Fuck You, Google.

Everyone keeps telling me I should monetise this blog. EVERYONE. “Yeah, yeah” I tell them, “I didn’t get myself into this for the cash”. I hardly have enough time to write my rants, let alone enter the realm of trying to make money out of my weird and unexpected little hobby.

But since I get a fairly large number of people sniffing around my blog, I thought maybe I could get some Google AdSense going. This basically means you verify your blog with Google and they filter ads onto it depending on the content. And you make some cashola.

I wasn’t worried about what you would all think of this, because, lets face it, nobody looks at those things anyway. You probably wouldn’t even notice. My vagina steaming video wasn’t paying my bills ($2 so far), so I thought I’d take the next leap into selling my soul. I really only want to cover my hosting fees which are not insignificant. So imagine my horror after spending a fair amount of time figuring out how to do this, only to be told my blog was “unacceptable” and didn’t fit the guidelines of suitable partnership.

Well FUCK YOU GOOGLE ADSENSE. Are you insane? Fuck You Friday is extremely awesome, with thousands of readers and some insightful comedy about everyday shit. Can you not see this? I don’t know what the problem is. Will you find me a hard sell to your clientele? Because every third word is fuck? Get real, everybody is doing it. Be modern, be brave, break some fucking ground Google.

I will make this really simple for you, I’ve come up with some ads that would be perfect for my site. I’m not an advertising guru, but I reckon some of these might just fucking work.

Do you remember that time I told Tiger Air to shove their excess baggage fee up their tight little Tiger arse hole? Well, this is the perfect opportunity for their number 1 competitor Jetstar to jump right in and give them the middle finger. Check it out.



Or how about when I told everyone that I had been thinking about Donald Trump naked? Helloooo Hillary. Yeah, she could jump on the gravy train and serve up another wallop to The Don.


Or what about the rival Facebook groups for mums? I reckon Northern Beaches Mums have a golden opportunity to stick it to the North Shore Mums.


So for everyone out there who’s been telling me I should be making money, I tried. And I failed. Perhaps I should make my own fucking products and then I can create my own fucking ads and sell my own fucking shit to whoever the fuck I like. Like sachets of Himalayan fart salt for shits and giggles at dinner parties, bunches of cock laden kale and cups of shut the fuck up.

I’m onto something here, don’t you think?

Fuck You Google AdSense and your stupid fucking rules. Soon you will be begging for a piece of Far Kew’s blog space, but I will remember how badly you treated me in these early days and I will have to seriously consider any offer down the track. You can call my people. They may or may not tell you to get fucked.


Liked it? Then like the page using the big LIKE button if you haven’t already, or I’ll send you long haul on Tiger Air.


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