Dear Albert Berg,
Does your treachery know no bounds? Does your power have no limits? Have you no shame good sir?
I must admit that at first I was someone bemused to find your Wikipedia entry was the first to appear when that noblest of search terms, “Albert Berg”, was entered into the all powerful search bar of Google.com. I read with some curiousity to see what you, my namesake, could have done to have your name enshrined in that hallowed hall of internet knowledge, perching ever so tantilizingly just above the search result that would lead readers back to this very website. But over the months my curiosity turned to frustration and my frustration to boiling anger. With each successive post, with each tag cloud carefully seeded with my name I expected to rise above your mediocre achievments.
After all, what is your work compared to mine?
One football game. ONE!
And one that you did not win good sir. There are those in the world who would try to dissuade my from writing this letter no doubt they believe that after all of these years you must be dead. But I know better. Is it for nothing your date of death is listed as unknown? No I suspect you still walk amongst the children of men, alive and well.
And after all these years I, only I, suspect the truth. It was no coincidence that you lost that game, that one single football game played at the dawn of that great American sport. You threw that game intentionally, purposely placing your players in positions of weakness at every turn, frustrating their brave-hearted efforts mercilessly.
But who could blame you? For this one game, this one single moment of loss, you were offered the greatest gift of all: the gift of eternal life. And did it matter from whom that gift came? Did it matter if he hid is hooves in his boots, and his breath smelled of sulfur?
And how could you know? How could you know that from that one moment of time the course of history would shift and pivot toward a new path. One game. It seemed so inconsequential at the time. But surely by now you must see as I do, the true consequences of your actions. Dare I speak the name of this new evil, one you unwittingly helped to birth into this world with your selfish lust for eternal life? No. I dare not.
But mark my words: This. Is. War.
I will hound you. I will wage the battle until the skin is flayed from my body and every one of my bones is broken in a hundred pieces. I will not rest until it is MY name at the top of the pile, the first in the list of blessed results.
You may enjoy your ill-gotten mortality as the years roll by, but I will defeat you in the arena of SEO. Of this you have my solemn vow.
Sincerly,
Albert Berg
P.S. I see that as I was in the very throws of writing this blog post, you had the gall to update the Wikipedia page that bears your name with a date of death. Do not think I am fooled. I know you are out there no matter how hard you may try to cover your cloven hoofed tracks.
The Unsanity Files 