From Whence They Came

Like most bloggers, I’m linked to a site that records how many viewings my blog receives. I quickly grew tired of checking this when, in 30 hits, one would be my daughter and the other 29 were me checking to see if anyone had been there. So, I quit checking. I knew I was reading it.

While cruising the Net last night, I checked the counter and found someone in Russia had viewed my blog.

Could it be? Are there frustrated wannabe screenwriters in Mother Russia seeking the solace of similar frustrating experience?

Nope.

Another feature of the blog counter is to see the referring page, if any. My Russians arrived via hits from a google search on underground and keds. Apparently, if you want red Keds in Russia, you must go underground to get them.

Speaking of Russia, once upon a time, I wanted to add some Russian to a script and went googling for Russian translations and the first Russian-looking page I clicked on was for Russian Transvestites.

Since I am the last person on earth still on dial-up, I had a while to look at the slow-loading picture, and a little while longer to ponder what is wrong with this fellow? Oh my. Oops.

Which isn’t as bad as when my Dearest went looking for a present for our kiddo from a Nik cartoon show, but when he typed Angry Beavers in the Google Search Bar he got multiple pop-up windows that wouldn’t close and couldn’t be ignored. Who knew there were so many and they were that angry?

By the way, Angry Beavers was a cartoon about two beaver brothers, Norbert and Daggett who got into all kinds of trouble and spouted lines we still quote from time to time, even though the show is long gone.

Innocence of the law is no excuse, they say. Unsuspecting naivete is no protection, as I have learned.