The Googling of America: Soliciting Writer Whores to Turn Cheap Tricks

Oscar Wilde thought "writing is like sex, " spouting off that "first you do it for love, then for a few close friends, and finally for money." George Bernard Shaw propositioned that "lack of money is the root of all evil." Robert Frost (in "The Road Not Taken") reflected that "two roads" lay before him, diverging in a yellow wood, with the choice of direction being his and consequences of that choice making "all the difference."

Few will ever ascend to the stature of a Wilde, Shaw, or Frost. Yet, we write - most of us have been writing since our elementary years. Among us are even a few writers.

What follows is metaphorical satire, although some will feel it a lampoon. Many should smile - yet think. Some may take offense - they, too, should think. Out of a comedy of errors can come a tragedy of consequences. Ultimately, there is truth here - or, at minimum, truthiness.

*****

"Find a pretty idea. Flash your bling. Say that you'll let her touch, if only she'll do you. Whisper how much you'd love to Google her - over and over. Pander to her need for acceptance and recognition, telling her she's hot, telling her how good you know she could be. Then lie back as she climbs into bed with you, losing her virtue. Enjoy her faux gratuitous gyrations and wait until she screams Yahoo!"

"Congrats...you've added another writer whore to your stable. Kick back, relax, go surf the 'net, looking for your next bitchin' conquest. And her? Forget her. Soon enough, she'll be on a nowhere street of broken algorithms and ill-coded gibberish, soliciting johns searching for their turn to Google a pretty idea."

"And you? You're sweet-talking that next, new pretty idea."

"It all makes perfect AdSense, doesn't it?"

"Pimp, whore, cheap tricks, pander: not the usual and customary keywords associated with a community of writers, hmmm? Well, things change don't they? This is, after all, a global economy wherein quality, thoughtful, insightful, useful content - written in real English - is irrelevant. Just dress up today's keywords and keyword phrases in a provocative, promiscuous package and put her on Main Street for the johns to Google."

"Empty content, grating syntax, corrupt context - no matter: the johns will Google whatever you parade in front of them. You have no commitment or responsibility to them - or yourself, right? (Certainly, not to her.)"

"Still caught in a moral dilemma? Got that place in your heart and soul that's tender to your use-to-be writing ethics? Just buy a six pack of AdWords, speed dial your favorite, main pretty idea, tumble around in the re-write sheets with her, and you'll briefly feel your greatness rise again."

"What's integrity, anyway? Yours has an easy price to meet. Love may be about chemistry and sex about physics, but making money is the master science."

"Still not convinced? Want to debate this on other merits? Go ahead. Ring up Associated Content corporate and ask to speak to the head Global Investor toady - he's a Master Debater and has lots of hands-on experience.

He might even turn you on to a cheap trick or two - at a titillating low price, of course. But hey, that's o.k. You understand how the trade plays and you've already paid the ultimate price, haven't you?"

*****

The cop tossed the file he'd been holding onto the table. A sheaf of papers slid out and splayed across the surface..

He took another gulp of cold coffee, crushed the Styrofoam cup into a spray of sweaty brown-gray fragments, and snuffed his cigar out on his hairy forearm. He stood up from the table and stormed out of the interrogation room.

Air in the room swirled perceptibly from the rush. A single, glaring light bulb, hanging from a flat black, girdered ceiling, swung back and forth through the pale blue, choking haze.

Shaking, John felt dizzy and thought he was going to puke.

What did that pinhead know? He'd be lucky to stick one good, hard verb into a whole paragraph of drivel - if he could even get his writing up to a paragraph's length.

John lay his head down on the table, breathing heavily. Aarrr!! He'd put his head into the slippery, sticky mess of papers, coffee, Styrofoam, and burnt hair covering the table. He jerked up, frantically pawing at disgusting slag on his face.

One of the papers stuck to his hand. He shook it hard, but the paper stayed stuck. Looking down in dulled amazement, the 36-point Arial Black title flashed into John's eyes: "Bottom Slurping for Google Juice." He was sucked in.

From a lead of

"Is a service affiliated with Google ad man Tim Armstrong
helping to fuel Web bottom feeding?"

to

"Some of the articles I checked out on the Associated Content
site could be considered valuable content, but the fact that it's
written with search optimization in mind can really degrade
the caliber of the writing."

to a close of

"The day my ClickZ editors tell me to make sure my articles
are loaded with keyword phrases is the day the writing suffers,
and with it our readers and the state of the Web. Truly valuable
content is valuable because of its substance, and that's content
that attracts readers and advertisers naturally."

the words poured through John's laissez-faire resolve in a hot torrent.

He picked up another FAX: "Associated Content Struggles With Image; New CEO On Board" and got smacked with:

"The company isn't going to realize its potential unless it's
producing really good content. We're not going to create a
successful company with just mediocre content."

There were more:

"Is Associated Content a next-gen media site or an exploiter of search engines and AdSense? At least Google and Yahoo are on 'board'"

"Canaan Partners Expands its Digital Media Portfolio and Leads $10M Investment in Associated Content"

John slumped back in the cold, hard chair of the interrogation room. He'd had enough.

John knew about Google and Yahoo! - or at least had thought he did. Maybe not. And who were these others? ClickZ, CNET, paidContent, Search Engine Land? Canaan Partners? Who were these people?

John didn't know if he'd been enlightened or disillusioned. Maybe a little of both, but mostly neither. And what was with The People's Police? He didn't understand why he'd been pulled in for questioning, that was for sure.

He was a writer. That hadn't changed. And he did know he had to get back to his condo to finish that piece he was writing. He looked at his hands.

"As long as I have these, and the imagination and sense to make them work, I will write," John whispered to himself.

The door opened.

"You're free to go."

John didn't look up. The cop sounded softer, now - almost hushed. Probably a trick.

A quiet rustle approached him. The inviting scent of Burberry washed over him. Reflexively, a smile brightened his face and John looked up into the clearest blue eyes he had ever longed to see.

"You the good cop?"

"I could be."

John had found his last pretty idea - and he hadn't even been searching for her.

...and they were away, into the night...

*****

With deference to Wilde, writing is not like sex. To assume such a position, cheapens writing - and sex. Writers write to make a difference and "somewhere ages and ages hence," writers' writing will.

Beyond Wilde, Shaw, Frost, and their mortal cadre, Jesus cautioned the road is wide, but the gate is narrow. That is the only true reason we write: to make it to and through the gate, being in league with a few and a guide for no small few along the way.

__________

[Writer's Note: Associated Content is referenced here because she is our own, "The People's Media Company." We are The People. We are familiar with, comfortable with, and have a vested interest in contributing to and experiencing Associated Content's impact, growth, and successes. Moreover, we recognize Associated Content's potential for excellence and are committed to being meaningful voices in the articulation of that excellence. We love Associated Content as we love ourselves....]

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