Like many American families, Sunday mornings are sacred to us.
We usually enjoy a leisurely breakfast after waking naturally, unhindered by the constraints of the day or a blaring alarm clock.
Last month, however, I awoke to Samuel L. Jackson, or at least something that sounded like Samuel L. Jackson, yelling at me to see his newest movie, "Snakes on a Plane."
It began innocently enough with my phone beeping to let me know someone had a message on my voicemail. After dialing 1-2-3, I was startled into full consciousness by Samuel L. Jackson telling me that he knows it sounds crazy, but I've gotta see "Snakes on a Plane."
At first, I dismissed it, thinking the marketing geniuses had finally found a list of all our cell numbers (and we still can't find Bin Laden?!) and sent me an audible ad.
That is until Samuel L. Jackson told me to forget about school for a moment, stop fiddling with my "dorky glasses," and take my husband to "Snakes on a Plane."
Whoa, I thought. Samuel L. Jackson is totally stalking me.
It was the only answer. How else would Samuel L. Jackson know that I was in school, fiddle with my glasses, albeit not as dorky as he claimed, and had a husband?!
Toward the end of the message, Samuel L. Jackson said something about snakes taking a big nasty bite out of my butt, an empty threat, to be sure, and promised to come after me if we didn't go see his movie.
A little malicious, Mr. Samuel L. Jackson, but understandable considering the situation you're in, I thought. It's difficult enough to be a celebrity, but when you're stalking a member of the public like me, you turn to desperate measures.
As I hung up, Derek asked me who had left me a message. I spun around guiltily and wondered whether I should hide my cellular encounter with Samuel L. Jackson.
I opted for full disclosure.
"Derek, Samuel L. Jackson called me." I let my husband listen to the message.
Instead of fuming, however, Derek burst out laughing. "Look that up on the Net! That's awesome!"
I decided to placate Derek by Googling "Samuel L. Jackson voice message" and was amazed to discover I wasn't the only one Samuel L. Jackson was calling.
Apparently Samuel L. Jackson was yelling at all kinds of people to see "Snakes on a Plane." And the worst part of it all is, brace yourselves, it's not Samuel L. Jackson at all. The voice was a computer simulation of Samuel L. Jackson's voice.
I was being stalked by a robotic Samuel L. Jackson.
Turns out the "Snakes on a Plane" marketing guys really are geniuses who enlisted the help of VariTalk software to mass-market the nutty film. Even better, they put most of the work in the public's hands by letting online surfers send personalized Samuel L. Jackson messages to their friends.
The site snakesonaplane.varitalk.com allows you to type in your and your victim's names. I admit it, I submitted to the temptation of hearing Samuel L. Jackson say a bunch of my friends' names.
Once you type in their names, you can select personal details about them that the pseudo-Jackson will say. You could plug in a job, a physical trait, a hobby and mode of transportation.
Within five minutes, I had the Jackson-bot hollering at my brother-in-law Darren to quit playing video games, jump into his so-called sports car and see "Snakes on a Plane."
Shucks, before long, I just wanted to hear the robo-Jackson scream "Snakes on a Plane!"
I kept at it until my friend Karie called me. "Is this Genevieve?"
"Ha ha, yup, it's me! Snakes on a plane!" I laughed.
"Yeah, ha ha. If I'm on some kind of marketing list after this, I will kill you!"
Huh. Didn't think about that. I chuckled weakly, assured her that the "Snakes on a Plane" people were the best around, and said a fast prayer that our phone numbers would be wiped from any kind of marketing list.
When I returned to my computer, I quickly closed out of the "Snakes on a Plane" site. It's one thing to have a fake Samuel L. Jackson threatening you on a Sunday morning; it's quite another to be filling your real-life friends with venom.
Illustration by Jon J Murakami
