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Friday, January 28, 2000
Danielle Crittenden
National Post
Perhaps you are familiar with the miserable situation I find myself in as I write this. For the past four hours I have either been talking to a computer technician or holding for a computer technician. Right now I'm on hold again, writing on my husband's laptop, and listening to Muzak over the speaker phone as the current technician consults -- what? the skies? Tarot cards? a voodoo doll of Bill Gates? -- to figure out exactly why my operating system has collapsed.
This disaster was triggered by my research into Internet screening software. My eldest child has just reached the age (eight) at which the Internet can be what the stash of old Playboys in the basement was to kids of my generation. When she was a baby, her father and I used to look forward to the day when her abilities would outstrip the dog's (walking, word recognition, and finally talking). Now her abilities on the computer have outstripped ours, and she is eagerly passing them to her younger brother.
I turned first to Net Nanny, a program that promises to filter out offensive and pornographic Web sites. I chose it largely because I liked its logo of a traditional English nurse pulling the plug. I thought this was exactly the sort of censorious, prune-faced electronic babysitter I wanted monitoring my children's computer use. I downloaded the software from its Web site for a free trial, and relaxed -- until I tested Net Nanny myself.
It seems that Net Nanny had got into the sherry when I wasn't looking.
Or maybe she was just less prune-faced than she appeared. With nary
a blush from her, I was able to pull up the homepage of Chippendale's
-- a chain of male strip clubs -- with a picture of a nude man fondling
an erection surrounded by flashing advertisements for click-on pictures
of "hardcore anal sex," "top nude male models," and Pamela Lee Anderson
performing oral sex. I was also able to reach the "Go Ask Alice" sex
advice column (sponsored by Columbia University!), which offers guidance
on such topics as group sex and even bestiality (which Alice says is
fine so long as it's legal in your state).
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Alice
then helpfully directed me to "Eve's Garden," an online sex shop, where
I could order any number of "exotic dildos" and harnesses ($25-$78).
Net Nanny only expressed agitation (by flashing a warning sign) when
I clicked on a dildo called "The Whale." She didn't mind "Private Dancer"
though. Tastes differ, I guess.
Net Nanny
also didn't object when I did a Yahoo search for "paedophilia." Nor
did she blink as I entered the site of "Philia-Interfaith News on Boylovers
and Girl-lovers" (sic). She cheerfully accompanied me to a joint called
"Mad X Where Teens Are Real Horny" that posted photos of young girls
in pigtails masturbating.
I was so astonished I went back to the software controls to ensure Net
Nanny was, in fact, on the job. The controls assured me that "Net Nanny
is Turned On," as indeed she must have been (baby!).
I decided to do one last search of a different kind -- for politically
incorrect Web sites. It was at this point that Net Nanny revealed to
me her blue stockings. Suddenly she got very balky. She began madly
flashing warning signs when I went to the Family Research Council's
press release on the danger of the new gay curriculum in public schools.
And while she wouldn't let me near the Web site for the anti-immigration
group American Renaissance (access denied), she permitted me without
a murmur to visit both the communist party Web site, as well as one
belonging to Muslim extremists.
That's what led to my computer disaster. I sent Net Nanny packing, and
signed up for Cyber Patrol, the filtering software by Mattel. Cyber
Patrol seemed altogether tougher-minded. Its motto, "To Surf and Protect,"
is accompanied by a police badge logo. Did I say tough? It was so effective
it immediately shut down my entire computer, threw my operating system
against the wall, and imprisoned it without bail. So here I am, on hold
-- the computer equivalent of Riker's Island. As I sit strumming the
table and cursing Cyber Patrol (the technician told me he fields 10
to 12 calls a day from people who've had similar experiences after downloading
this software), I have another thought: I can now see why someone like
Bill Clinton wants the Internet in every classroom. But do the rest
of us?
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