Like most seniors, I’ve done a lot of thinking about my online profile, and I’m understandably concerned that the NSA, Google and the FBI may not have an accurate impression of the real me. I do my share of online shopping and, as you well know, computers track not only what we buy, but also what we browse. We are then offered suggested additional items for which we have no need, but may wish to purchase anyway. On Amazon alone, I’ve found obscure vacuum cleaner parts, a step for our truck and untold numbers of books. Normal stuff that, while not painting a picture of coolness, is at least on the correct side of wacko. However, in the past few months, I may have skewed my image.
One of my relatives who is young enough to know better, is channeling my grandmothers and watching Lawrence Welk DVDs. What can I say? He obviously has no satellite, cable or other connection to the outside world. Because I wanted to brighten his holidays, I sent him a couple of Lawrence DVDs for Christmas. He was thrilled. It was only later that I considered what damage I’d done to my online image, and the pigeon hole I had put myself into. I had a feeling my niche was overflowing with pick-up trucks, cleaning supplies, champagne bubbles, and Norma Zimmer types.
To further complicate matters, recently there was an altercation between my Prius and a deer, and I’m here to tell you that neither party came out a winner. Luckily, our insurance covers a rental, so my husband, Mick, went into SLO to pick up our new, temporary ride. I suggested that he bring home something interesting and he came back with a black Dodge Charger. It was an impressive car, but of course by the time I walked outside for the inspection, it was covered in dust and various animal hairs. You know what they say about black cars never looking clean. No matter, we were now stored on the Web as fans.
Profile S. Davis: Short, female, 70 knocking on the door, likes reading, appliances with bags, the Lennon Sisters, macho muscle cars — black.
Note: may also like Bobby, Cissy and professional wrestling.
Needless to say, I drove the Dodge for two days and decided to trade it for something more appropriate. There were many reasons for the switch, not the least of which, the windows were the size of portholes. Also, while driving, I felt the need to adopt the persona of a 19-year-old male with tatts and a soul patch. The tattoos and hairs sprouting from my chin were not a problem, but I was at a loss as to how to shave 50 years off my age. I headed back to town.
The youngster behind the counter at the rental agency was very accommodating and got me a special deal on what I know Janis Joplin would have considered a more fitting vehicle. The salesman once again entered my information into a computer and waved goodbye as I pulled onto Broad Street driving an, “Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a ” Mercedes-Benz.
Profile S. Davis: Can read, likes semi-large sucking appliances, expensive wine, accordions, polkas and living above her means.
Note: May also like: tattoos, roller derby and Janis Joplin memorabilia.
But finally, the online coup de grace came while watching a well-known comedy/news show with my daughter. The host was discussing the most recent Chinese moon rover, which, oddly enough, was named Jade Rabbit.
According to the report, poor Jade didn’t do well on the lunar surface and died a slow death as she texted her final farewells to the Chinese people. With no time to waste on mourning the space loss, the TV program flashed several other items that sported the Jade Rabbit handle, the last one being an X-rated item available on Amazon. We wondered if they were telling the truth, so of course we Googled Ms. Rabbit.
Lest I disturb your delicate sensibilities, let me just say that the item comes in pink and purple and, in the not-too-distant past was advertised as a way to cure women’s hysteria. I didn’t purchase the item, as I am retired, and therefore hysteria free.
Suzanne Davis is happily retired and living in the South County with her husband and their three dogs. Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org.