Slashdot Mirror
Google Tracking Frequent Users
BrianGa writes "According to this article, Google has started placing
a counter on its home page for a small number of its most frequent users.
Most Google users do not have it, but a select few now have a counter that notes
the actual number of searches made. For the curious, an explanatory page
linked to the counter reveals that this is a test, or limited-sample experiment
of a new search counting feature."
Your story intrigues me. Please subscribe me to your newsletter.
search engines tracks YOU!
This is why I surf at -1. A rare gem, if I may say so :-)
Now for a little contribution of my own:
Little Rebecca was afraid. It was dark in the room but she dared not lift the blinds, because Her Man had said she couldn't. And what Her Man said she couldn't Rebecca never questioned ever since he started using the tingly-dingly thing on her thighs and crotch. Whenever Her Man was upset with her he would take out the tingly-dingly thing and it would spark once or twice with electricity before he would press it on the bare skin of her thighs which would immediately feel as if they've been struck by a sledge hammer and Rebecca couldn't stand up for hours afterwards because her legs ached so much.
Rebecca was married, but Rebecca was only a sullen twelve-year old girl with long dark hair and blue eyes but already with budding pubescent breasts. They never went to church to get married and no priest ever said they were, but Her Man was priest, groom and bridefather for her ever after that long-ago afternoon when the grey pickup had pulled up alongside her while she was on her way back home from school.
Today was a special day. Rebecca knew what was in store for her today because today was DISCIPLINE DAY. Today was the day when the needle and the syringe would bring agonizing pain to her as he injects saline solution spiked with a little citric acid into her breasts just below and above her yet tiny nibbles.
Already masturbating? Excellent. Press continue with your free hand.
What's your reason, you need a good blow job?
There was a warm and cozy place ruled by the coldest of hearts in one of the harshest and coldest strips of country mankind has seen fit to settle on. It's promise of warmth shone out for dozens of miles and yet it was probably one of the farthest and most difficult to reach locations hidden in the deep wintery frost of the sibirian taiga. An unitiated meddler would have had to rely on GPS navigation to find it for getting there would have entailed taking a four hour flight from Moscow over the Ural mountains, landing at a dismal province landing strip and getting into a soviet era military jeep with a driver as silent as an empty bottle of vodka twisting in the wind on a late russian winter night. That jeep would have taken whatever privileged elite was on his or her way to enjoyment for another four hours over the frozen sibirian countryside over roads that only existed in the imagination of the driver. All the while the imaginations of the passenger on said jeep would revolve around the at times thirty to fourty young girls from 6 to 13 which would serve his special needs once her arrived.
Leonid Pavelnikov didn't care who he drove to 'The Datcha'. Most of his life he spent not caring about the 'why' and that attitude had spared him many a bullet where others would have been done away with, without another thought wasted on them. Today he was taking a special guest to the datcha. An American. As American as they get down to the last detail, a fat blond face with a fat bulging guts and a wheezing breath, why he was even wearing leather pants and cowboy boots. The guest didn't think that Pavelnikov would take notice but he was rubbing his crotch in anticipation with his forearms as the jeep swung into the driveway. Leonid just looked at him without another word, handed him the keys and told him he would return in 72 hours to take him back. That was the longest conversation these two men ever had. Rubbing your crotch in anticipation? What would you do with thirty girls in the middle of nowhere?
... that you must be new here! I therefore offer you this PRICELESS series of rhyming haikus that will acquaint you to /. faster than an unladen African swallow:
/.!
1. First post! is better
than a beowulf cluster, but
does it run linux?
2. Bittorrent pr0n shared,
but rights of the goatse guy
are belong to us!
3. I A N A L,
But Microsoft and SCO says:
"This is Chewbacca."
4. Yet in other news,
polls show insensitive clods
are from America.
5. Natalie Portman,
both naked and petrified,
covered with hot grits!
6. ?
7. In Soviet Russia,
overlords, for one, welcome
Cowboyneal's profits!
Comprehende now? Welcome to
I'm the moderation eater! I eat all your moderation points.
I'll eat your little girl too!! Just kidding. That would be something even _I_ would call perverted! I might just tie her to my bed and then whip her with my belt which takes us to our next story: "Disciplinarians Inc."
Thirteen-year old Bonny was a bad girl. Her attitude towards respect and obedience were much worse than her parents time allowed, for both were busy running a family business that had kept bread on the table for generations of the family. Bonny knew that discipline was a rare thing to happen and when it was about to be visited on her she would have it at her terms, making the process of punishment so much more of an effort than the doubtful change of attitude in the young lady was worth. Bonny knew it, and her parents knew it and Bonny got more and more out of hand as puberty took hold of her.
That was the way it was, until one tuesday afternoon right at the beginning of what had seemed to be another uneventful week of winter. Bonny was looking for her skates even though she had been commanded not to leave the house this day when the doorbell rang and her Mother issued a stifled laugh and went to open the door.
"Mr. Steward, so good that you could make time for Bonny". The man replied something in a low voice that Bonny could not understand but instinctively she shrank away from the door frame she had been standing in and listening. Two instants later or one flash of Bonnies eyelids and a very large and athletic man in his thirties was towering over her and saying "So... You are Bonny? Little bad Bonny? I am Mr. Stewart. I will punish you!". With as brief as introduction as that he grabbed Bonny by the arm and rushed her off into her room where for the next two hours shrieks of pain and mildly amused male chuckles of mirth would come.
Bonny took off her clothes and ear rings exactly as she was told. Deep down in her heart she knew that slowness or disrespect might worsen the situation she was in by magnitudes. Mr. Stewart made her kneel on her bed and thrust out her bare chest as he circled around her swatting her everywhere lightly with something that looked like a dog's leather leash and lecturing her with his deep and onimous voice. Whack! With all his power and strength he flung the leash across her thighs! AIYEEE! Her lungs and vocal cords acknowledged the fiery agony that had been visited upon her left upper leg! Masturbating...? You know the drill... Finish the story in your head!
You wrote "it's" where you should've written "its."
You wrote "it's" where you should've written "its."
I used it in the sens of "something that is owned by it", which you may notice is called posessive.
Similarly, you might say:
John's dog is black. It's eyes are blue.
See how that works? "it's" is either posessive or "it is". "its" is plural (as in multiple "its").
in the sens of
Then again, there's no accounting for my bad spelling.
in the *sense* of.
I used it in the sens of "something that is owned by it", which you may notice is called posessive.
But which doesn't apply to possessive pronouns like his, hers, its, and theirs. English is tough, eh?
Vino, gyno, and techno -Bruce Sterling
It's incorrect to use an apostrophe in "its" as a possessive pronoun.
No. It's funny how you think you are right when you are in fact painfully wrong.
"It's" is shorthand for "it is". You say "It's John's dog. Its eyes are blue." The possessive -- that's with ss as in "possess," mind you -- you will notice the correct use of a possessive in the second part of the sentence.
Educate yourself
Your post is officially a Poor one. Thank you for trying, better luck next time!