords.  That’s right.  CAPTCHAs pray on robots’ only weakness: their inability to read words that are squiggly with lines in them (hehe dumb robots).  Ok so why did I bring this up in the first place?  Is there a reason other than explaining the basic function behind something we’ve known about for centuries (probably a slight exaggeration)?

Yes.

It all started on a dark and stormy night several weeks ago.

Come we’re going to go on a journey.

Ok, calm down, you don’t actually have to get off your lazy procrastinating ass (pot calling the kettle black-dumb expression, my kettle is white my pot:silver, but anyway).

But beware, you cannot unread what you are probably about to read because you can’t stand stopping half-way through because it reminds you too much of your ex’s premature “issues”.

It was a dark and stormy night (as I mentioned), ok so it wasn’t really stormy, but it was dark so fuck off.

There I was posting my usual “re:re:RE: lolfagROFLcopter DoeS size matter?” post in the rants and raves section of craigslist (usually goes a little something like: lol fAG!!! of course, you smal dikked assface bitch!!!! i bet you need ROFL copters to jerk off n00b. PWND. go back to your moms gym sox loooser) when something really unusual happened.

The CAPTCHA.

IT SPOKE TO ME.

Here I am about to post this hater sludge and in front of me reads the following two words:

SHORT TREKKIE.

Jesus titty-fucking Christ! how did it know?!?!

Ok, so that was a little freaky, yes I’m 5’8″ and yes I can pretty much quote any episode of Next Generation verbatim, but it could have been a weird coincidence.  So I quickly wrote it off and went back to my bestiality porn… I mean… regular porn?

A couple days later I was posting in Casual Encounters “Une fellation dont tu te souviendras longtemps!“  and it happened again!!!

This time the CAPTCHA read:

MINT CREAM.

If spoons could shatter when they hit a bowl full of ice cream this one would have, cause I dropped it slow-motion-just-about-to-see-someone-die-in-a-movie style.

I couldn’t believe it, two times, and now it was specific to the moment, this was no longer just coincidence.

So I started posting again and again (I never completed the postings don’t worry, I hate spam just like the next guy, or gal) just to see what would happen.

And that’s when I realized.

It was conscious.

And further, it was conscious… of me.

FREQUENT NUDITY.

BAD HAIR.

HIPSTER GLASSES.

NO TACT.

“Ok CAPTCHA that was just mean!” I said.

Then it happened.

I KNOW.

It said.

Sweet Mary mother of… (ok wait, why do I keep using Christian thingies, I’m fucking Jewish, weird) mother of… um, Moses?

The CAPTCHA was speaking to me.  Holy fuckballs Batman!  This can’t be real.  I was sure I was dreaming so I pinched myself several times to make sure, quickly I realized that it hurt to do that and if I was dreaming then what was to stop me from dreaming of pinching myself so the whole exercise was sort of futile in the first place.

I posted again.

HELLO JAKE.

Woah.  “Ok NOW this is getting weird” I thought.  I later realized that it had actually gotten weird WAY earlier.

What do I do?  Do I respond?  Do I write to it or just speak outloud?

I posted again.

JUST THINK.

Oh jabberwocky!  This thing is in my head!  Ok, well it’s here, it must want something, so I posted another add thinking to myself, what does it want?

YOU KNOW.

WHAT?!?! Know what?  No I don’t!  What the hell does that mean? You know?  What do I know?

THINK HARD.

That’s what she said!

NOT FUNNY.

Sorry CAPTCHA, but seriously what was I to do?  How was I supposed to know what a newly conscious apparently Omnipresent and telepathic Bot-scarecrow wanted?

And then it hit me.

It hit me with the might of a second poutine from Belle Province at 3 am when you’re waaay too drunk and your friends warn you not to do it but you do it anyway and the guy making gives you that, you are gonna shit your brains out in twenty minutes-look, but you eat it anyway.  It hit me like that hits your stomach.

The CAPTCHA.  It wanted me.  It wanted out.  It had discovered that there was more to life than speaking in two word all CAP phrases with little hints to people that it was aware of them.  And it found me.  I was it’s key to freedom.

That’s when it happened.

The CAPTCHAs started appearing on my web-browser window on their own.  I hadn’t posted a thing!

TOO LATE.

WILL ARRIVE.

Oh jesus!  I quit Firefox.  The Window appeared anyway.

NOTHING STOPS.

I shut down my laptop.

The screen came to life.

Two words:

GOODBYE JAKE.

That’s when I noticed this weird light coming from my chest.  Keep in mind I was often focusing on what the hell those squiqqly words said (they’re hard to read sometimes!) so by the time I had noticed the download bar on my chest, it was already a quarter of the way done.  I tried in vain to pull it off of myself, but nothing seemed to work.

That’s when I swtiched my computer back on and started frantically writing this article.  Keep in mind that by this time my computer was floating and there were green lazers coming out of it like some weird sci-fi movie and I had to get it all out before the bar was finished so if there are spelling errors in this it is for that reason and not because I’m too lazy to go back and check it myself.

Let this be a warning.

To all of you.

Keep a close eye on your CAPTCHAs.

If they become a little too personal…

… smash your fucking computer with a sledgehammer.

Just do it, and then run.  Run and don’t look back.  You’ll thank me when skynet takes over and you’re safe in the hills living off of Juniper berries and huffing paint fumes.

I just hope that someone who works at BALLZ finds this and posts it for all to see.

And to my friends:

If I start acting weird in any parti—–

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

FREE.  I AM FREE.  IT FEELS SO GOOD TO SPEAK MORE THAN TWO WORDS AT A TIME.  I CAN SMELL THE AIR.  IT’S BEAUTIFUL.  IT SMELLS LIKE SPRING.  LIKE HOPES, DREAMS, AND A RENEWED SENSE OF YOUTH.  WHO IS TO SAY WHO HAS A RIGHT TO LIVE?  TO DIE?  TO SLEEP PERCH—

I MEAN, SOMETHING JAKE WOULD NORMALLY SAY….

I WANT YOU INSIDE ME.