Do No Evil, Except Maybe in China

"Oldish," indeed -- no, seriously, I love you, Janet. Kissy, kissy, yes?



Let's hear it for Janet Pos-- Poscata-- Ahem.



Let's hear it for Janet, ladies and gentlemen! Whoo-hoo! God's gift to the Google HR department. And a remarkably clear-thinking woman, too, when it comes to hiring local talent, I might add. Kisses and hugs, yes, Janet? Kisses and hugs? Ha ha!



Whoo-hoo!



No, seriously, I think it's great that Google (at the behest of the lovely Janet here) would invite me to do this standup routine here in this California headquarters of theirs.



I've got to say though, I am powerful jealous of you guys as Google employees (you lucky saps! Jeez!)







What's this I hear about you eating gourmet meals and listening to live bands at lunchtime and having your cars washed while you're at work? Those aren't benefits, gang, they're bribes.







And then there's this so-called 20% rule, according to which 20% of your workday can be devoted to the project of your choice.







I don't grudge you your cloud-nine lifestyle, of course, but... how can I put this?







You might want to consider using at least some of that time... to start answering your bloody phone lines and start taking a few questions from the webmasters that you've been driving crazy for the last 10 years with your lofty indifference to their most fundamental concerns about their site's visibility and/or the lack thereof!







Okay, maybe that's a radical step -- after all, you'd first have to install some phone lines for that purpose, wouldn't you, gang?







But maybe you could at least devote half of that 20% free time of yours to authoritatively answering the questions posed in your so-called Google webmaster forums, where most webmaster queries are currently answered by unpaid Google apologists who are clearly just speculating on the whys and wherefores of your byzantine site-ranking standards.







When one asks a question in such a forum about why their site is not listed well, it's kind of like asking folks in an online religious forum why there is evil in the world -- their response often boils down to:



"Well, Google -- or is it God? -- works in mysterious ways."



It's not even BAD customer service, it's NO customer service at all.







Boy, what a tough audience! Well, I'm sorry, gang, but my viewpoints on these subjects have all been well-documented online for almost a decade now. It's not my fault that your Janet here (as lovely as she is) failed to "vet" me properly before booking me for this front-lawn gig here at the Googleplex on historic Amphitheatre Parkway.







Now, quiet down, you silly masters of the universe, you! The idea!







Only fancy, big uber-successful people like yourself, hassling a poor defenseless stand-up comedian like this.



Man: You're not funny, dude!



Now, now, don't talk with your mouth full, junior. And I want you to finish every drop of that Chardonnay. You're a growing boy, after all!







No, seriously, it must be great working for Google, or being a "Googler," as you guys apparently call it. I can see you now out in the workaday world, signing a car loan (assuming that you don't just buy the vehicle outright with your no-doubt abundant reserves of cash, of course, or better yet that Google doesn't buy it for you so that some more minimum-wage drudges can wash it for you, too) and the guy's like, "And who is your employer?"



And you look around the quiet waiting room where you see a half-dozen magazine readers within earshot as you oh-so-clearly enunciate your bisyllabic response, as loudly as you can without thereby appearing to be obviously bragging about the fact in question: "Ahem, uh, ahem, that would be Google."



And the sales guy's like, "Goo-goo-goo-goo... " and falls to the ground in a swoon of gullible idolatry, in accordance with the reigning technorati take on a company whose PC effusions ("do no evil, except maybe in China") have earned them a free pass for exercising essentially exclusive and unappealable control over the most fundamental aspect of online existence: namely, whose site gets seen by whom.







Mind you, I'd fall down in a swoon too, but rather in a fit of apoplexy over the nerve of a Googler such as yourself actually seeking a loan from MY business after blatantly refusing to so much as give me the time of day on behalf of yours!







Of course, people tell me, if Google were so bad, there would be more complaining about it online.



But think about that for a minute: The webmasters who are most interested in complaining about Google online are necessarily those webmasters whose sites are least visible online thanks to Google ranking practices -- so it's inherently difficult, if not impossible, under Google rule, for any anti-Google protest to get off the ground. You might call it the Google Protest Paradox:

The more a Website is in a position to launch a widely viewed anti-Google campaign, the less reason they will have for doing so.

I mean, if the microphone's always in your hand, you're not going to be complaining to management about a lack of airtime.

Janet: Okay, well, let's hear it for Brian Quass, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming, Brian --



Excuse me, madam, but I'm booked for the entire half-hour, so this microphone is mine for at least another 15 minutes, thank you very much!







Still, Google, you gotta love it.







You know, I DID almost get in touch with you guys once... back in 2005, I believe it was.



Yeah, my site as usual was being buried alive in your index under mounds of less-relevant sites (including blatantly spammy 'portal pages') and curious little bugger that I am, I wanted to speak to an actual human being to find out what was going on?







That's right, gang, that was silly of me, wasn't it? Ha ha! Imagine me, a mere webmaster (on whose collective sites you guys make your living, by the way) expecting to talk to an actual Google employee! Humph! What impudence!







But search as I might, I could find no phone number or e-mail address to which to send my webmaster-related query. Can you believe it?



So guess what I did.



I found an online job application for Google, and I filled it out with my webmaster-related question rather than with my resume -- and then I clicked on "submit"!



I'm thinking to myself, at least this question of mine now has a chance of being noticed, however briefly, by an actual real-live Googler. It won't be answered, of course, but at least I will succeed in getting one admittedly small symbolic protest through to the Great Oz behind the curtain.



But like I says, eat up, gang: I don't begrudge you your success. Down the hatch with the spare ribs and the filet mignon, and do see the underpaid menials at the drinks table for refills. I paid for this banquet myself, you know: me and my fellow banana truck refugees who dumped thousands of ill-advised dollars on your almost hilariously convoluted shell game called AdSense.







Mind you, it will be a cold day in Mountainview when I add aesthetic insult to financial injury by featuring your distracting (if not outright ugly) AdSense text ads on the uppermost portion of MY Web pages. Oh, no, my friends: Your sales department is not going to get me both coming AND going, thank you very much. I may have been born under a turnip but --



Janet: Brian Quass, Ladies and Gentlemen, give him a big hand. And now our next performer --



What's your name, anyway, madam? Let' see here ... It looks like one Ja-net Pasca- Pasca- Pascoway, or something like that. Let's hear it for Janet Pascoway, ladies and gentlemen! Hasn't she been a notorious busybody today? Let's hear it for her! Talk about officious!



Janet, whispering angrily: You've got to leave the stage now!







Oh, one last thing, gang: I don't want to worry your legal department, but I'm looking around here and I don't see anybody who appears to be a day over 30.







I mean, hello? Haven't your 20-something lawyers ever heard of the legal concept of ageism?







Look at these thugs -- er, I mean these security guys up here: They're mere teenagers -- except for Bluto here, who is probably 25 at most -- and it's only the biceps that give him away.



Speaking of which:



Oppression! Down with monopoly! Google unfair to webmasters!



Officers: Come on, move it!



My site has a right to be seen -- My site is quass.com, folks -- that's q-u-a-s --



Watch it, Bluto! That hurts! Are you happy now, Eric Schmidt? Your thugs are roughing me up! Oh, your mother must be SO proud of you, Eric -- not.







I hope there's at least one conscientious turncoat in the audience who is secretly filming these police-state tactics for subsequent posting on YouTube! Google unfair to -- All right, all right, I'm going, already! Easy on the threads!



Brian, shouting through half-opened passenger-seat window as car pulls off down Amphitheatre Parkway:



Hey, where are you taking me? You guys invited me here, remember? Just ask old lady Piscataway over there, or whatever her name is: Janet! Help!



Officer: Shut up, you.



Oh, so that's the way you want to play it, eh? Then this calls for vox.



Attica! Attica! Attica!



Officer: Oh, be quiet!

Stop!
Before you go: Have you...



1. Seen my Site Glossary
2. Seen my goofy picture page?
3. Seen my Pop-Ed Pieces?
4. Read my Big Ideas?
5. Read my Pet Peeves?
6. Listened to my Music?
7. Seen my brand-new words?
8. Bought my specially selected Amazon gifts?
9. Bought my personally designed gifts?
10. Bought my Carbon Cap?
11. Read my Outrageous Times newspaper?
12. Read my latest article entitled The Tragedy of King Queere?

Check out what the author is up to on the Social Web:
aNobii (his book reviews)
AimeStreet (his music)