Akron
Targeted web ads are pretty amazing/creepy. With Gmail, it's usually pretty easy to trace how that ad got targeted to you. A simple use of the word "mustache" in the body of an e-mail might yield, "Mustache Cups: Great anytime gift for men Many styles to choose from www.countrycc.com." As with everything, however, Facebook's coding just doesn't seem to be quite as precise. I am completely baffled as to what might have prompted this ad:
Moving to Akron?
Let me, Donna Deagan, help you find a great deal on a new home. I've helped others, let me help you. See what others have had to say.
Perhaps it is a response to the thoughts I've had in the last year about possibly relocating from Chicago to some other city? I can't say I've ever considered Akron, but maybe it has some hidden charms that I'm unaware of. It reminds me of this passage from Mary Chase's wonderful Pulitzer Prize-winning play (and later, my favorite film) Harvey, starring Jimmy Stewart as Elwood P. Dowd, the best friend of an invisible 6 foot three and a half inch tall magical rabbit named Harvey. Elwood has just explained to Dr. Chumley, the director of the mental institution where he has been committed, that Harvey is able to overcome both time and space and take you anywhere in the world for as long as you want and no time will have elapsed. Dr. Chumley explains what he would do with this power.
CHUMLEY. I know where I'd go.
ELWOOD. Where?
CHUMLEY. I'd go to Akron.
ELWOOD. Akron?
CHUMLEY. There's a cottage camp outside Akron in a grove of maple trees, cool, green, beautiful.
ELWOOD. My favorite tree.
CHUMLEY. I would go there with a pretty young woman, a strange woman, a quiet woman.
ELWOOD. Under a tree?
CHUMLEY. I wouldn't even want to know her name. I would be - just Mr. Brown.
ELWOOD. Why wouldn't you want to know her name? You might be acquainted with the same people.
CHUMLEY. I would send out for cold beer. I would talk to her. I would tell her things I have never told anyone - things that are locked in here. (Beats his breast. ELWOOD looks over at his chest with interest.) And then I would send out for more cold beer.
ELWOOD. No whiskey?
CHUMLEY. Beer is better.
ELWOOD. Maybe under a tree. But she might like a highball.
CHUMLEY. I wouldn't let her talk to me, but as I talked I would want her to reach out a soft white hand and stroke my head and say, "Poor thing! Oh, you poor, poor thing!"
ELWOOD. How long would you like that to go on?
CHUMLEY. Two weeks.
ELWOOD. Wouldn't that get monotonous? Just Akron, beer, and "poor, poor thing" for two weeks?
CHUMLEY. No. No, it would not. It would be wonderful.
ELWOOD. I can't help but feel you're making a mistake in not allowing that woman to talk. If she gets around at all, she may have picked up some very interesting little news items. And I'm sure you're making a mistake with all that beer and no whiskey. But it's your two weeks.
CHUMLEY. (Dreamily.) Cold beer at Akron and one last fling! God, man!
ELWOOD. Do you think you'd like to lie down for awhile?
CHUMLEY. No. No. Tell me Mr. Dowd, could he - would he do this for me?
ELWOOD. He could and he might. I have never heard Harvey say a word against Akron.