Verifying we're human

[Disclaimer: This is filed under "humor." Please don't really think that I'm offended by the word tests. Most of you are just far too nice, and will really, actually worry, and wonder if you should stop using them. No. Don't. I'm just trying to be funny. And, now that I've ruined any chance of being funny by explaining my humor, you may read on. But only if you can type this: qwevhtz]

The other day, I read some favorite blogs and slogged through The Test. You know the one -- I use it on my site, too, to prevent automated robots from leaving me less-than-informative spam. I thought, "There's a short post here."

Then, I visited Suzanne, and read this post, and realized that I'm not the only one. And, she just posted my post, so I postponed posting. (Do be sure to read the comments on that post ... Nutmeg's is especially funny.)

But now, I'm going to post anyway, because I have a sick Ramona on my hands and will be going to a late Mass. So, I have time this morning. Poor Ramona, and poor you.

My post was to be entitled, "Things that shouldn't hurt me feelings but do" and the first thing on the list was these little tests, which treat me as if I'm an intruder.

"You don't really belong here, do you?" they seem to taunt. "Prove to me that you're safe. Prove you're human."

With an understanding heart (since my blog asks for the same thing) I do my duty. I type nyzyrrq and then -- I should be allowed to move on, right? I'll be nodded to, approved, waved through the gate, won't I ?

Noooo ... I've made a mistake somewhere. The test pops up again, and asks, again, that I prove I am truly human.

This, of course, is an existential question on which a computer isn't really capable of discourse. Now I'm a tiny bit irritated.

And offended. Not only am I an intruder, I'm a moron. Who can't type. (Typepad is particularly devious, as the letters are placed against a grey and fuzzy background. It's daring us: You. Just. Try. To read. This. The words, "Open the pod door, Hal," spring to mind.)

Sigh.

I try again (and sometimes again) and finally find I've been successful. I'm the moronic intruder who broke the code! I'm in! My comment will be published!

The next sigh is one of satisfaction.

The existential angst has, for now, been overcome. My voice will be heard. I have triumphed over the machine.

Luddites, unite.