BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

“Tits!…Why… There must be 57 tits up there.”

Back in the days of vinyl record albums containing recorded concerts of such funny folk as Richard Pryor, George Carlin, and Robin Williams, there was also Steve Martin. Mister Martin is arguably one of the funniest people of the late 70’s / early 80’s, and is still insanely hilarious to this day, albeit with a different bent to his humor. In case you haven’t done the math just yet, the line about “tits” was from one of his comedy routines – quite obviously the “odd number” being the major component of the punch line.

And, of course, this brings me around to what I am really here to talk about – that being, web marketing. You see, targeted web marketing has become the big thing over the past few years. These days data aggregators look at your searches, the personal info that you’ve put out there, and everything else they can glean from your time spent on the Internet, and  then proceed to customize a barrage of ads specifically for you.

However, sometimes their aim is a bit off – as is the case with this odd number of tits on my screen. Not that there is actually an odd number of breasts, mind you. Just that it is odd that there is any number of them on my screen whatsoever. You see, some of the really major culprits where targeted web ads are concerned happens to be the sidebars of social networking sites. In the case of “Myspank” they tend to get really obnoxious. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been approving friend requests, only to have an embedded shockwave-flash video of some twenty something cutie giggling and smiling at me as she ostensibly carries on a chatroom-esque conversation with yours truly. Problem is, I can’t see what she’s supposedly saying to me… However, my also unseen replies must be pretty damned witty, because she giggles a lot and makes bedroom eyes at me. Too bad I’m old enough to be her father. If I was a hormonal twenty-something single guy, I might be flattered. If I was a hormonal teenage guy, well hell, I’d fall for it in a heartbeat. But, the fact of the matter is none of the cuties they’ve paired with my profile to date can hold a candle to E K, so it’s a moot point. (Just for the record, she didn’t make me say that… This time, anyway.)

However, lately, even though I’m listed as married, the web marketers of the Myspank platform seem to be under the impression that I am single. Either that, or they know something about my marriage that I don’t. Obviously, this is where the “tits” come in.

As you can see, thus far they have actually managed to keep the breasts to an even number. However, for fear that I might become bored with the same pair of “tits” in my face repeatedly – see, I told you they knew nothing about marriage – they have made sure they have a bevy of busty young things arching their backs through various chest thrusting, cleavage revealing, shirt stretching poses. And, all of this appears to be for the express purpose of getting me to join a service that would let me hook up with “Local Singles”.

Interesting…

I mean, what with it being targeted marketing and all, they should already know I’m married. So, if they are trying to tease me into being unfaithful, why in the hell would I care if the other party is single? Just something to consider…know what I mean?

Of course, that’s not even the half of it. Just have a look. Based on the photos they keep pushing at me, it would seem more like they were advertising doubles, not singles. Pairs, not Aces. But, I guess that’s all just a matter of semantics, eh? But, even if we follow their logic, the fact of the matter is, I don’t feel like I’m looking at “singles”… I feel like I’m looking at the public teaser images for a porn site. Either that or an advertisement for brassieres.

And, on the note of targeting the marketing… Since all manner of aggregating bots pick up all sorts of keywords and such from my blogs, text entries, and what have you on the web, it would seem they might have run across the fact that I’m not really a “boob guy” at some point. I’m thinking they’d be better off trying to tempt me with a shapely set of gams…

But hey, maybe they know what I like better than I do. Maybe “tits” will grow on me… But, let’s hope not.

Now, don’t get me wrong. All of the ladies they have paraded across my screen are perfectly lovely. And, in the endowment department they definitely aren’t lacking by any stretch of the imagination. I’m fairly certain they have a good bit of the alphabet covered.  In fact, a couple of them look to me like they would benefit from a lifetime supply of Doan’s Pills. (For the younger crowd out there, Doan’s Pills are a pain reliever that was originally marketed for backaches. They are still around these days, but they don’t seem to be advertised anywhere near as much as they were in the past.)

But, you know, the thing that gets me the most about these particular ads isn’t even their frequency – which is high. And, when I say high I mean, as in at least every other refresh, and often times even more. Nor is it the fact that undoubtedly not a single one of the ladies pictured have anything at all to do with this supposed “singles meeting service”. Nope. Even as disturbing in a sense as all that is, it’s not the real kicker.

I mean, let’s face the facts, in 5 minutes on “Myspank” I end up seeing more “tits” than if I spent all afternoon with a copy of “Big Busted Babes,” “Melons On Parade,” or some other breast-centric porn magazine, so in reality it gets to be just a bit numbing to the senses.

So, nope, none of the above… The thing that stands out – pun not intended – is the fact that if I don’t click on the ad, which by the way, I never have, they get pushy about it. And, by pushy I don’t mean they show me a model in a push-up bra. They’ve already been doing that, in some cases anyway. Nope, you see, what they do is go out of their way to draw extra attention to the “tits” in question. How? By writing on them, of course. These poor women suddenly become living Goodyear blimps… (I say blimps, and not just blimp, because there are two, and well, you get the idea…)

Anyway, the marketing geniuses seem to believe that I will somehow get a vicarious thrill by placing the mouse pointer over the two dimensional “tits” and watching it turn into a hand. I suppose if I was a little perverted… Well… Wait… Actually I am a little perverted… In a good way though… But, that’s beside the point… If I was into the whole “boob thing” and I was also just a little off kilter in the braincase… Or a little desperate, I suppose… I guess maybe I could get all excited about moving that virtual hand around a bit before clicking on a strategic location or two. My guess is, that’s exactly what they are going for. Maybe I should do a poll of the 18 to 24 year old males with pages on “Myspank”. I bet they could tell me…

You know, if they are going to all this trouble to get my attention, I almost have to wonder what they are showing the women users when they log on?  And, do they tailor to sexual orientation? I mean, come on… I have lesbian friends who would probably like to see what I’m being targeted with… And, I have gay friends who I suspect would rather see what’s being dished out to the women, if it is in fact what I think it might be.

See, now, in my mind that would be targeted marketing.

Finally, on the note of what the ladies are being shown. Truth is, I have no idea. But, if I had to speculate, I figure they are probably seeing some buff guy with a Kielbasa stuffed into his pants… Or maybe a parsnip if the model happens to be a vegan. Of course, I suppose it could just be a pair of socks or some such. But, I really don’t think I have any desire to go looking for a picture in order to figure it out. I’ll let you do that yourself.

In any event, I guess something like that would explain why E K suddenly started spending so much time on “Myspank” as of late…

More to come…

Murv

Well, maybe not “carnage” so much, but our Red Bud tree took some damage from the freak March snowstorm that struck overnight here in Saint Louis. Only a few inches of the white stuff fell, but it was in a very, very short period of time. Plus, it was the heavy, wet snow that tends to weigh things down.

It was around 4:45 – 5:00 AM when I heard the sickening sound of cracking lumber. In my half sleep I actually felt a bit of panic because there used to be a large oak right outside our back door, and it had been dying for years. I finally had it taken out summer before last, but in the past it had dropped limbs and exacted a toll on both our house and that of our neighbor.  However, up until I had it removed I had harbored a fear that it would some day send one of the larger branches through our roof, and if that happened, our bedroom would be right in the damage path.  Still in a semi-dream state, this was my muddied brain’s first thought. I hooked an arm around E K as I rolled to the right, but before I could push her off the bed and out of harm’s way, I heard the heavy thud of the branch hitting the ground outside instead of coming through the roof on top of us. My brain woke just a bit more and in that instant I remembered that the oak was gone.

Good thing too…

E K was still asleep, but if I had pushed her off onto the floor, I’m betting she wouldn’t have been for long.

I crawled out of the bed and looked out the back window of our bedroom. Snow covered the landscape in an uneven, spotty blanket. And there, in the middle of the yard, was a major branch of our Red Bud tree. At that point, I pretty much sighed and then muttered, “This ain’t good.”

Since it had been in the 70’s and 80’s for the past couple of weeks, trees were budding and sprouts were sprouting. If you are familiar with the Red Bud, you know that in the spring it is covered with tiny reddish-magenta flowering buds for a week or two. Unfortunately, those miniscule flowers formed enough of a lattice to capture and hold the snow, making the weight on the branch too much to bear.

This particular Red Bud was one I had given E K as a birthday gift around 15 years ago. Actually, I gave her a stake with an orange flag on it and told her to go stick it in the yard wherever she wanted a tree. And, no, before you ask, I didn’t make her water it or anything … Two days after she stabbed it into the ground like a Van Helsing disciple offing a vampire – (and she looked pretty damn hot doing it too, as I recall) – the nursery arrived while we were at work and planted the tree she had been telling me she wanted.

At any rate, as promised in my “tweets” early this morning, below are a couple of pictures of the tree…

This would be the view from our bedroom window on the second floor. It was taken by E K early this morning while it was still extremely overcast, so I had to adjust it a bit in Photoshop. (click photo to enlarge.)

From the back of the yard, later in the day. As you can see, the snow disappeared within a matter of a scant few hours, and the sun was brightly shining. What isn’t obvious is that the ground is saturated (it rained all day before the snow arrived) and there is even standing water in the depressions throughout the lawn. (click photo to enlarge)

There you have it. Our backyard carnage. Looks like I am going to be pulling out the chainsaw in the next day or two before I have to jet off to Nebraska.

More to come…

Murv