Believing what you read on the Internet

Here’s a shocker: everything you read on the Internet isn’t necessarily correct (GASP!) Yep, sorry to disillusion you trusting folks, but some of the expert advice is simply inane ramblings of illiterate fools.

I’m prompted to complain about this after a recent Bing search for some plant information. I’ve been writing articles on Associatedcontent.com for more than two years, and recently I started doing articles on The Examiner. On AC I write about a variety of subjects which interest me, mainly gardening, medical matters, and gemstones. My Examiner writings are all about gardening, in which I have some expertise and a couple decades of experience and training.

Being old-school, I try very hard to provide clear and truthful information, backed up with reputable annotations and attributions. There are lots of reasons why this is the best policy, but, mainly, it’s simply the right thing to do. I can’t claim to be infallible, but to me, giving honest advice and reliable facts are essential.

I participate in several writer’s forums and have become familiar with other people who write for these websites and several others. Many of these writers believe in the same standards and produce some great and worthy stuff.

Unfortunately, while wandering around AC, I’ve been subjected to some of the worst, most egregious crap imaginable. I’ve found articles rife with misspellings, grammar mistakes and flat out bull, rambling statements of “facts” and advice that are totally wrong.  I’m not being a stickler for grammar here, because, truth be known, I feel secretly insecure about my own knowledge of grammar and rethink what I write all the time. No, I’m talking about writing that’s almost illegible and unreadable. Stuff that looks like it was composed by a nine year old non-native English speaker struggling to translate from some obscure dialect. Possibly it was, because AC is somewhat notorious for erratic standards for the articles which are reviewed by content managers, and also allows unmonitored self-posting after three reviewed articles are published.

AC isn’t alone in spewing this type of terrible content into cyberspace. Lots of the writers I know write for a legion of other sites like eHow, Helium, Squidoo and others, which have various standards of oversight. These places offer teeny payments based on a variety of metrics and work-at-home freelance writers typically dabble a little here, a little there to make do.

There are two sides to this story. If sites like AC didn’t exist, I’d be unable to work. Like many other aspiring writers with physical disabilities, childcare concerns, or other personal difficult situations brought on by the economy, a chance to earn just a little dribble of income and satisfy our creative urges is most welcome. There’s even a grandiose component of power to the people involved here. Almost anyone can be heard. The trouble is, I’m snooty enough to think that what some people have to say isn’t worth being heard.

After just a few weeks experience with The Examiner, I’ve learned that their standards and training attempts are a cut above the other sites. Here writers are free to publish spontaneously, but there’s much more encouragement to elevate the level of work, and definite rules about correct attribution. And they carefully screen applicants and require writing samples before approval.

Blogs are even more free-wheeling, but readers generally come to blogs aware of their nature. At a site like Associatedcontent.com or Squidoo, the reader might think they’re being served expert opinion, or might not even question the source.

Which brings me back to my Bing search. The top 10 results I got were all sites of this amateurish nature, written by non-credentialed, unsupervised, self-styled experts. I kept searching until I found something originating from a university horticulture department, which is what I consider a trustworthy source, but how many searchers go that deep?

Anyone with half a brain knows there’s a difference between referring to a site with a name like miracle_ acai_cure and a reputable site like webmd.com for medical advice. Are people as discerning when seeking tips for growing petunias? Probably not so much with less critical matters, but why look for information if you intend to settle for useless drivel?

Cleaning up Pittsburgh

We’re all a bit stunned by the selection of Pittsburgh as the site of the G20. It’s sort of how I might feel if George Clooney called me for a date. (George, if you read this, I’m free Friday.)

Without a thought to the pros and cons of the political issues surrounding the G20, or the inevitable protests, I believe we all agree that Pittsburgh will need to look its best before the unparalleled world attention. Our local politicians are scurrying to deal with security, police response to protests, logistics and all that stuff, but my reaction is more aligned with that of any typical woman who gets a call that company is on the way. OMG, dust the cat hair off the coffee table!

Pittsburgh has extraordinary virtues. Most of the country thinks of us as backwater and rust belt, a place with no fun to offer, second only to Cleveland in undesirability. Well, they’re wrong. Those of us who live here know that, and that’s why we are so emotionally attached to the town. Pittsburgh will finally be revealed as a wonderful, relatively safe, green and affordable place; America’s most livable city as Rand McNally told you all twice.

But there is one problem: it is probably America’s filthiest city. We’re pigs for some reason. We throw trash everywhere. The roads and sidewalks are disgusting. Stop at a red light and you see clots of McDonald’s debris, beer cans, plastic bags, on and on, no end. It’s depressing in the slushy winter grayness and it stinks in the oppressive heat and humidity of summer. The business district in Squirrel Hill, one of our more upscale urban neighborhoods, reeks like garbage on a summer evening. There are spots on the sidewalk concrete that are crusted with grease from restaurant garbage.

Much of Pittsburgh’s ethnic heritage persists generations after our immigrants were assimilated. At risk of resorting to stereotypes, I can still picture the little Polish grannies on the Southside sweeping their stoops, and the Italians in Bloomfield carefully tending tiny yards. The general home maintenance here is about the same as in other cities. Most homeowners seem to do the best they can to paint and repair, plant flower beds and spiff up their exteriors. Why then do they throw their pizza boxes over the hillside while at the red light? I suspect it’s not homeowners, but younger people who do this, again risking stereotype. Hello, Pittsburghers, it’s not okay to toss the kid’s dirty diaper out the car window in the Kmart parking lot.

Before the All-Star game in 2006, our mayor organized a huge “Redd Up Pittsburgh” campaign, knowing we had to do something or risk national embarrassment. For non-natives, let me explain that “redd up” is Pittsburghese for “clean up”, as in “Geez, yinz better redd up before the Stiller party.”

Yes, Pittsburgh, the leaders of the free world are about to be pulling into the driveway. Get the dirty dishes out of the sink, pick up the socks off of the floor, and shoo the cat off the top of the microwave. And put that dirty diaper in the garbage can.

Tips on What to Eat when You’re Broke and Hungry

If you are new to the world of living without, here are some ways to deal with an empty refrigerator.

See more at http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1674545/tips_on_what_to_eat_when_youre_broke.html

Guide to Buying Dandelion Seeds

You are probably thinking, “Why would anyone BUY dandelion seeds?”

Most folks with any spots of earth around their homes exert efforts to rid themselves of dandelions. Avid lawn lovers frantically labor to eradicate dandelions. Buying seeds sounds like purchasing used cat litter or shopping for live flu virus.

Dandelions have a long history as a culinary and medicinal plant, and, surprise,  the seeds are increasingly in demand.

See more at http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1653577/guide_to_buying_dandelion_seeds.html

Three Officers Killed in Pittsburgh Shooting

Three Pittsburgh police officers were killed and two wounded by a gunman barricaded in his home.

See more at http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1623508/three_officers_killed_in_pittsburgh.html

Summersweet (Clethra Alnifolia): A Choice Fragrant Shrub for Your Garden

Clethra is an adaptable native shrub offering wonderfully fragrant blooms in midsummer.

See more at http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1593978/summersweet_clethra_alnifolia_a_choice.html

How to Get Rid of Scale Insects on Indoor Plants Organically

Scale insects on indoor plants present a tricky problem and home remedy recommendations have changed.

See more at http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1494410/how_to_get_rid_of_scale_insects_on.html

Pittsburgh’s Goin’ to the Superbowl, ta-da!

Blogging, or for that matter doing anything on the Internet, while using a pen name is a good idea. If I were to use my real name and then openly admit that the Pittsburgh Steelers weren’t the most important thing in my life, admit that I love my family, God, country and Lost more than the Steelers, I would be tracked down and my home firebombed.  That’s the beauty of living in Pittsburgh.

I’m not anti-Steelers. I’m glad they won yesterday. I was really happy when they won the Superbowl two years ago, and I even went out on my porch in the freezing cold and screamed along with all my neighbors who were banging pots and detonating fireworks. Steeler victories are good for the local economy, good for the morale of the fans, and helpful to the image of the city. I draw the line at the insanely obsessive mind-set of some Pittsburghers.

A few weeks ago, when guys from another team stomped on the Terrible Towel, the local news media made it the major story of the week, and one dolt-on-the-street who was interviewed said he felt like “it was as if they did it to the Baby Jesus.”  I wanted to slap him with a steel pierogi. C’mon! I don’t normally get too riled up about religion, my philosophy is to each his own, but, this guy crossed the line. Obviously he’s a self-proclaimed Christian or he wouldn’t have mentioned Jesus, and if he can’t distinguish between his chosen Lord and Savior, and a scrap of yellow terrycloth, well…

Anyway, before I incur the wrath of the entire Steeler Nation for implying that the Steelers aren’t equal to God, I’ll lead you to an article on Associatedcontent.com that I wrote with a prediction about this year’s Superbowl. I’m not skilled in astrology, but Mercury retrograde is a phenomenon familiar to amateurs and it’s going to screw up this big game. Take a look at my prediction.

I’m not as crazy as some people…

My last post detailed how I got into caring for three imaginary puppies on Facebook because I’m too neurotic to stop the silliness.

Today I looked at the message board on the puppy app, Pokey, and saw a post by someone who said they spend 3 to 4 hours a day feeding and caring for virtual puppies that others abandoned.  I didn’t spend more than a couple minutes reading the posts, but from the general tone I saw that this person was not alone in the delusion.  Whoa! Alright! Other people make me look sane.

Need I point out that these people might think of spending this time volunteering at an animal shelter actually helping real abandoned pets?

Since I wrote my last post, my daughter-in-law reminded me that she would care for her puppy if only I didn’t beat her to it before she came home from work each day. Happily, I was rational enough to let go of her dog, Edward, but poor no name is still bothering me.

It is a tremendous relief to realize that insanity is a matter of degree, and has a wide spectrum. On a scale of one to one hundred,  with one being sane and one hundred being Amy Winehouse, would place myself at about…hmmmmm… 42.

Obama would be about a seven, only because he hasn’t totally conquered cigarettes.

Paula Abdul lands at 79.

Tom Cruise would be maybe a 59.

Governor Blagojevich is clearly 87.

Rachel Ray, bless her heart, could have a touch of OCD, but maintains a solid 28. After all, she puts cheese in everything, so she couldn’t be too crazy.

The writers of Grey’s Anatomy, not noticing that the show jumped the shark early this season, come in at a collective 66.

I realize that twins yearn to be seen as individuals but, alas, the Olsens have to share a number: 71.

All viewers of The Bachelor should be lumped together at 75.

Elizabeth Hasselbeck frequently admits loving The Bachelor, and George Bush, so her score should be way up there. On the other hand, she seems to be managing rather sanely as a mom, so she’s hard to rate. What tips us off to her basic craziness is her wardrobe on The View. Yes, it’s darling and flattering, but in the deepest winter she wears sundress type things with bare shoulders and makes me feel chilly. Give her a 77.

Imagined Responsibility for an Imaginary Dog

This is hard to admit, but I seem to be overwhelmed with the responsibility of caring for several dogs that don’t exist, one of which would belong to a total stranger, if it did exist, which it doesn’t.

A psychiatrist would probably walk away in disgust at such a neurotic display of guilt, but I can’t manage to turn my back on these virtual dogs. How did this happen to me? Facebook is to blame.

A few weeks ago, I got a friend request from someone named Christine, a woman I’d never met. I’d seen her name a few times in the news feeds connected to my nieces and nephews who live on the other side of the country, so her name was vaguely familiar. I don’t get to talk with these relatives very often, so I can’t even claim a connection with Christine as solid as hearing them mention her. When I saw the friend request, my first thought was to accept. She looked harmless and I figured she probably clicked the wrong button and inadvertently invited me. Maybe she had me confused with another family member who she had actually met. I keep my Facebook circle small and non-public, and it wasn’t as if she stumbled in off the street.

Last week my daughter-in-law, Stacey, sent me an invitation to adopt a puppy on Facebook in an application called Pokey. She showed off her own new pet, Edward. Pokey is a promotion for the movie “Marley and Me” and it works like other virtual pet worlds, the pet must be fed, watered, and given affection on a regular basis, or it languishes. I thought it was a cute idea, so I adopted a black lab puppy. I named her Twinkie since she was artificial and sweet. I described Twinkie as “Very well behaved, never chews up my shoes, loves popcorn.”

Each morning when I stop by to care for Twinkie, the status of my friends’ dogs appear on the page. Edward is usually “hungry, thirsty and lonely” only because Stacey is at work and hasn’t gotten time to visit him yet. I decided there was no harm in helping out with Edward since Stacey might not get to him until evening.

Unfortunately, Christine’s dog is there, too. It’s labeled “no name” and has apparently been abandoned in mid-creation. Every day it’s “hungry, thirsty and lonely,” so I began giving it food, water and a few little pats. Yesterday it was listed as “starving, thirsty and very, very lonely.” Now I’m really getting steamed at this Christine character.

Christine probably forgot all about poor, starving no name and left him to die. Subscribers to Pokey can view abandoned and suffering pups and volunteer to help them or simply visit those that are well cared for to give extra love and attention. A few strangers have dropped in to pat Twinkie. If I stop caring for no name I can’t be sure whether anyone else will step up. The pups are extremely cute and lifelike, romping around, displaying lovably familiar puppy mannerisms. Pretty hard to resist, but THREE PUPPIES! That’s a lot of responsibility. Should I write to my niece and suggest she talk to Christine? Maybe turn her over to the SPCA?

Or, better yet, I could seek psychiatric help, because these dogs are nothing but cartoons created by a devilishly clever programmer, designed to ensnare the hearts of delusional old ladies who are one step away from appearing on films at eleven, caught in a raided house with 48 animals in filthy conditions. I can ignore no name! I can ignore Edward! I can ignore Twinkie for that matter! They don’t exist. But they’re so cute…