Archive for July 16, 2005

Google is trying to fuck me over.

[ music | Nine Inch Nails – Starfuckers Inc. ]

Ahh yes, I should have known it was too good to be true. Every night I check my AdSense reports to see what progress I’ve made. The vast majority of money I’ve earned so far was from Google ads, a little over $100. They don’t send you a check until you hit that $100 mark either. I went to check my AdSense account, and got this message:

Yeah, this thrilled me. I had to read it three times to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. “Oh shit, now what’s going on?” It’s been two solid days of bad news and fuckups, with a few hours of fun friday night for contrast. So I go over to my GMail account to see what’s up. I just had to agree to the updated TOS yesterday, so I assumed I’d not jumped through all the hoops for that. I see this:

So, I let them run ads on my site for weeks, finally am about to get a check cut, and they decide to cancel my acocunt without warning or inquiry, and take back the moeny they would have had to pay me. Now. I guarantee I have in no way “cheated” the system, run click-bots, nor hired a room of people in Bangalore to click my page ads. It took me WEEKS just to make that measley $100 as it was. So, all I can think of is that if you, my loyal readership, have been clicking my ads, which is supposedly what they want, that’s apparently a bad thing. I guess I should just be happy to show their ads for them, and not get paid. Needless to say, I’m less than happy, and have requested some accounting for these actions. We’ll see how long that takes.

If I could find some kind of contact information for Yahoo’s Overture division, I’d switch to their ads, but all I can find is ways to advertise with them, not carry any ads. So for now it’s just the Amazon block there. I’m trying to think of something else to slide in there for revenue. The fates are again conspiring to fuck me before I manage to get ahead. Any rich readers out there want to invest $5k in a human-startup?

And goddamnit, I’m sick of being lonely. I’m not a fucking island. I was wrong. I’m sorry already. When do I get to move on? When do I get to stop being punished? That’s what hurts most. For once I want a shoulder to cry on. I just want out of here so badly. So damn badly…

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