How Much Does Google Actually Know About Going Out Clubbing?

Google is a search engine. Because it is a search engine, I have assumed that Google knows everything because Google exists as something which collates knowledge and spews it all over a clean white page for our viewing pleasure. If Google doesn't know something it must be unknowable, I'll stop there before I sound like someone doing a Mock the Week audition tape routine about Donald Rumsfeld.

The other night we found ourselves wondering how we'd explain what we did for a living if an alien beamed down to earth and asked, in perfect English of course, if we could explain what it is we do all day at work. We realized that it was harder than it seemed. So we found an easy way out.

We asked Google to tell us a little about the clubbing experience, from music, to drugs, to the clubs themselves. What we found out was shocking and left us questioning everything.

A) Life is hell. It's all hell. This whole damned earth is a living hell. Why should a club be any different?
B) You've been going to the wrong clubs, Google! And you're meant to know everything.
C) Pardon?
D) Admittedly, we've all found ourselves in a club at one stage or other thinking, "Hold on, this is a bit shit actually. I have paid money to stand in a dark room for a few hours, not really able to speak to my mates unless I go and stand outside in a holding pen where the floor's been replaced by a 2" carpet of cigarette butts, what's the actual point of this?" And then you remember that the idea of things being a "waste of time" works on the assumption that there's an objective hierarchy of how best to spend our time on earth. It's an assumption which assumes that reading a difficult novel is a better use of time than eating Wotsits and having half-hearted wanks. It's a fallacy. A total fallacy.

Conclusion: Google knows nothing about nightclubs.

A) Oh, apparently it is.
B) Oh, you get to decide that now, do you? There we were, thinking you were an intentionally unresponsive platform that offered up content without interpretation, but it looks like someone's getting a little big for their boots. Who are you to tell US that house music is bad? You don't even know what music is! You aren't real! What are we doing!? Help us!
C) Woah, little bit bold there, Google. Does anything really die? In any real sense? I mean, yeah, beings die but house music is an abstract concept and a concept can't actually die. It can wither. It can atrophy. It can sink into the mire, but it can never really die. And anyway, when there's amazing artists like Friend Within around, how can house music ever die? It's still alive and well, thank you very much!
D) Google mate, I know you probably don't read THUMP every day, although you technically do scan it continuously, so cheers for that, much appreciated, but we've been over this before. The idea that house is a feeling makes about as much sense as the premise for this article or something else that's a bit whacky. House is just music. It's all just music. None of this means anything. All art is a deferral of the thought of our impending death and the rot that follows.

Conclusion: Google knows nothing about house music.

A) Have you ever read anything as evocative as that? Honestly? We've read at least twelve novels and we've never seen anything close. Unbelievable. Magical. This is language at its very, very best.
B) We didn't want to know about racing.
C) We didn't want to know about racing.
D) We didn't want to know about racing.

Conclusion: Google knows nothing about raving.

A) Weird that Google is actually just a 14 year old boy, isn't it?
B) Ha, nice joke dudes, I like it, it's like a visual pun on how faceless techno producers are. That's very funny. I like it a lot. That's a good joke. Really funny. A good, funny joke. Great stuff guys!
C) Is it?!
D) What does that even mean? Bird song, arguments, the amorous cries of aroused dolphins, chirruping self-service machines in Spar, a Radio 4 documentary about the IMF, the relentless drone of your own breathing patterns, literally anything — this can all be heard as music. Nothing isn't music. Nothing on this whole fucking earth isn't music. I thought we were meant to trust you, Google!

Conclusion: Google knows nothing about techno.

A) It never left, baby! Seriously, the disco revival happens more often than I change my boxers and for the purposes of this sentence I only own an amusingly small amount of boxer shorts, which means that Google falls on the first hurdle.
B) Pakistan's capital can lay claim to being many things—having a population of 4.5 million, hosting the 2004 SAF games tournament, and 5815 hospital beds—but it is not the genre of music commonly referred to as disco. Another fuck up from the boffins at Google.
C) What type of music is Panic at the Disco? Well, I'll tell you: Pop rock; baroque pop; pop punk; pop; emo; alternative rock; hip hop. Not disco. I repeat, they are not disco. I know it's quite tricky because they have the word 'disco' in their name and language is famously something that only has one set of meanings, but honestly, they aren't a disco band.
D) THAT'S WHAT I'M ASKING YOU! I AM ASKING YOU THIS! YOU SHOULD KNOW! YOU'RE GOOGLE! THIS IS WHAT YOU DO! I DIDN'T SIGN UP TO GET STUCK IN AN INFERNAL DISCOURSE LOOP WITH A MEGA-COMPANY THAT HAS STRANGE ATTITUDES TOWARDS TAX!

Conclusion: Google knows nothing about disco.

A) Classed as a what? Spit it out. Don't keep us hanging…what's it classed as? A drug? A way of life? A waste of money? What? What, what, what?
B) Ain't that the truth! I mean, yeah, obviously, all it really does is make you feel a chemically induced sense of well being towards anyone and everything and obviously you don't love swans or the Radio Times or Rob Brydon quite as much as you've been telling everyone for the last three hours, but you know, it's better than the abject, grinding misery of daily life. Mine's a pinger…or two!
C) It's very safe mate, very sound. Nice one, Google lad, I'm growing to like you.
D) Never have truer words been spoken. I love you mate, honestly we don't say it enough but I fucking love you, Google :)

Conclusion: Google's fucking great actually mate I really like him actually mate why don't you just try and be a bit more open for once yeah?

Try Google out for yourself here.