I see some of you are making light of my “banished from Google” situation, and that’s cool. It’s what we do here: make light. But it’s no good, no good at all, and affects more than just the people too lazy to type our URL into the navigation box.
Google drives a shitload of traffic, you see, and if the Surf Report is no longer in their index, I instantly lose twenty percent of my visitors. Yeah, some are these weirdos, but most are legitimate searches, for things like Alli side effects and Ads vs. Reality.
As it stands, the people doing such searches won’t find the original pages. They’ll be sent to sites where my stuff has been ripped-off, or won’t be able to locate it at all.
And that’s highly frustrating.
Also, the Surf Report ranked well for the phrase “fast food.” Do you know how many times per day people do searches for that phrase around the world? Yeah, I don’t either, but it’s a lot. We were sometimes the number one and number two result, which is pretty amazing, and now we’re nowhere to be found.
And I don’t want to get too inside-baseball here, but folks who visit the site via search engines are good for “business.” (I use the term loosely.) They click ads and navigate around more than regular visitors. It’s just a fact of life. When people get accustomed to a website they train themselves to not see the ads and links and things. But new visitors put a little extra beer money in my pocket.
Plus, there’s a danger that this person/thing could do serious, permanent damage to the site.
It sucks. I’ve had a person go in and get rid of the hacker code twice, and it comes right back. I don’t know if someone is reinserting it, or if it automatically regenerates. Regardless, it’s causing me to lose sleep; the circles under my eyes are now the size of dessert plates.
The whole thing eats turds, corn on the cob-style.
I’m watching the 1975 World Series again, and it’s fantastic. I have all seven games on DVD — the original NBC television broadcasts — and they still get my blood to pumping.
In ’75 I was twelve years old, and fully invested in the Cincinnati Reds. Thirty-five years later I find I still have passion for that team, buried ‘neath all the baggage and scar tissue collected along the way. Just seeing Tony Perez take a practice swing makes my heart skip a beat…
I wish they’d release the 1976 Series, as well. But the Reds swept the Yankees in that one, so I doubt it’ll ever see the light of day. It’s not exactly an edge-of-yer-seat experience, like ’75 was.
My friend Tim collects old baseball broadcasts and sent me a DVD of a 1972 playoffs game between Cincinnati and Pittsburgh, with all the original commercials in it. That’s a lot of fun, too. But it’s not really the Reds I knew. It’s an embryonic Big Red Machine, if you know what I mean.
Do you ever watch old sporting events, where you know the outcome in advance? Toney thinks it’s nuts. She says, “What’s next? Random weather forecasts from 1989?” But I love those old Reds games; I never get tired of ’em.
I think we’ve got our New York City trip figured out. We’ll be going on a Friday at the end of November, just me and Toney. We’re planning to take a bus, so we can kick back and let someone else deal with the traffic and confusion.
I’m excited. We don’t get many opportunities to spend time alone anymore, and NYC is always an adventure. I can almost taste the John’s pizza as I type this…
And now we can start plotting our day, which is part of the fun.
The disc we need to stream Netflix movies via PlayStation 3 should arrive tomorrow. That’ll be cool. You know, as soon as we have a PS3. I need to have a little talk with Santa about that, aka Santy. Pass the beer nuts.
I have a friend who recently underwent a medical procedure involving some sort of mysterious “probe.” I’m unclear on the details. But they made him fast for 48 hours! Have you ever heard of such a thing? He had to quit eating at noon on Sunday, and they didn’t do the procedure until Tuesday afternoon.
Man, that’s a hell of a long time. I don’t know if I could do it, and I’m not joking. Ghandi, I ain’t. Holy crap-nodules!
Have you ever had to fast for such a long time? I don’t go to the doctor, so it’s not something I’ve ever experienced. What about you? At what point do the hallucinations start kicking in? Tell us about it in the comments.
And if you have any mysterious probe stories to tell, I’d like to hear (read) those as well. A guy at an old job used to tell a tale about being sent to a specialist, because he was having “ass trouble,” and the receptionist kept answering the phone, “Anal and Rectal?”
Heh. If you’ve got anything to tell us on that subject, have at it.
And I’ll be back on Friday. See ya then.
Have a great day, my friends.