We all know that language changes and adapts, but 20 years ago I don't think I would have ever written this: I hate-clicked on one of those clickbait sites.

(Makes you wonder what they will say in 20 years. "I bile-winked on a time-suck vortex," perhaps.) Anyway: The link had a picture of an impossibly winding road, and said "[PICS] The 39 Most Dangerous Roads in the World: Minnesota Takes the Cake."

I hate sites like this, but I had to see if some rutted two-laner on the Range was worse than a Peruvian path with 36 switchbacks.

Cake taking, as we all know, means we would have the worst road on the planet, right? But Minnesota was not on the list at all. We neither took a cake, or were bestowed a cake. The site had read my IP address, and inserted my location into the copy, thinking I would click. And it worked!

There was another ad on the page, touting a new miracle robot mopper. Note: Robot Mopper sounds like a rock 'n' roll singer in a Jetsons cartoon. I was unaware there were robot moppers. Vacuum cleaners, yes. But moppers?

First line in the ad: "The Robot Mop That Mops Like You Would."

This is not exactly an endorsement. I mop with a Swiffer WetJet, which has a tank of floor juice and a replaceable pad. I'm not sure how much it cleans, but it leaves things wet and shiny, so that counts, right?

I don't want a "Robot Mop That Mops Like You Would." I want one that mops like my wife would, which involves kneepads, vinegar and an almost Sicilian vendetta against the stuff that gets in the corner.

Another selling point: "Enjoy complete control of your mopping."

I have to admit I have not suffered much from incomplete mopping control. It's not as if my Swiffer unexpectedly jerks out of my hand and flies around like a witch's broom while I chase after it until I lean, exhausted, against the wall, wishing that I could someday enjoy utter, total, unchallenged mastery of my mopping routine.

What they mean is this: The robot mopper has an app, so you can schedule your automated mopping. O, brave new world, with such marvels! With a tap of my finger, I can summon my servant to mop as I bid, and there will be no doubts about who stands atop the hierarchy of power here.

What's that I detect? A hesitance in the Robot Mopper to completely eliminate the faint trace of dog paw? Well, let me show you who's in complete control, mister.

Final attribute: "Mopping that fits seamlessly into your life."

This, right here, is where I knew I had to own the thing. We have, as a family, struggled to integrate mopping into our mortal existence. When I got the Swiffer WetJet, I thought: This will help us fit mopping into our lives, inasmuch as it mops, and we are alive. It never occurred to me that mopping could be inserted into our lives in a way that showed no seams.

I want one, but it seems a big expense. We'll have to endure uncontrolled mopping with visible life-seams. For now I'll have to hate-mop, and doesn't that just take the cake.

james.lileks@startribune.com • 612-673-7858 • Twitter: @Lileks • facebook.com/james.lileks