Friday, March 27, 2009

Not So Much a Cry For Help - More of a Whimper Really

I have a hunk of code here that runs whenever someone reads DLOG that is supposed to tell me how name people are reading this thing. Well, that's what I thought anyway. It turns out that I have a hunk of code here that runs whenever someone arrives here, let's the page fully load, and has javascript enabled on their browser.

As such, I have no idea of how many people actually come to this site. I suppose it doesn't matter, since I'm not in it for profit or anything, but it would be nice to know. My fragile ego and all that - I'm sure you understand.

It is for this reason that I am asking each person who reads today's post to put in a comment. You don't have to be witty or relevant. Put in your favorite word. Put in a link to your own awesome website. Put in that picture you have on your cellphone of you going into leather shops and trying on clothing involving way too many straps.

On second though, let's keep the images out of this.

My goal is to get sort of a base that I can compare the analytical software on to find out how many hits per day it's not counting. I can then use this almost certainly wrong and somewhat arbitrary offset to convince myself that the work I'm doing here is reaching out to a wide audience, and that my deep and serious ruminations on such things as urinal placement, the decision not to change Luke Skywalker's last name and of course monkeys are really time well spent.

Come on people, you've got to help me believe.

5 comments:

davev said...

Favorite word: Jackass
Favorite color: Chartreuse
Sign: Libra
Career goal: Custodial Arts
Turn-on: Walks on the beach
Turn-off: Rude people
Measurements: 42-(censored)

Zarvox said...

I read and I enjoy!

Jasen said...

Where are the free pudding pops?

Anonymous said...

I find your blog entries insightful and witty. I feel that you just get me. Which is a little awkward, because I've never felt this way toward a man before...

Anonymous said...

A favorite poem (will that do?)
If you hold your nose to the grindstone rough,
And you hold it there long enough,
Soon you'll say there's no such thing,
As brooks that babble and birds that sing,
Three things will all your world compose,
Just you, the grindstone, and your darned ol' nose!!!

Wuv Ya!
M-I-L