“Search engine optimisation” is what it’s called. It really is the only way to generate a lot of traffic and steer attention towards your blog/website these days and, let’s face it, you have to pull out all the stops these days to be noticed on Internet Lane.
Seriously, ask yourself this: How many times have you written a blog, status or rant and posted it thinking, proudly, “that’s really good” or “this post is astounding; step back, readers. You’re about to be cut with some razor-sharp wit” only to then have your beautiful, wordy offspring beaten down by some irksome, dictionary ignorant ‘Facebook friend’ whose post of “OMG Jessie J is soooo good” has racked up at least 60 likes; all the while your well-thought post struggles like a fat, wheezing child to stagger past the 10 likes mark.
Ever experienced this? Or maybe you’re a part of the illiterate hoard of miscreants that pollute Facebook and Twitter with pointless, mind numbing posts? If you’re a member of the latter, I implore you to take an axe to one of your poison-spreading fingers and, whenever you feel the uncontrollable need to post something similar to the above, promptly chop one off. Eventually you’ll learn to stop clogging up our News Feeds with irrelevant waffle, whilst doing me and millions of others a massive favour.
You can imagine my dismay when I finally got online today, and was greeted with only four notifications, where other users were hitting the 60 and 70 mark on the ‘like’ scale. You see, I suffered a terrible grievance this week as my laptop exploded. It’s not comic exaggeration, it actually made several farting sounds and went ‘boom’. What’s worse is I woke up this morning with a bitch of a fever; sweating profusely. I’m on the cusp of hallucinating.
Being cut off from the internet is horrendous. I’m not ashamed to admit it. Smartphones and laptops now have the same significance as a crack pipe – the sole things that provide five minutes of relief. I can confidently report that being disconnected from social media sites is far, far worse than international terrorism and child abuse combined.
I’m like a blinded orphan; helplessly wondering the cold, lonely, filth-laden streets; trying desperately to find someone to interact with. Only my quest is ultimately pointless, as I never find anyone. I don’t know what to do with myself. I’ve tried the logical remedies; I’ve read, studied, even cleaned but I fear I’m going feral. Staggering in a fragmented haze of confusion around my flat, slapping the walls and howling like a rabid wolverine.
Internet withdrawal combined my feverish symptoms has left me paranoid and with Pete Doherty-gone-cold turkey coke-jitters. Before I know it I’ll be slavishly obeying every command a 12-foot tall transvestite ballet dancer barks at me: “Dance, beloved homosexual. Miss two steps and I take your kneecaps. Miss four and it’s your head. Dance, dance! Stop weeping and dance!”
The general public serious underplay the horror that is being cut off from the internet.
The general public serious underplay the horror that is being cut off from the internet.
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