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.

---------------------------------------
Humorbloggers

In Search Of: Answering Your Keyword Search Questions

Every now and then, I enjoy looking through the list of Google search terms that brought people to Cabbages.

It appeals to my sense of curiosity... My deep inner marketer... And, well, because I'm a big ol' loser with nothin' better to do.

But I'm also a big ol' helper. And I'd like to help my readers find the information they seek on this amazing thing we call the Web. I'm a giver that way. (snicker)

So today, I give you answers to some of Cabbages' most intriguing Google referrers.


"Gooten gleepen gloppen" ?
Yes, Sir or Madam, the bathroom in Ikea IS, in fact, located on the first floor level near the cinnamon bun store. I do hope you make it in time.

Well, okay, I'm kidding you. This person was actually looking for the faux German from the beginning of Def Leppard's "Hysteria." This also comes to me in variations of "Gooben gleepen gloppen globen," "Gruben greeben gloppen globen" and "Horace." Though those last folks clearly aren't really even trying when they listen to the song.


"What is a scround?"
I know in one of my posts, I had many a Cabbages reader befuddled by my mysterious use of the word "scround." And I apologize for that. So, to clear that up, a scround is the not-quite-round-not-quite-square packaging that ice cream now tends to come in.

And while it seems new to our lexicon, it's a little-known fact that the word "scround" has actually been around for decades. It made its debut as a part of 60s music culture, when it was first heard in the Beach Boys song, "I Get a Scround," a tune dedicated to Brian Wilson's deep love of ice cream as a cure for the munchies.


"What does ouija stand for?"
Why, truth, justice, and the Parker Brothers way, of course!

In my post about the time a friend and I tried to channel the Great Beyond, we didn't actually go into stuff like Ouija etymology. But the word is apparently a Parker Brothers trademark.

According to Wikipedia, one theory is the word was derived from the French word "oui," meaning "yes"... And the German word "ja" meaning... er... also "yes."

Because when you drag a spirit from the Other Side or, y'know, you're just sitting around talking to yourself... you want it to be polite and agreeable.

"Ouija, will I get that payraise?"

"Oh, oui... ja!"

The Ouija board's spirit guide may be Marlene Dietrich. But I can't be certain about that.


"Paintings of william shatner" ?
Er, are you looking for paintings featuring Mr. Shatner-- to flesh out your vast William Shatner Tribute Gallery (AKA, your mom's basement)? Or are you looking for paintings done by Mr. Shatner, in which case I'd kinda be keen to see those myself?

I can just imagine his work now.... A canvas done entirely in pink paint entitled, "Tribble."

I'm afraid, dear search engine visitor, I cannot give you Shatner Art here at Of Cabbages and Kings, but I can tell you about the time William Shatner almost wrecked my car. I hope that, at least, makes it worth your click.


"Why we r using form no 29 in post office" ?
Because Forms 1-28 are in the back room with that person who is terrified to come out to wait on the line that is now wrapping around the building three times and makes queues in Disney World look short and manageable?

Well, that's been my recent post office experience, anyway.

Truthfully, I don't really know y u r uzng the 4rm u r. May-b u shd ask ur boss?


"Mayometer" ?
This is the carefully-calibrated, microscopic, sensory-perceptive device, located in the tastebuds, that allows those of us with acute mayophobia to know that mayonnaise has been surreptitiously added to our foodstuffs. You either have a mayometer, or you do not.

If you've come to this site, a person suffering from mayonnaise fear and the occasional familial mayo-betrayal, I consider you my newest bestest friend and you may very well enjoy this post. If you are a mother looking to slip mayo into your family's foods-- shame on you! Shame, shame.


"Tentacle egg impregnation story" ?
Okay, I don't really have any answers for this, but maybe you-- my readers-- do. What's a "tentacle egg"? Or are the eggs impregnated in the tentacle? So many questions. No answers. I just hope this wasn't a personal health question. Because I don't think WebMD will have what they're looking for, either.


"Why there are lots of safety pins in 1980's?"
Excellent question! This is because we all felt the need to buy very expensive jeans, with designer names on them, and then slash the heck out of them with razor blades.

Then, our parents would ground us because they had paid for said very expensive designer jeans, and they wouldn't let us out of our rooms until we thought about what we'd done, and fixed them.

Of course, most of us also failed home ec.

So the safety pins were a quick fix allowing us to at least get to see the light of day sometime during our high school careers.


"Anonymous of the word captain" ?
I just have no idea on this one. "Anonymous of the Word" would be a good band name. But it doesn't seem to be. If we're looking for the anonymous posts of some dude named the "Word Captain," then, um, we're probably not going to find them due to his... er... anonymity.


So, folks-- ideas? More questions? A rousing chorus of "I Get a Scround"? Let me know.

-----------------------------------------------------------
Iffin' you feel like it, vote for this post over at Humor-blogs
Iffin' you don't- mosey on over to Humorbloggers for some funny.

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


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