**disclaimer** this is a true story. it may prompt you to take action. which may lead to frustration. continue reading at your own risk.
two years ago, a coworker and i were talking about old-school dance songs we secretly loved. after the obvious ice ice babys and bell biv devoe, i brought up a song that has always made me smile -- one that i rarely hear. i believe it's called 'dangerous on the dance floor,' by Musto & Bones. we reminisced about Rita and her remarkable moves, and i even admitted that back when i was 11, it took me a minute to figure out which article of clothing the 'over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder' was referring to (what can i say? i was slower then).
we agreed that those lyrics were pretty funny, and i wanted to check out the rest. i turned to my rock, my reliable, bet-settling, go-to pal: Google. it was a tricky search, so i put in phrases that included the title and what i could remember, the name of the album:'The Future is Ours,' Musto & Bones, and even their first names, one of which i think is Tony. i found the cd for sale, reviews, people referencing the song and lots and lots of message board comments.
but no lyrics.
'this cannot be!' i exclaimed. 'why, the Internet knows no bounds; it has EVERYTHING! you just have to know how to find it. i must be doing something wrong.'
i considered it a challenge. for two days only the bare minimum as far as actual work was done in my cubicle, where a legendary quest had begun. i tried different search engines, databases -- blogs, even -- but couldn't seem to find the gd words. i mean, the lyrics are compelling, they're fast and the song has a pretty good beat, from what i remember. why wouldn't some mope want to archive it for all eternity on the world wide web? But as the search continued in its fruitless state, i started to look for the why. all i could come up with was 1990. that's when it was made. and by the time the Internet was taking off, that was too soon to be considered 'old' but too old to be considered 'current.' besides, fans of that song would be way past that moony teenage window of excitement and devotion wherein people invest hundreds of hours posting lyrics when they first discover online publishing. plus, i'm pretty sure it was a one-hit wonder.
so, putting the fear of my own ineptitude aside, i picked up the phone to dial the second most reliable source of information: my local library.
'this is the library, can i help you?'
'hello, um, i have sort of an odd question. you see, i'm trying to find the lyrics to this, er, song from the '90s.'
'well, do you have the artist and title?
'yes. dangerous on the dance floor by Musto & Bones, off the 1990 album, the future is ours.'
'i totally remember that song! man, when we were in college, we'd always dance to that one! ha ha! i haven't thought of that song in years. 'she's dangerous on the daance floooor, dangerous!' '
'yep. that's the one. i just can't seem to find the lyrics.'
'oh, don't you worry; i'll find them. it should be easy. is there a number i can reach you at this afternoon? oh, this will be the most fun thing i've had to research all day.'
yeah, so she called back. to say she'd had no luck.
i still persevered for a couple weeks after that, but never did find the lyrics. it was a difficult moment in my life. you see, the two most reliable sources of information had failed me. my foundation was shaken. and it took a good long while before i could trust google again, however, i can't complain; it hasn't failed me once since. but now i know it's not omnipotent. it was a little like that time when i was 15 when it started to sink that my dad doesn't know everything, afterall. it was a crushing blow.
i had tucked this away in my memory until just recently, when i was talking to a very savvy computer person. i casually mentioned how google had failed me, and he immediately scoffed. so i challenged him to find the answer, even promising to be his best friend-- a reward i don't just throw around. he came back just as frustrated and jaded as i am. if you're reading this, my friend, i know you haven't totally given up on the web. i'm sorry, buddy.
it's a bitter pill to swallow, but sadly, i have learned: even The Internet has its limits.