Google Eyed

Despite my fascination with myself, I don’t make a habit of self-Googling. Like looking down at the world from a plane, Google makes you realize how insignificant you are. But I was still surprised when I gave it a try recently and found out just how many other Ezra Dyers showed up for the Google party.

Roughly half the Internet appears to be devoted to genealogy pages, which baffles me. Why do so many people care where they came from? My aunt once told me that my relatives go back to the Mayflower, which means that I ought to go apologize to the nearest Native American. Thanks for teaching my ancestors about fertilizer; sorry about the smallpox and alcoholism.

Google tells me there were lots of Ezra Dyers round these parts back in the 1800s. For instance, Dr. Ezra Dyer reported on a case of traumatic paralysis at the New England Ophthalmological Society meeting in the Back Bay in 1885. Wow, you must’ve been pretty smart, Dr. Dyer! Too bad you’re now talkin’ topthology with the worms!

A religious site has a story about Ezra Dyer. Or, more accurately, Ezra the Wool-Dyer: “When Jesus had spoken his words of commentary on the Scripture the whole assembly in the Synagogue fell into silence. But one person alone did not remain silent. Seated near the back of the synagogue, the man quietly began to cry. Many turned their heads to see who it was who was weeping. And they saw that it was Ezra, the Wool-Dyer.” The point of this story, according to the site, is that “the story of Ezra the Wool-Dyer provides us with a glimpse of how Eternity breaks into time.” What’s left unexplained is why Ezra the Wool-Dyer is such a pussy. Crying right there in the synagogue? This Ezra the Crier is hurting my tough, manly image. I’m going to tell Google this site is spamming me with dog porn and get it delisted. I’m glad I found out about this.

Ezra Dyer was also a big-shot lawyer in Oklahoma in the 1940s, while Ezra H. Dyer served as an officer with the Military Order of the Loyal Legion of the United States in Missouri during the Civil War. Way to go, Ezra H. Dyer! I was going to be bummed if you were a Confederate, but it appears you fought nobly against your slave-owning, toothless, inbred Missouri brethren (apologies to readers whose Google genealogy results show that they’re descended from toothless, inbred Missouri Confederates). Ezra H. Dyer, if I ever get interested in history and become incredibly lame, I’m going to play you in a Civil War reenactment.

There were also lots of close matches in the Ezra Dyer search, such as an excerpt from The Maddest Idea by James L. Nelson. This novel about the American Navy during the Revolutionary War features a character named Ezra Rumstick, who is quite the salty dog: “Rumstick followed his gaze out toward Dyer Island. ‘Men die in war, Isaac,’ he said after a pause. ‘They was men-of-war’s men, and they made a choice.’” Ezra, that is the saltiest dialogue this side of Captain Ahab or my leg’s not made of wood. Your grammar is appalling, but I’m sure I’d want you on my side during a naval battle or clichéd sentiment contest, you big fictional galoot.

Another interesting find was the “Dear Uncle Ezra” advice column on Cornell University’s Web site. Dear Uncle Ezra is written by Cornell founder Ezra Cornell, whose advice-dispensing credibility is called into question by the fact that he died in 1874. For instance, one parent writes to Uncle Ezra and asks why the school doesn’t offer more alternatives to drinking. Uncle Ezra responds that there are plenty of other things to do in Ithaca besides drink. For instance, students can “swim and use the gymnasiums for basketball, volleyball and badminton, or sign up for countless intramural sports, from soccer to innertube waterpolo.” Uncle Ezra, you’re so out of touch. Everyone knows that you only play innertube waterpolo when you’re totally wasted! Perhaps this parent should ask Uncle Ezra to set his daughter up with the guy who asked what steps he could take to improve his study habits. I’m sure he knows where the badminton court is. ∂