Google guilt in KC

Help me Google. I’m slow. I have three data plans right now and yet your primary colored bunny looks really cute and I almost clicked it when I read the editorial about your cool mystical service. One hundred times faster. Will you sell your data by the gallon or will this be a deep reservoir from which we can drink anytime, as much as we want?

I have this glowing pride, Google. Pride that you chose us. You must have looked at a Google map and noticed how we’re in the middle of America. Perhaps you read some history about the area and received inspiration from this geographical junction of two big rivers.

I’m feeling guilt about you, Google. I just can’t hop over to you right now. For one thing, there’s no there there. What is it? Somehow a bunny isn’t going to grab $1,440 a year plus tax just by being cute. Life’s pretty complicated right now. Have you heard all the talk about the streetcar we desperately desire in downtown Kansas City? We need to connect people with Lego-land. People need their greeting cards. So much we need. I’m feeling the longing and the need for your speed, but like I said, life’s pretty complicated right now.

It’s so comforting to feel your love for us. We need whatever it is to be faster. It’s really cool to have such a smart company here looking over our needs. You’re so smart few folk from here could pass your entrance exam. You’re clever too. So clever that Google is now a verb and a noun. Google is a place. Googled is a funny adjective. Wow.

Have you considered spelling fiber with an “re”? Fibre. That looks really smart.

Forgive me, Google. I’ve been a loyal user of your software fare for a long time. I use your chrome browser to browse. Your email service rocks. For right now though, since my building downtown can barely handle Time Warner, and AT&T spews their digits into my living space over rickety copper wires, and since I need to petition the UN Security Council to modify my Verizon sentence, I mean contract, you won’t hear from me for a while.

I’m glad you’re in Kansas City to save us.