Harvester of Marrow

Predator Press


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This “blog,” while still somewhat of a pipsqueak, reaps some benefits Entrecard. Aside from an occasional random-seeming traffic burp, it averages 300-500 hits a day -roughly half of which are directly EC-related.

And I am what Entrecard users classify as a “Harvester.” Harvesters are the villainous and much-hated dastardly bastards that skim through sites at the highest velocity possible. The rate I “drop” versus the rate I read is hideous: when an Entrecarder blogs “I get a lot of new traffic, but they only stay for a fraction of a minute -clearly not reading,” they are complaining about me.

But let’s examine that for a second.

You got people to your site. Correct?

-And nobody reads your stuff?

So your conclusion is the failure to recognize your “brilliance” is because nobody recognizes your brilliance, right?

The fact is getting people to your blog is 95% of the battle; I assert that complaining they don’t stick around is essentially howling to potential new readers “My blog sucks, and it's your fault!” I'm concerned over zombie uprisings and the worrying speculation my burnt toast might’ve once had Jesus’ image on it: don't take it personally, but WTF could I possibly care about your coin collecting and Peruvian copper speculations? Gee, I’m sorry I wandered onto your site. Is there a quiz?

You’re an asshole for bitching that -despite the best possible opportunity- you have failed to grab people’s attention.

-You're probably a zombie too. And stay the fuck away from my toast!!!

I have found some great sites via EC. I've gained some great readers, too. Beyond that, I've clicked on a site 100 times before seeing something that interested me, and then started reading it regularly.

Plus, let's face it: we “Harvesters” are the best EC ads to buy. I’m not particularly disciplined, but I have enough regulars to break 100 or so a day daily –and with high-speed internet, I can do it in 20 minutes or so. Thus, if you’re advertised on my site, you’ll get the bulk of those hits reciprocated.

EC whiners shouldn't feel bad. Human history is chocked full of unrecognized "brilliance."

They won’t be lonely.

Dear Entrecard,

Predator Press


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My first email was just a simple suggestion, and the Entrecard site says, quote: "We're very keen for any feedback you can give. Complaints about broken things, stuff you like, things you think are pretty or ugly, or even questions you'd like answered."

I can't bring my original query up because it wasn't in conventional email. But my suggestion was "Instead of subverting the ads we spent our credits on, why don't you just phase in "Paid Ads" after 120 seconds or so?"

Brilliant, right?

The response was this:

"Hi,

Thank you for your email. Please restate your question because I'm unsure what you're asking. We have the sponsor ads which Entrecard reserves 15% of the ad network inventory for sponsors.

Please let us know if you have any other questions.

Entrecard Support

This prompted my response:

"Seriously.

-You have NO IDEA what I'm talking about? How about forwarding this email to one of your supervisors?

Lemme simplify:

When you do a "PAID AD" (aka an ad where you subvert our credits for cash), how about making the "PAID AD" (the ad where you subvert our credits for cash) phase in after a minute or so? That way our "CREDITS" -the mystical crap you made up so we get something for spreading the word about your site- is still actually worth something?

-And PS: does EC even have 300 people a day I can "drop" on anymore????"

:)

The Predator Press IQ Test

Predator Press

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The worst economy in the world is associated with:


a) Calcutta

b) California

c) Entrecard


Who loves the most people?


a) Oprah

b) Jesus

c) David Letterman


2+2=


a) 3

b) 5

c) Playing Pictionary with our geeky, jackass neighbors who never bring food, and don’t know **** about ****.


“End of Second Quarter” is another term for:


a) Halftime

b) Twenty-five cents

c) Oh holy crap I hope there’s nobody in the bathroom



If a black hole the size of Manhattan appeared in Pennsylvania:


a) The ACLU would sue it for defamation

b) The price of #2 pennsyils would skyrocket

c) Jon Gosselin has hope for new realty TV series



Result:

IQ=957

See? ALL Predator Press readers are GENIUSES

(Except for guys named 'Travis.' I hate those jerks! Know why King Travis the Second never conquered Rome? 'Cus there never was no King Travis -First, Second or Third: it's a name we just made up, like, twenty years ago! If you're going to bother making up names, try something with cajones .... like 'Chainsaw' or something. Unless you're a guy. If you're a guy, go for 'Todd.')

Entretard

Predator Press

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<a href="http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&q=entrecard+sucks&aq=f&oq="><img border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168923798517701042" style="display:block;border:0px solid #000000;margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" alt="Courtesy of PredatorPress.com" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8k5Q7GGojpFESxfU1cvsvUOGvQD1xw9dvKb5x-MIOXGkWRoWgNV8RrEhhUU96ihS6i1q08deu82sduQGRGCVOGHjL3Nj2hy0119H8P0i97nwPSIDj6GVEt-o6hQ9yN3n6KBr_yg/s400/Entretard.jpg" img/></a>

"Dropping" Out

Predator Press

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Yesterday, after logging into Entrecard for the first time in a few days, I received the following mind-blowing message:


"Please move widget closer to the top of the page, as per the new 1 page rule, within 72 hours to avoid deletion from Entrecard - thanks!"

-Boy did you guys manage to hit the wrong guy on the wrong day and in the wrong mood.

I use an increasingly rarified two-column template, so people can start reading immediately while the page loads below: if you look -minus a placard and my Playlist- Entrecard is the fourth from the top link out already. By virtue of this policy, Entrecard is essentially demanding to be my first link.

Now lemme explain first how Predator Press advertising works: you bring me traffic, copious amounts of amusement, or cash. Period. An frankly, according to Google Analytics, Entrecard currently sits poised to sink below AllTop -and I would be jazzed to move Guy Kawasaki's creation into Entrecard's slot.

Know why?

-Cuz he did this crazy weird thing I call earning Entrecard's slot.

Furthermore, Entrecard demanding to become my Number One link -even before this "Paid Advertiser" debacle- is statistically laughable; Entrecard has never warranted Number One status in any way, shape or form ever. As a matter of fact -now that I look- I'm thinking the Number Four spot Entrecard currently holds is far too generous!

In response to Entrecard's threat, I was tempted to rectify this "ranking error" (aka "Deep Six" this *ahem* service as appropriate) -but alas, unawares of ever-changing, eh, "standards"- I have already approved numerous Entrecard ads! (See for some, changing up the rules midstream when you have an existing agreement might be considered slightly, well, the word "Immoral" comes to mind.)

(See also: "Dishonest")

(-These buzzwords are loosely affiliated with something called "Integrity." Somebody at Entrecard should look that definition up first.)

Hopefully Entrecard will pull it’s head out of it’s keyster before it’s too late ... but just in case I no longer accept ads. I will, however, honor any ads already in cue.

If Entrecard decides to delete my account beforehand, please –by all means- raise hell for the refund you are entitled to.

I'll help.

-It'll be fun.

Defenders of The Faith

Predator Press

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For deep, restorative healing of the soul I can’t say enough about church: if Terri ‘an the kids didn’t go every Sunday, I wouldn’t be able to sleep in or bask in the gloriously quiet solitude leisurely drinking coffee in my bathrobe and slippers.

-But being the sole guardian of an important and historic document such as Predator Press can be fraught with unseen peril.

And this Sunday started off like any other. I sat down at the computer, booted up, and navigated to my Blogger login screen.

“You don’t want to do that,” my computer warned.

“Why?” I ask.

Silence.

I continue punching in my URL.

“Seriously,” the machine drones. “I would reconsider this action.”

“What’s wrong?” I inquire. “Is MyBlogLog down?”

“No.”

“Entrecard took a crap?”

“No.”

I drum my fingers anxiously. What could possibly be so wrong, my computer doesn’t want to go to my blog?

After considerable hesitation, I reluctantly inquire “Did Diesel do another upgrade to Humor-Blogs?”

“Bingo.”

Uh-oh.

"Widgets too?"

"Couldn't tell you."

Ah, Christ.

“Well how bad could it be?” I defend. “As the creator of Humor-Blogs and Blog-Storm, Diesel has demonstrated radiant braniosity -comparable perhaps even to myself! And he’s done numerous upgrades before. Surely he has things well in hand at this point.”

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Hmmmm.

Taking a deep breath, I complete the URL.

-R-E-S-S-.-C-O-M

Then, backing as far from the monitor as I can reach, I stretch forward and tap the ‘Enter’ key.

Predator Press leapt from the screen, and within a fraction of a second swallowed my entire head.

I screamed.

-I'm almost sure of it.

Overbalanced, I reeled backwards while helplessly grasping for purchase -but sensing me struggle, Predator Press coiled powerfully around my neck as to weaken me and cloud my cat-like faculties.

Thinking quickly, I grabbed my hot cup of coffee and splashed it right in Predator Press’ face. But this only infuriated the beast: it threw me to the ground and started punching me in the kidneys.

Frantic and gasping for air, I spotted a pencil that had rolled under my desk; clutching it desperately, I plunged it deeply into the Predator Press RSS.

Predator Press shrieked in furious agony, and scampered up into the upper southeast corner of the room –well out of reach.

“Bull shit!” I cried. Grabbing a handy broom, I began swinging wildly at Predator Press. But Predator Press was too fast, and the blows whistled by harmlessly.

-Well “harmlessly” if you’re not my trophy shelf.

Or the lamp.

Or the china hutch in the living room.

-For what seemed like an eternity, Predator Press zigged to my zags.

But then it made a fatal mistake: I cornered it in the laundry room, and a wild grab found my fingers around it’s neck. I hurled it hard against the dryer, and this stunned it: soon I was strangling it on the floor as it floundered and twitched.

“But,” it choked, flopping slightly. “I … love … you!”

It was at that moment I realized that I was succumbing to my own personal rage.

Slowly, I released my grip around it’s neck.

-And Predator Press kicked me square in the nuts.

Twice.

Moments later, staggering to my feet, I could hear Predator Press working the deadbolt to the front door.

Oh, this ain’t over Mister Smarty-Blog I thought, throwing open the cover to the breaker box.

-Not by a long shot.

High Score

Predator Press

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"What are you doing?" asks Screechy, my fascinated six year old.

As the pale bule light flickers over my face, I don't even look at him. "I'm clicking on a few Entrecard sites in the faint hope I can score a few million readers tonight."

After a beat, I lean over and whisper "It might mean the difference between Harvard and Brown for you."

He grimaces at the monitor. "You get points by clicking on those little yellow boxes?"

"Yes son. Every one of those little yellow boxes is the blog of an infinitely important and interesting individual human being."

"It looks like a game. Can I play?"

I pause, thinking.

"Only if you play to win."

Dissonance and Dattonance

Predator Press

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I have an ongoing love/hate relationship with Entrecard.

Sure you wander into a few truly original gems ... Entrecard is how I found Neon Bubble, Daisy the Curly Cat and Crotchety Old Man Yells at Cars.

But ultimately for every gem there's like 652 tons of schlock to sift through, and when it all boils down I think I like the Humor-Blogs environment better. That's where talent like the Acorn King, Taunt Vortex Unfinished Rambler and Riding with Rickey reside and reign supreme. Call me a cynic, but when your blog's opening line is "I'm a happily married woman ..." I feel like screaming "Oh really?"

Slut!

First of all -assuming that's true- who cares? I don't want to be cruel here, but who wants to read about your lousy happiness and egregious contentedness? That's just bragging. And bragging is mind-numbingly boring.

Your pointed denial, brownie recipe and ugly kids do not interest me. I wanna read a blog about a guy that thinks he's a parking meter and fights crime when the red "Time Expired" flag comes up -but is deathly allergic to crawfish. Or maybe a lawyer that reunites the ghosts of roadkill cats with the drivers that killed them for some old-school payback.

Mulling over your pedestrain blasé bliss is not how I want to spend an afternoon: I suggest when your spouse comes home from the accounting firm or whatever, answer the door wearing nothing but Saran Wrap and a thin coat of Vaseline ... and then jack 'em up with a tire iron.

Aside from that, bank robberies are always a good bet. Too much planning? How about good ‘ol fashioned arson?

C’mon people! Use your imagination here!

Revolver

Predator Press

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Waaaaay way down at the very bottom of this page is a hit counter poised to roll over 100,000 hits.

And sure maybe half of those hits are me fiddlef--king incessantly with the HTML, fixing grammatical trauma, rectifying spelling, eh, "liberties," and otherwise fine-tuning my savage butchery of the English language.

-Let‘s just call it a solid 50,000.

I’ll take it.

With 1000 posts at this point, mathematically one or two of them almost have to be decent, right? (That's my overall strategy BTW ... over a long enough timeline, I'll get a Shakespeare in here somewhere.)

Still, by dividing 50,000 legitimate hits by 1,000 posts, this gives me about 50 hits per post.

Hmmm.

And since this the name of this blog is “Predator Press," let’s call a good 50% of those hits wayward web searches looking for either endangered species or child molesters.

From there, lop off an additional 30% for the non-reading Entrecard ‘skimmers.'

Finally, subtract about half of the lonely few remaining as never-to-return readers that promptly and accurately diagnosed this blog as a pedantic and retarded festering mess.

This pretty much leaves you.

Thanks!

:)

BLORE

Predator Press

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I'm looking for a word I can't find.

So's I call Merriam Webster.

"Merriam," I says. "I need a word for blogging whore."

"I don't think there is one LOBO," says Merriam.

"Well that's pretty shoddy work on your part," I says. "You people need to get with us here in the Twentieth Centurion. We got computers nowadays, and people are whoring their blogs on them."

"I suppose you're right," concedes Merriam. "Any ideas?"

"Well, I'm kinda partial to blore."

"Huh. I like it. It's a noun and a verb."

"Can it have a picture of me in the definition?"

"Do you think you qualify?"

"Do I ever! Humor Bloggers, Alltop, Entrecard ... you name it, I'm bloring on it."

"You're on Humor-Blogs too, right?"

"Oh man it should be illegal how much bloring I do on Humor-Blogs. 'Cept Diesel keeps busting it. He calls it 'upgrading'."

"Should I send him a copy of my book?"

"Nah. Between conquering the internet, writing, his job, building a house, kids, wife, et cetera he'd never read it. He's one of those, ah ... Hey, what's a word for 'somebody that's always doin stuff'?"

"Busy?"

"Yeah. He's like really, really busy. Which is probably why he made the site faster."

"I thought you said he busted it."

"I said upgraded. Jeez Merriam ... those two words don't mean anything like each other. I thought you wrote them big thick books with all the alphabetized words and definitions."

"You mean Dictionaries?"

"I dunno. I have a dresser with a broken leg and the corner it props up covers the title almost entirely. You're probably right. It ends with a 'Y', but I don't think there's a book that indexes words by their last letter yet. Hey ... isn't that discrimination against people with dyslexia?"

"Before we get too far off-track, is there anything else you can tell me about blores such as yourself?" asks Merriam. "I'm taking notes here so don't go too fast."

"Well," I says, thinking. "We don't take criticism very well."

"Really."

"Yeah. Like about my last post, this dude damonkappas said 'That's too much to read. Your post wanders all over the highway like a 76 ford pickup with a broken axle. Focus man, focus!'"

"How did that make you feel?"

"I don't know really. I found a quarter after that. And then while watching television I got hungry so I drove to Wal-Mart and bought some pants."

"You got hungry so you bought pants at Wal-Mart?"

"Well I needed something with pockets to put the quarter in."

"How is your election coming along?"

"Eh, I dunno." I shrug. "I don't really follow politics. I figure John Nobody will let me know one way or another."

"What will you do if you two win?"

"You mean besides have the Secret Service wax damonkappas?"

"Yes."

"And rubbing it good and merciless in Don Lewis' face until the end of time?"

"Yes."

"Never thought about it."

"Really?"

"Well the President isn't the guy that puts up a stop sign so's playing kids don't get hit by cars. Or get your street's potholes fixed. Or opens an art museum in your neighborhood. All the real important stuff in people's day-to-day lives is handled at a far more local level; I'll bet you a dollar 4/5ths of the people voting on Election Day couldn't name three people on their own City Council."

"Maybe you should change all that," says Merriam.

"You mean become, like, The Pothole Party?"

"Eh ... "

"Waaay too much work. Plus pot is illegal ... all I would get is a very smooth drive to the state pen and maybe a case of "the munchies." No, at this level people don't want anything effectual at all. Effects tend to have consequences. John and I have far too much at stake to risk having any consequences whatsoever."

"Why bother then?" asks Merriam.

"Because the risk of Don Lewis winning is far too horrifying. Rather than talking to the people in meaningless and endless reassuring circles, Don Lewis would doubtlessly see some important issue and impudently do something about it. Then, BOOM! Consequences. John Nobody and I are twice as ineffectual as Don Lewis. There will be no consequences while we are in Office."

"I see."

"So does my new word go in the dictionary?"

"Based on your logic, wouldn't having an effect on the American lexicon jeopardize your election?"

"Damn, you're right!" I pause for a second. "What if we said it was Don Lewis' idea?"

Entre's Inferno

Predator Press

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Entrecard went down over the weekend.

So rather than skimming hundreds of sites, many of us were forced to work around the house, landscape, and perform automotive maintenance or whatever.

But I forgive Entrecard.

In fact, I'm flatly impressed by their calm and polite manner:

“We’ve had an electrical fire. Things should be back up in a few hours. We’re terribly sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused.”

Wow.

That's pretty classy if you ask me … ‘cause if Predator Press has an electrical fire, ”FIREFIREHOTHOTHOTEEEEYAAAAHHHHH!!!” would be all you get -and that's if I can find the presence of mind to blog instead of running around in panicky circles while flailing my arms and screaming.

So before your eyes glaze over with welling tears at the thought of losing this historic document, we should go over the Official Predator Press Fire Safety Plan.

It is as follows:

1) Rescue LOBO,
2) rescue LOBO’s expensive stuff,
3) rescue all other tangential LOBO-related personnel such as family, pets, friends and/or coworkers, and then
4) rescue LOBO’s inexpensive stuff.

I’m not really a hard-ass about rule #4. I don’t expect you to go into an inferno for, say, my stapler: your personal safety is of utmost importance to me. Use your judgment.

But lots of little things like staplers add up, and it just might make the difference as to whether you get an iPod or a fruitcake at Christmas.

I'm just sayin.

This plan was Cultivated by Design.

Entrecard Introduces New "Dammit, Can't I Afford ANYONE!?" Widget

Predator Press

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A Predatory Discourse on Entrecard

Predator Press

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As a 4-year blogger, I've spent the last several months aggressively seeking new ways to shamelessly whore my stuff.

I don't know about the rest of you, but the bottom line is that I'm a writer, and my goal is to get paid writing somewhere; therefore, I have to balance whoring with the generation of copious amounts of this schlock on a consistent basis.

The end result is a lot of a product of bare minimum quality, which I'm proud to say I excel at.

Occasionally, this has made me a little zealous to get on board with "the next big thing". As you may already know, I'm not much of a "commenter", and generally this is key in any blogger's success. I try. I swear I do ... but I just don't have it in me. Before today, if you saw any one of my various little avatars pop up on your site, you generally could rest assured that I like it.

Well, "Entrecard" has totally ruined all that.

Recently, the "blogosphere" got injected with this little tool and it has shifted my M.O. entirely. Now, instead of surfing news stories in search of story ideas, I'm hopping a startling number of interlinked and cross-promoting sites in order to get Enrecard credits -I call it 'skimming' for lack of a better term. These credits are useable for advertising on other sites, which presumably skim through my site with the exact same level of utter disinterest.

Don't get me wrong: via Entrecard, I did discover some real gems like spacedust and neOnbubble -brilliant sites that I am eager to share with you. But I was accepting whatever the hell ad happened to cross my path, and a lot of that stuff was just plain 'ole commercial.

I was starting to feel kinda dirty.

The fact that I evidently had "standards" shocked no one more than myself.

So a few nights ago, I couldn't live with it anymore; I ended up doing what likely constitutes the Entrecard Cardinal Sin, and gutted my ad schedule. This made me feel even worse, because now I wasn't following through with commitments I've made.

But how dare those other blogs exploit my Entrecard naivety, wreck up my credibility, and leave and make me feeling this way?

... I blame them entirely.

So to avoid the risk of feeling rejected -or more importantly, pissing me off- I've come up with some statistics to aid you should you seek becoming advertised on Predator Press:

Sites containing the words "Marketing" or "Make Money Online": 0%
Has suicide really fallen that far out of fashion?

Sites that promote anonymous link exchanging: 0%
The rest of humanity pays for prostitution. Why shouldn't you?

Blogs written by guys named Travis: 0%
Know why King Travis the Second never conquered Rome? 'Cus there never was no King Travis the First, Second or Third. It's a bullshit name we just made up like twenty years ago. If you're going to bother making up names, try something with balls like 'Chainsaw'.

... Unless it's a boy. Then I like 'Todd'.

Sites that automatically start playing music: 0%
You want me dancin or reading? I think another site already has this covered. It's called iTunes.

But thanks ... every cubicle in earshot really needed a sudden blaring dose of your '80s crap.

Sites with popups: 0%
I will kill you all.

Slowly.

Sites about pets and cutesy pics with captions: 50%
Actually this statistic surprised me too ... while I honestly think icanhascheezburger has pretty much got the market cornered, who can get enough of animals?

They're delicious!

Sites that make me laugh, are clever, insightful, amusing, thought provoking, and/or have potential: 75%
Just "good enough" isn't always good enough. We love you, but Predator Press is a fickle mistress.

In the spirit of this new tradition, I promise that the only ads you'll see here will be hand-picked kickass sites worth clicking on.

And to commemorate this day, I'm proud to have a kickass blog that I read on a consistent basis in the slot. I've been onboard with .45 Caliber Headspace since it's inception: it's darkly funny, well-written and frankly one of the best sites out there. From day one I knew it was going to be a monster success, and I was not wrong.

Thanks for the laughs .45.

We're glad you're here.