Is there a way to speed up my Hoveround power chair?

The title of this post was actually a search phrase that arrived at my blog yesterday, and the image it conjured made me laugh out loud.

In my mind, Granny is speeding down the Parkway doing 85 in her souped-up Hoveround, weaving in and out of traffic and cackling as she kicks up gravel onto the hoods of other drivers.

She's wearing driving gloves and a helmet, and a jacket with sponsors printed on it. TidyCat... Polident... Meow Mix... Red Heart Yarn... Werthers (for the grandkids)... All the key brands are there. Her scarf waves tauntingly behind her in the breeze like the arm of a beckoning siren.

She zooms around a bend and the local fuzz clocks her at 90. They flip on the red-and-blues and hit the wailing alarms in pursuit.

Ah, but Granny's mind is still sharp and her Hoveround is nimble. She slips between the wheels of a gas truck trailer and takes the right lane.

The cops try to cut over in time, but instead find the grill of the gas truck is now tasting their own car's bumper. The trucker honks. The cops screech left. Granny slides down the off-ramp, giving the law the finger and shouting, "Catch me next time, coppers!" She whisks off to further adventures... Like the one-day 50% off basket sale at Michaels.

Never get between Granny and a nice new basket. She'll tuck her driving gloves, helmet and scarf in this brand new Longaberger for safe-keeping... And there they will stay, until one fine morning the southern wind picks up, and the highway calls her name once more.

"Laaaaverrrrrrrnne.... Laaaaaverrrrrrrrne...."

___________

Wishing a great Memorial Day weekend to you, folks!

What's Your Google Search Style?

Google. The search engine that offers us quick and easy answers for life's great questions...

Like, "What Does Manfred Mann's Blinded By the Light really mean?" (Answer: Some things in life may never be understood.)

Or: "Who was that actor in that film with that other guy in it with the car and the hair?" (Answer: Gramma, you're going to need to give me more clues if you expect me to look this up on the internet for you.)

And that got me thinking about the different ways we search for information on the internet.

So here at Of Cabbages and Kings, our fleet of SEO experts have performed an in-depth analysis of the search terms used to reach this very web site, and have examined them for common stylistic techniques.

(Translation: I spent five minutes going through my stats and made broad, subjective generalizations for humor value).

Perhaps you've seen these techniques in your own web stats. Or perhaps you get your Google on with one of these styles yourself:


The Stream-of-Consciousness Author
Personal and immediate, the Stream of Consciousness Google surfer does not just search for keywords; he searches as if writing a first person dream sequence. (Or possibly he has been hypnotized twenty years ago during psychotherapy, and mistakes Google for his lost therapist. )

Laughing in the face of the concept of "keywords," searchers with this style use lengthy descriptions of situations and memories, using full sentences.

Like the one I saw in my Statcounter stats the other day:

"program I used to watch during the 90s and as far as I can remember it contained dinosaur like creatures but they all--"

I'm not sure what '"they all" were, because the character limit ran out. But the searcher was determined to communicate with Google like an old friend.

(By the way, Searcher, if you should happen to read this-- the program you're talking about is called, obscurely-enough, "Dinosaurs.")

(You're welcome.)

Now, the Stream-of-Consciousness Writer is often paired with another Google style...


"The Google Reads My Mind" Searcher
These folks know the power of technology and realize that the moment you sit down to a computer, The Mighty Google already knows who you are and what you are thinking. So you can type in:

"Red shirt I used to have in 1989"

And it'll come back with a photo of the stylish button-up you wore over your MC Hammer pants.

You might type in:

"that weird plant in my back yard"

And you expect it to come up with horticultural information on the strange vining pod you've been trying to cut back, but which keeps singing doo-wop showtunes at you and calling you "Seymour."


The Well-Meaning Speller
This Googler needs information but may find himself narrowly missing it, because he operates on intuition and phonics, and enjoys seeing asthma with two "z's". The Well-Meaning Speller is a free-spirit not bound by the confines of things like dictionaries or self-doubt. His search interests tend to fall largely, but not exclusively, in the "erotica" category. But he is too excited to stop and look up how to spell "naked."


The Jeopardy Contestant
This user types all searches in the form of a question. Points will, apparently, be taken off for not phrasing it in that way.

"Where do I go to get my license renewed?"
"Who is Justin Bieber and why is he taking over Twitter?"

These and other queries comprise this searcher's web world. After all, Alex Trebek-Google is terribly strict.


The Girls Girls Girls Patron
Whatever this searcher is looking for, he will add the word "nude" or "naked" to it. (If combined with the well-meaning speller, it's likely to be "necked", "nood" or "wit no close".)

It doesn't matter if it's Janet Reno, Holly Hobbie or a bag of potato chips, he'll want to see it buck and beautiful.


So tell me, folks-- How do you or your visitors Google?

Dr. Slaw: the Google Search Phrase Psychologist

Looking through the Google search terms that reach this blog is a little like rooting out the public's deeply buried desires and shivering, jagged fears. Ones that have otherwise shied from the light of day.

It's the place where the people of Webland feel safe and free to search for answers in their most starkly insecure moments...

Some of them not even involving poop, women licking things, or the Jonas Brothers.

Scanning these terms, our blog mascot, Old King Cole Slaw, indicated he felt he could help many of these poor, lost individuals.

Apparently, in between representing Of Cabbages and Kings, he has been slaving away to get his Psychology doctorate from the SFIHHSF. That is-- Steve Freud's International House of Head Shrinking and Flapjacks.

His last assignment involved creating his own inkblot charts using filo dough and jam. I have to say, they were delicious.

And since we are about nothing more than helping and guiding here and spreading vast amounts of misinformation -- I have asked our leafy-green brain expert to examine some of the searches that reached Cabbages this last week, and give his professional opinion. I'm terribly excited about it!

So without further ado-- I bring you Dr. Slaw and our real-life Google search visitor patients:


"What famous dead person would hang out with me? quiz"
Dr. Slaw: You are looking for love in all the wrong places. Clinging to fame and expecting it to rub off on you is not the answer. Celebrity is fleeting. If you are looking for friends, finding famous dead people to share the good times with you is highly unrealistic and possibly delusional.

I recommend digging up some long-dead relatives and trying to work things out with them first. There is less hired security to overcome, for one. And once you gain confidence in dealing with them, then you might feel secure enough to move on to department store mannequins, Furbies, and drunk Steelers fans enjoying the "I love you man" phase of their buzz.


"Murder by Slap Chop"
Dr. Slaw: Murder by Slap Chop is never the way to effectively work out your problems. First of all, you would have to cut the body into very, very tiny pieces in order to get it into the Slap Chop, making double the work for yourself.

Secondly, a consumer group test on KDKA showed that the Slap Chop plastic guard can actually break apart, leaving tiny plastic shards in the item you're chopping. So even if you could Slap Chop someone to death, this would give any forensics experts a clear clue to the weapon used. I would not recommend it. Stick to arsenic, if you must; it's a classic.


"Clichés wrecking people's vocabulary"
Dr. Slaw: Why are you fixated on this? First of all, I don't believe this is true. But secondly, remember, every time you point a finger at someone else, there are three fingers pointing back at you. There is no 'I' in 'team'. And it's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game. You have to love yourself before you can love others. Now, move along sonny, you bother me.


"Does tony the tiger live in shepherd"
Dr. Slaw: You, my friend, seem to have trouble separating fiction from reality. You are unable to see how your delusions and your wish-fullfillment are affecting your perceptions, and this is bound to bring you disappointment. Let me explain this to you: Shepherd exists only in your mind. There is no Shepherd. Once you can come to grips with that, you will be better able to enjoy life.


"Which parts of the cabbage do the clones come from?"
Dr. Slaw: Er... I believe these are not cabbages you are seeing; they're Brussels Sprouts.... Yeah, that's it. Brussels Sprouts. But -- (ahem)-- enough about me, let's talk about you. How much do you know about the cabbage clone invasion and where did you hear about—


Oh, I'm so sorry, Dr. Slaw, that's all the time we have. Thank you so much for your fine work today. I wish you the best of luck with your second career. I believe you've helped the Internet become a more mentally healthy place, one Google searcher at a time.

And really, this wouldn't be the first time a vegetable gave psychological advice. I mean, I've seen clips of Dr. Phil.

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Humorbloggers

To Google, With Love

My Dearest Google:

Something’s come between us, and I thought we should clear the air.

I post, and you ignore me. I add my feeds, and you turn away, as if I’d never typed.

Your friends, in Webmaster Tools, claim my pages are indexed... but no traffic do I see. I fear I know the score; they’re just telling me what you’ve told them to say. What you think I want to hear.

And then I learned today, from an insightful friend, that you think I’m not good enough for you.

You think the archives of content, which were a labor of love so many years ago, you think they were… SCRAPED. Stolen. Some illicit business on the side.

But I tell ya, I’m misunderstood is all, Google! I’m the same gal you always knew. The gal who wrote regularly. Who always had something original. And even did her own photos so as to avoid any copyright issues. I haven’t changed!

It was a bum rap, see? It was all in the past. An old site with my content on it that just had never come down. A mistake. That content was mine for the taking, Google. Mine! Mine, I tell you!

So I’m trying to make it up to you, Google. I’ve gotten rid of the archives that made you so steamed. And I’ve gotten my old hosts to finally pull the dead site.

It was an honest mistake, you see. I’m not one of the baddies—the kind writers like me fight every day in this great big world of the web. I’m one of the good guys. And I hope I can earn your love once more.

Try and remember how much we've shared, dear Google. Why, we've even got two blogs together! So maybe you can see fit to send just a little traffic my way?

You may not realize it, but you really do need me, just a little. In a land of spammers and scammers, you need all the real content generators... the writers.... the ones who truly care... that you can get. So, please say we can work this out?

I’ll be waiting right here for ya, sweetie.

XXXXOOOOO
Jenn


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Well, at least Google loves Humor-blogs...