Have you ever, in an idle moment, given in to the temptation to Google yourself, possibly in the hope of seeing if the world at large values you as highly as they should? Or maybe to make sure that, if people were to search for you, they would not be misled by a bunch of impostors? I have, and I'd like to share some of the results, if you don't mind (if you do mind, quit reading-no sense in wasting your time on my prattle when you could be doing other, more important things with your life, like Googling yourself).
Typing my name in the search field yields a drop down list with several possible topics, mostly, I assume because the good folks at Google understand that no one could possibly be searching just for Zach Davis.
To be fair, they are right in this assumption: I am Zach Davis, and I'm not much interested in reading about me. The items in the drop down list include, among others: "zach davis facebook" (definitely not me) and "zach davis basketball" (even more not me than the previous, unless someone has a video of me getting hit in the face with a basketball back in high school gym class).
When I clicked Google Search (because I was definitely not feeling lucky), the first four results are all related to a Zach Davis who is an ultimate fighter. In case you may have been wondering, I am not an ultimate fighter-this is another Zach Davis. I understand your confusion, however, since we are both in peak physical condition in addition to sharing a name.
There are also six images that are displayed, the first four of which are of the aforementioned MMA fighter. The fifth is of a very angry-looking baseball player. My guess is that he's angry because he's playing baseball, which has been scientifically proven to cause intense irritation and boredom in all (or at least me) who watch it. Baseball is an unending cycle of tedium and life-sucking ennui that twists and turns back in on itself like the universe's most depressing Mobius strip.
But getting back to those images, the sixth one returns to our old friend the MMA fighter, this time with his face bruised and hideously swollen. I know how he must have felt-my facial injuries, although not quite as pronounced or severe as his, were pretty painful after I got hit by that basketball. Actually, now that I think about it, I guess it's really not the same thing. That's another way readers will be able to tell us apart: he's the one that's had his face beaten in by another man's fists, elbows and knees, and I had a red mark on my face for about an hour from a basketball. Closely related, but not quite the same. Whose was worse? No real way of knowing.
The next result is for an Appalachian Trail blog that chronicles another Zach Davis's journeys on a 2,179 mile hike. This is clearly not me, as anyone who knows me can attest that I have a debilitating allergy to the outdoors and suffer from a crippling fear of things that are good for me.
There are several obituaries for Zach Davises, none of which are for me. Unless, of course, you're reading this in the future, which means one of them very well may be for me; if this is the case, how does it feel to have a person communicate to you from beyond the grave? Boo! Terrifying, isn't it? What's that noise behind you? Is it me, sneaking up on you to terrify you to the very marrow of your bones? No, it's not. How could it be? I'm dead, remember.
There is a Zach Davis who works as a production assistant (although he cheats and spells his name with a -k on the end) and one who is an equine properties specialist, which made me wonder: what sort of equestrian properties are out there and available on the market? I'd imagine it'd be really hard for horses to even secure financing to purchase a property, let alone find someone who was willing to rent an apartment to a horse; sadly, discrimination still exists in our culture, but so long as there are brave people like Zach Davis out there securing properties for horses, the righteous cause of full equine equality will not fade.
According to the White Pages listing, there are two people named Zach Davis in Iowa. I am neither of these two.
In short, out of 520 entries displayed by searching for me on Google, none of them are actually me. Hopefully I can take how little known I am and use it to my advantage. I think I'll start blaming my missteps on the other Zach Davises in the world. It wasn't me that forgot to take out the trash, it was one of those guys in Iowa. I'll have to think about who to blame any future traffic tickets on-not the MMA guy, that's for sure. My guess is that he hits harder than a basketball.