so, there you are, merrily prancing away in the background of a mid-range pop video, when you are plucked from obscurity by the libidinous excesses of the pop queen in question. a torrid love affair, brief marriage, briefer hip-hop career and two children later and you're a search engine. wait, what's that you say luke? a search engine? yes, that's right. immortality can now be guaranteed for the fleeting famous via your new incarnation as a search engine. because, why would anyone use a regular, exhaustive search engine, when they could be touring the web under the watchful gaze of search with kevin, which surely ranks amongst the most uninspiring concepts of all time. bottoming out somewhere alongside syphilitic plague. for me, fun searching generally involves the easter bunny and a fuckload of chocolate, or the possibility of finding a body in a swamp. searching with kevin, on the other hand, involves the possibility that you may be made one of his top 8 myspace friends. and boy, you would rule the school with that. ain't nobody gonna fuck with k-fed's homies.
[via hypocritical mass]
