There are 26 very good reasons I Googled “How to murder your wife and get away with it” 26 times last month
The first time, I was looking for the show How to Get Away with Murder and forgot the name.
The second time, I was explaining to a coworker that the rate of unsolved homicides in the US is actually much higher than people think. He then said he just wanted to know who’d been eating his lunches out of the breakroom fridge.
The third time was an accident.
The fourth time, I was watching The Staircase and was curious how often police investigate household accidents for evidence of foul play.
The fifth time, I asked Alexa “how to manage your wifi when you’re away from it” and she misunderstood me.
The sixth time, I was looking for the docuseries Making a Murderer and forgot the name.
The seventh time, I was reading about the D.C. sniper case and wanted to see how they found out he was targeting his wife and, hypothetically speaking, how he could have hidden it better.
The eighth time, I accidentally x’ed out of the browser window and had to search it again.
The ninth time, I wanted to anonymously send my wife a box of crows for her birthday. It’s an inside joke.
The 10th time, I was trying to explain to a friend that if I had caught my ex-wife having dinner with Ron Goldman, I would have waited a few weeks before doing anything to avoid suspicion. She then said she just wanted the orange juice to make a mimosa.
The 11th time, I was bored.
The 12th time, my cat jumped on my keyboard. Actually, my wife’s cat. She comes home one day and says “I got a cat” and I say “shouldn’t I have been included in this decision” and she says “come on, look how cute she is” and I’m like “you always do this” and she’s like “do what” and I’m like “make impulsive decisions and just expect me to deal with the consequences” and she says “well, maybe if you occasionally removed the 12-foot stick from your ass, you wouldn’t hate all living creatures” and then we didn’t talk for three days. Anyway, the cat’s dead now.
The 13th time, I was looking for the show The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel and forgot the name.
The 14th time, I was just making sure my new website, Howtomurderyourwifeandgetawaywithit.net, was getting good SEO.
The 15th time, my wife borrowed my laptop to search “how to make blueberry scones” and it autocompleted.
The 16th time, I just wanted to make sure I didn’t miss anything.
The 17th time, I was cleaning the fingerprints off my keyboard and accidentally searched it again.
The 18th time, I was explaining to the investigators looking for my wife that people who murder their wives typically make a show of their grief to hide their guilt and I was, in fact, expressing the appropriate amount of emotion. They then said they just needed to know how to spell her name for the report.
The 19th time, when confronted with the evidence that I had Googled “How to murder your wife and get away with it” 18 times already, I said “so what, that doesn’t prove anything!” and Googled it three more times on my phone before being restrained.
The 20th time, see above.
The 21st time, see above.
The 22nd time, I was explaining to my lawyer the conversation I had with investigators.
The 23rd time, I was explaining to my new lawyer the conversation I had with my first lawyer.
The 24th time, I just wanted to make sure my website was still the top search result and a guy in jail let me use his phone for a pack of cigarettes.
The 25th time, while acting as my own counsel, I demonstrated to the jury that a simple Internet search does not make someone a wife killer, even if it’s repeated 24 times. After all, if we put a microscope to their online activity, what would we find? How guilty would they look? Were they so sure that search history could prove criminal behavior that they were willing to lock a man up for the rest of his life?
The 26th time, I was looking for the show Murder, She Wrote and forgot the name. This prison’s got a great computer lab.