Spam queue very much

Today, Comments in the Spam queue are up to 13, a new record. Most are complimentary, however a few continue to presume to give me advice, supposing that all I desire in life is to have more optimistic Gargle rankins. One criticises my inability to write interesting and exciting headings, citing a heading that has nothing whatever to do with my Posts! They even go so far as to suggest that “themindbogls” itself is a limp and uninspiring effort, undeserving of Gargle’s mighty favour. I am minded to tell this impudent baboon to fuck off. Fuck off, impudent baboon. Stay off the fermented fruit!

Then I notice two things about these deliberate provocations. From the address details kindly provided by Mr Arkansas, the WordPress Spam organiser, I observe that some of you appear to be sending your messages in disguise. They purport to come from web sites in proper countries like America, that are represented at the Olympics, not from your rutted feudal demesne somewhere in the Carpathians, that could manage only a bronze medal in the puddle-jumping. I take it you have the real owners’  permission? I guess this relates to a message I had recently, offering me a poxy server. I had wondered what a poxy server was, envisioning a tired Moldovan waitress in a North London trattoria. Now I know, it is the digital equivalent of a false moustache and glasses.

Secondly, you are not at all interested in what I have to say, you naughty little bloggers! You are a Viagra salesman or woman! Well, I don’t need your little blue pills to perk up my headings, I have given up sex purely in order to write this bogl, save money and to live more closely with Nature, in the shapes of my lovely cat Scat and dog, Hunzi. So, unless you supply the women to go with the pills, they can play Scrabble and make proper hot cocoa, you can fuck off as well, in this case literally! (My little joke, no offence!)

Good, keep ’em coming!

Uncle Bogler

Optimizing my organic search… in an aggressive, but controlled, way.

Hello, boglers!

Disappointed by the ‘paper-clip’ optimalism of this site, I’ve been on the Interweb all weekend, munching my way through thickets of recruitment copy. (Is there such a word as ‘jobivore’?) Writing, editing, bogling — anything, really. Needs must, and all that. It’s a difficult business nowadays. I won’t ask you to guess what the following short extract from an advertisement listed on Indeed under Editorial Jobs means, or what job it is describing. Mainly because I haven’t got a clue either. It is paying only £4k a year more than I remember earning as a copywriter in 1989. All that seems to have changed in 23 years is the law of gravity and the Universal Constant.

The ideal candidate will be a confident, analytical self-starter that is able to combine complex data and intuition for aggressive but controlled pay-per-click investments and take responsibility for growing performance. This position will also have a role in providing the team with reporting and insights specific to pre-defined SEO goals and metrics and assisting in the development of annual marketing plans.
Duties and Responsibilities:
*Create original content while including necessary keywords, titles and descriptions to improve the performance of our site.
*Review and analyze our website, identifying areas for improvement and change relative to SEO.
*Develop SEO content to include strategic key phrase placement within compelling copy that maximizes opportunities for indexing, ranking, click-through and conversion.
*Communicate findings and solutions in detailed written SEO strategy reports and in oral presentations to Marketing team….
*Executing keyword mapping strategy…..

And so it bogls on, and on, and on. What did we ever do, to deserve this?

(PS I have been gazing for an hour or two now at this appalling, ungrammatical mishmash of randomly distributed phrases and have at last realised that it is a cry for help! We are to get that the employer’s website is a pile of pants, they have fewer Comments on it than Uncle Bogler, and ‘Marketing team’ is a heap of groaning, hungover baboons who have been at the fermented fruit again. Your job is to move the Directors’ corpses around and arrange them defensively in the embrasures until the relief column arrives. Except there isn’t one. You are it…)