As an internationally recognised usability pundit who is often chased down the street, I’ve run out of corporate wallets to shake down so I’ve decided to pick on YOUR crappy little homepage to boost my self-esteem while grinding your’s into dust. Bear in mind that I’ve worked on all the big sites and, while they may have more staff, more at stake and far larger lovely, lovely budgets for expensive consultancy, that’s no excuse for foisting your effluent proletarian musings on the Internet and not expecting me to loftily disdain them. I spit on your lowly efforts, you worthless schmoe. Here are the top ten reasons you’re an ignorant bozo, as picked out by ME.
- Nothing about me, ME, ME!
Your readers want to know all about me. Have I approved of your page? More precisely, why didn’t I like it? What doesn’t meet my guidelines? An “About my obvious and pathetic failure” page helps to reassure visitors to your site that you defer to my superior intellect on this topic.
- No photo
Without a photo, I cannot properly infer connections between the laughable state of your web design and your personal appearance - the unkempt hair, that ring of mouldy pizza crumbs around the greasy, pustulent folds of your neck, your inherent ugliness that is reflected in your choice of text colours. Without a photo, I will never be able to laugh openly at you, should I accidentally encounter you one day after breaking down in whatever sorry downtown backstreet lot you are squatting on. I put my photo up to get hot dates; you should post yours so you can be rounded up and humanely destroyed at the local dog pound.
- Seemingly random titles
Don’t be cute. Don’t be humourous. I have a far more advanced sense of humour than you, and you’re just not funny. Stick to something literal that’s well within your puny capabilities, like “A dull and pointless posting about my empty shell of a life”. If you must shorten it, just use the word “Dull”.
- Whassup! Having a Bud
- That usability guy can suck my blogroll
- Flange cheese
- Chronic alcholism as an inadequate crutch for my manifest failings
- He’s right, I suck and will always suck
- My distressing lack of personal hygiene
- Links not in my bookmarks
Why should anyone follow a hyperlink that may not have been reviewed and approved by me? You may think it’s “cool” to link to whatever you like, but that ain’t what the web is for, boy, and you’re abusing my patience. If you feel an irresistable urge to insert a link, stop and lie down. Better yet, delete your entire site. But failing that, why not simply copy in all the text from the link to save your reader the danger of clicking on something that is only of interest to you and those who share your prurient and contagious little hobbies. At least this way they can stop browsing immediately and head back to my site.
- No classic content
But then again, it’s not surprising, is it? I surfed over your site for at least five seconds and didn’t see anything that didn’t immediately make me want to torch my monitor and buy an uncontaminated one to replace it. Let’s face it, the only highlight is the relief of that closing </HTML> tag.
- Lack of commitment
C’mon you big puss. Just because it’s a personal site, you think you can get away with writing entries “when I feel like it”? You know what you lack? Balls - huge balls of barbed wire. Because you’re scared. You know that deep down, you’re just not good enough to share this net with people like me. You’ll sit down to write and it will suck HARD, harder than that vacuum cleaner you regularly misuse in the absence of a willing farm animal. Give it your best shot. Spew forth your syphilitically deranged drivellings every day for a week so we can judge just what a sorry excuse for an unevolved single cell organism you are. Don’t save your “best” stuff up. It’s a waste of time because your best sure ain’t gonna win a gold medal. It ain’t even gonna leave the blocks. The starter will shoot it with his pistol out of pity. And then he’ll tie the remains to one of the genuine athletes and let them drag it round that track before millions of disgusted spectators until it’s a bloody smear. Gah, even I vomit at the thought.
- Mixing topics
Poly-what? Polymath? You’re a polymath? Oh sure, you can’t even pronounce it. You think it’s some kind of digital parrot. Forget it. Stick to one subject, because that’s better than exposing your ignorance about everything. People might think you’re only an imbecile within the confines of that single topic, although to be honest I doubt they’ll be that generous. But the more narrow your focus and the more esoteric your niche, the fewer people will have to endure the feverish rantings of someone helplessly in the throes of a masturbatory climax.
If you must stray from the fetid alleyways of your singular perverted kink, ring your mother instead and tell her about it, then listen carefully as she weeps over the sordid memory of your conception.
- Forgetting that you may need to beg for work one day
At every moment while writing, think about who you could possibly offend. That person may one day be in charge of your local kwik-i-mart, at which you will be forced to apply for the night shift after plunging through a succession of increasingly low paid web design jobs (which it was transparently obvious you were not remotely qualified for). And then they will reject your application because they will discover that you once told a so-called “joke” about Windows users. Remember: your deluded belief in your right to free speech may seriously harm your prospects of working for an uptight puritan who is more concerned with the filthy moral depravity that you commit on your own time than whatever meagre talents you may be trying to whore out. I wouldn’t hire you to fill cans of dog food. Unless you came in your own jelly.
- Having a blogspot.com address
Bwah! You LOSER! Go on, say it. Ring up your local radio phone-in right now and say loudly and clearly: “I am a loser!” Get it branded on to your forehead while you’re at it. I spurn you for the pathetic no-mark you are. Your web site is an insult to humanity, and barely even complimentary to trained monkeys. It’s not usable and it sure as hell ain’t tolerable. Go back to obscurity if it’ll have you, you congenital non-entity.
- Pictures of your cats
If you do this, I will be forced to come round and give you a prolonged kicking with steelcapped boots. And I eat kittens. With lashings of tabasco sauce.