Sympathy for the devil

I never wanted to admit this, but now I feel I must: I have a little program on this blog that I use to count how many people are viewing it (because, honestly, I would have stopped writing if no one but my roommates and myself were reading it). But it does a little more than just count the views. It tells me personal information.

Now, don’t get all alarmed and whatnot. There’s total anonymity. It doesn’t say, for example, that Kate Humphreys or Claire Anderson is checking up every 15 minutes (although I know they are anyway). It doesn’t give me names, but it does give me just about everything else: the time someone viewed, the general location of that person (city, state, and country), and the webpage from which they clicked the link (i.e, if they found a link to my blog on facebook, it would say http://www.facebook.com/home.php).

I usually glaze over these facts. I’m just interested to see how many people have viewed the blog since my last post, to see if people are reading; for example, I now know that if Emilio is in any remote way involved with a blog entry—if it is about him, if his name is mentioned, or if he writes it—viewership increases dramatically. He’s just plain good for numbers, I guess. And that’s mostly all I use the counter for. But sometimes, once in a blue moon, someone accesses my blog by random coincidence, and it usually sticks out when I’m glazing over the stats.

For example, someone found my blog via the website, “http://www.google.com/search?q=hollister application not working”

This is a simple google search of “hollister application not working,” which led to my Hollister: so not-racist we’re racist entry. Someone also chanced upon it by searching “is hollister racist” (to which I would reply: yes).

But recently I have been noticing quite a few google searches leading to my Capitalism’s a love story, Socialism’s a porno entry. One person from Tubize, Belgium found it on the 2nd result page of a “maxs porn” search. One person from Puteaux, France found it on the 76th result page of a “SHITING PORN” search. If you are in Stockholm, Sweden, and you google “shit love stire,” my blog is the first result out of 5,020 possible choices (woohoo!).

And today someone from Henderson, Tennessee discovered my Christmas in September in Flames entry after searching for “erection when child sitting on my lap.”

First: I would like to point out the fact that all of the perverts who stumbled upon my blog are either from Europe or Tennessee. Think it’s a coincidence? Think again. Try to mentally conjure some other people you know from Europe and Tennessee: Sacha Baron Cohen, Van Gogh, the Pope, Connor Mayfield. Yeah, fucking gross.

Second: Who is worse? The man who seeks out “SHITING PORN,” or the man who seeks out “erection when child sitting on my lap?”

Let me give you a hypothetical scenario: Tom notices that he is excessively hungry/thirsty, has blurred vision, is urinating frequently, and is tired all the time. It’s been going on for a few weeks now. He’s getting a little concerned. So Tom types these symptoms into google and finds that they’re symptoms of diabetes. This doesn’t necessarily mean Tom has diabetes, but he has the symptoms.

On the other hand, someone who has been diagnosed with diabetes doesn’t type these symptoms into google. This person doesn’t need to; he knows the symptoms, he knows he has it.

“Erection when child sitting on my lap” isn’t something a hardened pedophile (no pun intended) writes anywhere, except for an autobiography or on craig’s list. It isn’t a demonic roar of pedophilic exaltation, but instead it is a cry for help. A young, perhaps just barely-pubescent male teen in Henderson, Tennessee woke up one morning, perhaps a little hungover, perhaps feeling a little sore. He was up all night, thinking, confused. “Why is it that other people don’t get erections when children sit on their laps, but I do? Am I different? Am I alone? Am I a monster?” So he reaches out. He does a google search. He doesn’t immediately go looking for child porn (or for “SHITING PORN,” like some assholes in France). He looks for someone with a common experience. He looks for help.

Somewhere in Hendersen, Tennesse a confused young man is confronting the pedophile within himself. He can overcome his depravities, but he is alone and scared and confused, and he needs your support. And don’t forget to drink Pabst.

I hope I did not offend Kate or Claire. I have no idea how often you check my blog, either of you.