It's pretty hard to find a phrase or expression that is not out there somewhere on the Web. I know. I've tried. No matter how unlikely it may seem that anyone has ever put certain words together, someone, somewhere, probably has. When I Googled the exact phrase "Santa Claus nude," I got 278 hits.

It's tricky. For example, I tried Googling "unintelligent Jew," which not only denies a ubiquitous cultural stereotype but uses an unusual adjective to do so. I figured I was safe, but this is what came right up: "I have yet to meet an unintelligent Jew."

More failures followed. After a while, I got mad and decided to do something about it.

Want a phrase that doesn't appear on Google? Try searching for the Magritte-inspired, epistemologically impossible sentence "This phrase doesn't appear on Google." You should find only one hit, and that hit is from the very paragraph you are reading. When I wrote this, before it was archived, that sentence was nowhere on the Web.

Voila. The assault begins.

When a phrase cannot be found on Google, I call it a Googlenope. Once a Googlenope is discovered and written about, it is no longer a Googlenope.

Every single exact phrase that follows could not be found on the Web before today:

Googlenope.

Queen Elizabeth's buttocks.

Varsity pinochle.

Caviar 'n' taters.

Much to Paris Hilton's embarrassment ...

I was helped by the federal government.

I (heart) my zygote.

Next, boil the toast ...

If you take off your bra, I'm calling the cops.

Jesus loves you for your money.

Rove should just shut up and look pretty.

I believe dust mites have souls.

This lobster must have been Roman Catholic.

Plush Osama doll.

I'm fixin' to solve me the Shimura-Taniyama conjecture.

The best pork chops in Jerusalem.

Tiffani Suarez.

Antwaan Rothschild.

Rajneesh Roosevelt III.

Billy Bob Nussbaum.

Mohammed Ciccolini.

Moishe Goebbels.

Please accept these underpants as collateral ...

I owe my life to unprotected sex.

I'm going to be concentrating on my home-wrecking now.

Bad, bad Leroy Moskowitz.

Thor adjusted his mascara.

Richard Cheney in '08.

Nelson Mandela is a doo-doo head.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious-esque.

My grandchildren are so ugly.

The Iraqi Regis Philbin.

Hey, this tastes like aardvark.

Laura Bush's secret tattoo.

I'll take Deaths by Autoerotic Asphyxia for $400, Alex.

Hot cheese sundae.

Cancer, heart disease and zits.

I'm Stephen Hawking and I'm a Capricorn.

Pizza with Condoleezza.

Dogs playing poker and mah-jongg.

The dainty Hillary Clinton.

Man-boob implants.

Acid klezmer band.

Wearing only a codpiece and a sombrero.

The yodeling librarian.

George W. Bush's subtlety.

Sonnets by Elmer.

Insufficient cellulite.

Lou Dobbs' hash pipe.

The sensual feel of the speculum.

Soren "Porky" Kierkegaard.

The billionaire manicurist.

I should note that I sought, and used, the help of Post colleagues in assembling these lines. Several of my co-workers dryly suggested that I would find zero Google hits for "Gene Weingarten is hot." Actually, they were wrong. There was exactly one. Unfortunately, it began this way: "I know it's sick and unnatural, but I kind of think ... "

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