The other day, I was just minding my own business–by that I mean, I was chuckling to myself about jokes I had made days ago–while surfing the internet.
In particular, I was still yukking it up about my own White Sox Cyber Monday article–where I made fun of Oney Guillen and plaques that no one would want–when I decided to check out what Matt had written.
Alright, reading about Gonzo on Twitter and well, hello there, rookie Frank Thomas background, don’t you look lovely today–WAIT, What’s that in the bottom corner of my browser!?!?
Maybe zoom in a little.
Why it’s an advertisement for the inexplicable framed photograph of 80’s backup catcher Mike Squires with a black eye! (as Chris Lamberti noted, a black eye probably delivered by Eddie Murray in a fit of rage over Squires’ misbegotten 1981 1st base Gold Glove award), still available at the WhiteSox.com store! Apparently they have yet to all be gobbled up by devoted Squireans (Squirites? Squirinos? Squiring-dings?)
But wait! There’s more! There are small photos of two other options.
Hooooooleeeeee crap, it’s the Chris Widger and Brian Anderson plaques! Wow, is that ever blurry, just like my memories of Chris Widger’s play beyond “it was adequate in 2005, it was not in 2006″, or my memories of having hope for Brian Anderson, or Mike Squires’ vision after whatever the hell happened to his eye.
Of course internet advertisements no longer work like highway billboards. There aren’t Mike Squires ads popping up all over because a groundswell of demand has taken place, it’s because I spent two hours on my computer taking screenshots of these products and that activity was getting tracked. But maybe that groundswell, is just about the start.
Between those two hours of browsing the page of the Mike Squires commemorative photo/plaque, the traffic for the first post mentioning Mike Squires, the Mike Squires-related comment stream, the multiple times I accidentally clicked-through the Mike Squires ad, and now this post, there’s been A (relative) EXPLOSION of mentions of Mike Squires running through those invasive web activity tracking…uh…trackers.
Imagine if you will.
A sleepy MLB.com shop distribution manager running across the explosion of Mike Squires mentions, emerging right at the start of the holiday shopping period. He glances at the sole framed Mike Squires commemorative photo, which is currently situated under his room temperature glass of Diet 7-Up.
“My God,” he mumbles, before staggering out of his chair to the phone.
“WE NEED ALL THE FRAMED SQUIRES PHOTOS!!!”
“All of the what? Jody, are you drinking sugar aga–”
“ALL OF THE SQUIRES, DAMMIT! THIS A FREIGHT TRAIN COMING AT OUR FACES THAT’S FULL OF ACID”
The mechanisms of production whir into action, prisoners are razed from their bunks for a late-night manufacturing shift, 700,000 units are ready by Monday, each one bursting with love.
None are sold, but coincidentally, Mike Squires hangs up the very same photo in his own garage.
Follow James Fegan on Twitter @JRFegan