The terms of my ad agreement stipulate I cannot tell people to click on their links, and I’m not, but I do call your attention to them briefly today, and never again. You know how they work, right? Google’s servers sniff your page and figure out who might be reading it, then toss up some ads to suit what it thinks are their tastes. Once I searched Blake’s line “the moon like a flower in heaven’s high bower / in silent delight sits and smiles on the night” and got an ad for 1-800-FLOWERS. Proving, I hope, that computers have a way to go to catch up with us.
So I just loaded the page and got four — two for ice-skating, apparently prompted by my mention of Kate’s ice capades; one for Detroit home inspectors, perhaps because of my driving tour of Mexicantown; and finally, one for roll-off Dumpsters. Huh? Ah, this must be the reason: Yesterday came the news that Ford Motor Co. could not have lost more money last year if they’d set fire to the building and used a dump truck to drop $100 bills into the flames for 12 months straight.
This is going to be fun. This may be a new form of written performance art — the Google Ad Scramble. Let the games begin.