Because It Amuses Me: the albertnet Subhead

Introduction

My wife is starting a business, and recently read up on how to build a good website. This has given her some ideas for albertnet, one of which is to have some kind of subheading, beneath the masthead, that conveys the nature of this blog. I guess the subhead is meant to be kind of a slogan, or a mini-mission-statement. It should ideally answer the question of why the business exists: i.e., what is the point?

Having been thus encouraged to apply this idea to my blog, I’ve had to do some head-scratching. One result of this is the subhead you see above. At least, you should see it above, if I updated the template properly. In any case, you can see it below:

My thought process, including further examination of the question “why albertnet,” follows below. If you’ve ever wondered what the hell this blog is even about, this is your chance to (maybe kind of) find out.

Not a business

First and foremost, albertnet is not a business. Since I pay for web server storage and for my domain names, but receive zero revenue because I refuse to turn on AdSense advertising, this blog is actually a cost center for me. This means the answer to “why?” can’t simply be “because money.” Meanwhile, I can’t call this is a non-profit, pro bono type of business, because I have no way to tell if it’s actually benefitting anybody. To date, this blog has had about 890,000 page views, which pales in comparison to a great many blogs (though in absolute terms it strikes me as a somewhat large number). I’ve posted over 700 times over a period of about 14½ years, so 890,000 views is not a lot of bang for the buck. I also don’t know whether a page view represents somebody reading an entire post or just glancing at it and deciding it’s not the Google result he was looking for, and closing the page. So to assume I’m serving some market and satisfying readers would be pure guesswork.

Does that mean I shouldn’t bother trying to promote my blog? Not necessarily; after all, what writer doesn’t want to attract an audience? But that doesn’t mean I have the time or patience to work much at it. After all, technical tricks like search engine optimization and content marketing are not nearly as interesting to me as, say, writing. So what if I double my page views? From the financial perspective, two times zero is still zero. From the “actual reader” perspective, leading people here does not make them read.

What do readers want?

For a blogger—that is, the kind of writer who can’t simply look at book sales to see if he or she is successful—page view counts might seem very valuable. Data mining is certainly a popular practice in corporate America; I recall a big boss once advising me, “Metrics are important in this space.” (Man, I think I actually bruised my eye sockets at that moment, so forcefully did my eyes roll.) Another time my director was counseling my boss and me on a tough decision we had to make: “Go with your gut,” he said, and then—seeming to suddenly remember the business zeitgeist of the time— he quickly added, “but make sure it’s data-driven.” Um … okay.

Okay, fine, I’m poking fun at puffed-up pronouncements here, not the data behind them; what does page view data actually have to say? Could I use blog post popularity data like a mini-focus-group? Well, consider that my most popular post of all time, as of today, is “Spelling Focus: Is It ‘Kindergartner’ or ‘Kindergartener’?” which has racked up over 11,000 views. Should I conclude that this the kind of post albertnet readers love, and do more posts like it?

Well, not so fast. I think when companies make data-driven determinations like this, they’re using the feedback to try to react quickly to the market. But if this “Kindegart(e)ner” post were a TV show, it’d have been canceled immediately, because it was initially stillborn and generated practically zero page views for the first two years it was up:

This isn’t an isolated phenomenon: my most popular post of the past month (though it’s only so far climbed to fifteenth overall), “Selecting Bicycle Wheels – Part I,” was largely dormant for over nine years before suddenly gaining traction about six months ago. It’s been going strong ever since, getting almost 1,700 page views (about 60% of its total over time) in the last three months alone:

I see this again and again with albertnet posts: “Everest Challenge ‘Pep Talk’” took six and a half years to go anywhere and is now my tenth most popular ever; “The Problem With Soccer,” my eighth most popular, malingered for almost a decade before building any momentum. So why should I put any stock in page view stats, knowing that any of my 700+ posts could, theoretically, suddenly tip? All I can really glean from the data is that albertnet posts are not timely. But then, I knew that.

Now, it’s tempting to think I could set the numbers and timelines aside for a moment and simply look at the topics of my most popular posts and try to figure out what they have in common. Here are my top five of all time (as of today):

Hmmm. No single theme is jumping out at me. The top post is about spelling. Second most popular is a news story about a cyclist setting a world record. In third place is an essay about whether highbrow entertainment is actually superior to lowbrow. Fourth goes to a harrowing personal history about having my balls shaved and my vas deferens snipped. And the fifth most popular is a poem about bicycle gearing. In terms of topic, these posts almost couldn’t be more different.

Could it be some other characteristic they share, that makes them popular? Well, I guess they’re all arguably funny—but then, I try to find humor in everything I write about, and these posts aren’t necessarily standouts in that regard. The one about the cycling world record, for example, has a few decent gags but isn’t nearly as funny as, say, “From Farting Liberally to Liberal Arts: the Flatulence Files,” which has performed dismally, with under 600 posts total over nine years.

Should I care what readers want?

When I look over those top five albertnet posts, I can remember how each of them came about—and in every case, worrying about whether the topic would attract readers never crossed my mind:

• The corn cob post was a result of a cycling teammate of mine ribbing me about the randomness of my blog topics. As I wrote in the post’s introduction, he said, “You could write an essay about each cog, or better yet, you could write a sonnet, an ode to the corn cob!”
• The vasectomy post was simply a great yarn that demanded to be told; from the shaving of my scrotum, to the mysterious ConMed Hyfrecator machine, to the mid-procedure power outage, to the doctor declaring ominously, “I’ve got your vas,” the confluence of events was practically literary entrapment
• The “Highbrow vs. Lowbrow” post came about because I’d wasted a bunch of money at a museum and wanted something to show for it, if only an essay
• The cycling world record post almost didn’t happen … it seemed like an interesting opportunity to actually report on some breaking news, but I was feeling lazy, and prevaricated before finally deciding, what the hell, I’d go ride South Park Drive a bunch of times with a wannabe world record holder
• The “Kindergart(e)ner”post was simply to help out a curious friend, who puzzled over the spelling but wasn’t as keen as I to dive down rabbit holes after arcane knowledge

The common thread you can discern about those posts is that the likelihood of an enthusiastic audience wasn’t the point. And why should it be? Writing for me is simply a hobby, and how many hobbies are measured by some worldly notion of success? Does the fly fisherman care how many fish he catches (particularly if he always releases them, as many do)? Does the bird watcher mainly do it for the bragging rights? Does the Netflix binger hope his encyclopedic knowledge of “The Crown” will bring him glory at the office water cooler? No … we do these activities simply because we enjoy them.

The joy of not caring

At the end of the day, many if not most bloggers are amateurs. Many of us have probably considered writing for a living, but that means pleasing our publisher and editor and getting worked up about what critics have to say, and how well we’re selling. That sure seems like it could take the fun out of the activity. If I always write with some potential readership in mind, then I’m really doing this for them. But since this is my hobby, why shouldn’t it be about me? And if others happen to find my stuff useful, funny, or insightful, why not just consider that a bonus?

So if you’ve ever come to the end of an albertnet post—perhaps this very one!—and thought, “Man, that really didn’t do it for me,” don’t be disappointed. This blog was never about you. It’s about me, and more specifically, whatever I think it’d be fun to write about. And thus the answer to “why albertnet?” is a simple one: “because it amuses me.” (I hope it happens to amuse you, too.)

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Email me here. For a complete index of albertnet posts, click here.

About the Author

Introduction

Who is the guy behind albertnet? It has occurred to me that my so-called “complete” profile on Blogger doesn’t actually say much: just that my gender is “MALE” (their all-caps, not mine); that my Occupation is “specialist”; that I live in Albany, CA; and that I’m interested in cycling, food, literature, and parenting.

Of course you could learn all that from the blog itself, but that would take effort. Before making the commitment to spend any time on albertnet, I suppose you deserve the equivalent of the “ABOUT THE AUTHOR” blurb on the jacket of a book. That’s what this post is about.

About the author

DANA ALBERT is a graduate of UC Berkeley, where he earned a degree in English (not such a significant achievement since he grew up speaking English at home). He is a company man turned blogger (though still a company man) and is a regular contributor to albertnet. In fact, he is the regular contributor to albertnet. In addition, Albert’s Letters to the Editor have appeared in the Boulder Daily Camera, the Colorado Daily, the Rivendell Reader, and The New Yorker. He has also written holiday newsletters, chalkboard graffiti, lists of all kinds, and lots of checks. He lives in Albany, California.

(Hmmm. I don’t think that came off exactly right. Let me try again.)

About the author

DANA ALBERT is the author of “Everything You Wanted to Know About Getting A Vasectomy - But Were Afraid To Ask,” “Ode to the Corn Cob,” “Stop Pushing STEM,” and “From Farting Liberally to Liberal Arts - The Flatulence Files.” He has dreamed of winning the Man Booker Prize, The National Book Award, and the lottery.

(Gosh, that didn’t really work out either. Take three!)

About the author

COUNT DANA ALBERT was born on the family estate of Albertus Alberticus in the Pannonia province. He studied Barbaric languages and law at the Sorbonne but left before completing a degree. In 1985 he joined an artillery regiment in the South Orkney Islands. He took part in the Great Orkney Food Fight and after the defense of the Junior Enlisted mess hall table wrote “The Pizza Crust & Thousand Island Dressing Massacre,” which cemented his literary reputation. After leaving the army in 1988 he spent time in San Luis Obispo, California where he got involved in radio stations and bike shops, establishing himself as a world class troublemaker. Albert wrote two great blogs: albertnet and … okay, one blog. So far.

(Getting closer, but perhaps I ought to stick to the facts.)

About the author

DANA ALBERT is one of the top 30 million bloggers in the United States. His posts have been read less widely than the Bible, Shakespeare, and all other published works combined. His output has surpassed more than 1.5 million words, many of which have been read by others. His posts have been translated into dozens of foreign languages by countless users of Google Translate, surely. He died in 1976. Wait. Scratch that. He is alive and well. Relatively.

(Dang it! This is much harder than I thought! Bear with me…)

About the author

Born and raised in Boulder, Colorado during the ‘60s and ‘70s, DANA ALBERT made a full recovery and now lives in California. He is the author of albertnet, along with “Driver Keeps Warm by Seething About Chain Requirements,” “Campaign Signs – the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly,” and, most recently, “Autocomplete Zeitgeist Revisited.” His work has been praised by family members and sarcastic critics alike.

(Nope. That’s not it.)

About the author

LINDSAY ALBERT’s delightful sketches atop the pages of albertnet have earned her a dedicated following of parents and grandparents, and a reputation as one of America’s finest blog illustrators under the age of twenty. Her work, alongside such posts as “Ask a Sinead O’Connor Fan,” “Never Discuss Politics,” and “Helping Teens Cope with COVID-19,” has surpassed even that of previous albertnet illustrators.

(Hmmm. Maybe I can actually use that. But it’d have to be alongside my own. So I have to keep working at mine.)

About the author

DANA ALBERT is a longtime staff writer at albertnet and a syndicated columnist. His columns, including “Ask a Sea Kayaker,” “Ask a Middle-Aged Guy,” and “Ask Dr. Tyre,” appear in more than zero blogs worldwide.

(Oh dear. Not quite there yet.)

About the author

DANA ALBERT is the author of an untold number of unread poems including “Ode to South Park,” “Urination Poetry,” “Ode on a Belly: Mine,” “Ode on a Chain Lube,” and “Ode on a Double-Edged Razor.” In 1989 he was nominated at the UC Santa Barbara Cycling Awards for “Most likely to form a rap group.” He was also considered, though not seriously, for an Honorable Mention in Retail Quarterly magazine for his essay “The Lotion Sniper.” He is almost unanimously reviled by hipster/poseur douchebags for his groundbreaking “Velominati’s ‘The Rules’ – Brilliance or BS?” and has been pestered by his children for almost two decades.

(Damn. That ain’t right.)

About the author

DANA ALBERT left his native land of Boulder, Colorado, to attend college in California in the late 1980s. His literary career was delayed by his dizzying climb up the corporate ladder (dizzying not due to heights achieved, but due to the ladder swinging around, and all that coffee besides). Albert is considered by many of his readers to be an authority on the spelling of “kindergartner.” He lives in Albany, California with his family, though his children keep moving away and his first cat died.

(Man, WTF. I think I’m getting worse at this.)

About the author

DANA ALBERT is a British-influenced unpublished short-story writer who was born in America and stayed. His first book, The Cowboys and Stagecoach, was indecipherable because he hadn’t yet learned the alphabet, and (probably as a result) it was never published. Albert won the Gold Plunger award for best writing about toilet emergencies, with such groundbreaking essays as “Train Trip – Part 3,” “Everest Challenge 2013 (Stage 2),” and “The Toilet Paper Hoarding Conundrum,” though he was subsequently disqualified due to conflict of interest, as he totally made up this contest and was the only entrant.

(Nope. Cannot use that. No way, no how.)

About the author

One of the twenty-first century’s most masterful prose stylists (according to his mother), DANA ALBERT was born at a hospital in June. After learning to read by essentially memorizing Cowboy Sam, Albert went on to be educated in an elementary school, following which he pursued a high school diploma, graduating on time in good standing, and then attended college at a university. Following his formal education he remained in the western hemisphere, where he launched a brilliant literary hobby. He has coached fifth graders in math; seniors in the use of the Android operating system; and high school kids in mountain biking. All of these activities are the rough equivalent of teaching literature at a prestigious university, at least as far as effort and noble intent are concerned.

(Yeah, I know, that pretty much went off the rails.)

About the author

DANA ALBERT is the bestselling author of the Princess Dariella series of children’s books, the basis for the hit Netflix original series Dariella, in his dreams. He would be the recipient of the Food Writers of America Rubber Spatula award for amateur food memoirs, if any such thing existed, based on the potential success of his essays “Easy Recipes for College Kids” and “Homemade Pasta.” He would go on to contribute to the Hulu/BBC adaptation of “My Humiliating Senior Prom,” if any such project were undertaken. He lives in Albany, California with his wife, one of his kids, his cat, and probably about 100 species of arthropods, if his home is typical.

(Perhaps there is a reason this book jacket task is typically carried out by publishers, not writers.)

About the author

DANA ALBERT was trained as an office worker. He has worked as a bike mechanic, an underwear canner, a radio station receptionist, and (though not professionally) as a dishwasher installer. He lives indoors. This is his first blog.

(Okay, that’s a wrap. Here’s the finished product … but I just realized my blog doesn’t have a jacket to put this on.)

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Email me here. For a complete index of albertnet posts, click here.