One of the things that I love most about having a blog hosted on WordPress is that it provides me with all sorts of interesting stats that, otherwise, I wouldn’t have even thought to want. I can find out who’s linking to my blogs, whether people check out my blog after I comment on theirs, how many visitors have stopped by, which blogs they liked the most… in short, it allows me to stalk all of you more effectively.
The best part is, of course, the common search terms that people use to find your blog. One of the nice things I’m getting lately is people searching specifically for the name of the blog or for my name, which is an awesome sign that I now have more readers than just my grandmother. Other people are searching for entirely different things, though. For awhile there I was getting a lot of stuff like “white worm snake” and “florida worm lizard face” (Google was undoubtedly directing them to my Featured Creature Friday post on The Amazing Amphisbaenians). These days, it’s all about the jellyfish. Sure, those people who are searching for “jellyfish with purple spots” or “deep sea jellyfish” might be seeking some sort of genuine, scientific taxonomical information for their school report or whatever, but I’m glad that instead I was able to warn them about the inevitable jellyfish invasion. Put that in your report, kids. If you dare. (And whomever among you searched specifically for “jellyfish are dicks”? I salute you.)
Other people are looking for things I only wish I could provide. “Roller girl fairies in pagosa springs”? Roller girls I can give you, fairies might be harder. “Horse book that is purple”? You’ve got me there.
I have noticed a trend however in search results directing people to me when they’ve asked very specific questions. So I’d like to just as a sort of general public service do my best to answer a few of those burning search engine questions. First up:
My stupid friend got stung by a portuguese man of war what should i do?
Well Carl — can I call you Carl? — if you’re right there on the beach with your stupid friend after said friend has fallen victim to an attack by a Portuguese Man o’ War, what you need to do is get out your smartphone, get on Facebook, and defriend his ass immediately. I mean sure, granted, technically the Portuguese Man o’ War isn’t actually a jellyfish, it’s a siphonophore, which is actually almost creepier on account of how it’s not just one organism, it’s an entire colony of ocean-going evil. But the point is, in the war against the jellyfish your friend has fallen victim to an animal that isn’t even really a jellyfish. It’s like getting into a war with bears and then being killed by a koala. It’s not dignified. Your friend has served his purpose by being the stupider, easier prey for the Portuguese Man o’ War, but now it’s time to move on, maybe find another sacrificial friend just in case. When they make a film about your exploits in the Great Jellyfish War, you don’t want to end up being “Private #3” who dies in the opening sequence.
Do red roans buck more than other horses?
No. They are magnificent and majestic beasts, however, and if you’re considering buying a red roan horse and are worried about whether it will buck or not, just remind yourself that they are in fact the next best thing to owning a unicorn.
Can slugs only be slime mold?
My God man, that is a good question. I mean, I have absolutely no idea what you’re asking but you did ask it with a kind of bizarre confidence that frankly, I’ll bet the ladies find insanely attractive. But the answer to your question — whatever your question was supposed to be — is no, slugs cannot only be slime mold. That’s like saying that teenagers can only work at the McDonald’s drive-through or that dogs cannot fly. Stop trying to pigeonhole the slugs. Stop trying to kill their dreams. YOU MONSTER.
What does it mean if you see an echidna?
Well, first of all, it means you’re either Australian or you’re at the zoo. (Or you’re in New Zealand, I guess, which is actually the best option because doesn’t Frodo live there?) As far as I know if you see an echidna it doesn’t mean anything like four more weeks of winter or not to wear white after Labor Day (I guess it’d be Labour Day for you, mate). Apparently if you dream about an echidna though, it means you’re innocent like a child and your belly is exposed to Mother Earth or something like that. I don’t know, I looked it up on the Internet and it seems like what they’re trying to say is that you’re kind of immature and you should put more clothes on.
There were a few other questions, but they were frankly so incomprehensible that I couldn’t imagine what they were after… and one was seeking anatomical details on donkeys that, frankly, I feel are best left between the donkey and his lady-friend.