Two cowboys — we’ll call them Roy and Butch — are out riding on the south 40 one day when they stop to take a piss. They are whizzing happily into some bushes when a rattlesnake lunges out and bites Butch right on the tip of his penis.

Butch yelps in pain and surprise and falls to the ground. “What happened?” asks Roy.

“Damn snake bit me right on the johnson!” yells Butch. “What do I do, man?”

“I’ll Google it,” says Roy.

He runs over to his horse and grabs a laptop out of his saddlebag. Fortunately, he is able to get online right away; the agricultural megacorporation that employs them provides a strong signal everywhere on the ranch so they can track their cattle via satellite. Roy types in “snake bite treatment” and within seconds brings up an illustrated PDF showing how you cut open a snake bite wound and suck out the poison. This must be done almost immediately, it says, or the patient’s hope of survival is slim.

Roy studies the PDF silently for a minute, and Butch finally speaks up. “So what does Google say?”

Closing the laptop, Roy says gravely to his friend, “Google says you’re gonna die.”