by Kurt Channing
The internet has turned out to be one gigantic intellectual scab. We know we should leave it alone — the prying at its edges and pressing at its cracks is not exactly going to make it go away. Still, we persist, and cheerfully email the infections we uncover to all our pals. I’m part of the problem — I’m writing about the stuff. You’re reading about it. Welcome to the club.
Case in point, the most famous Turk since Istanbul was Constantinople: Mahir. If you don’t already know his name, or even if you do, check this out:
At one point, it is estimated that Mahir entertained 12 million visitors to his personal web page (for a recent version, somewhat true to the original, investigate the site). I think that’s significantly more than the number of people that ever got to meet
— and feel like they knew — Alexander the Great. And Mahir didn’t have to gallop around the steppes and die from monkey bites — he was able to conquer the internet in between bouts of ping pong, travelling and sex. And his “profession jurnalist.”
The whole point here, if I haven’t made you go look at the goddamn site already, is that Mahir is leveraging his considerable talent into a pop music career. Why not? Can’t be any less talented than the Spice Girls or the Backstreet Boys. Maybe we can arrange for a duet with Britney. I hear Mahir has a spare bed or two.