Will the real Mel Keegan please stand up?

Search engines are great. I mean, they're fantastic. But they're not perfect yet, and even if they were, you can hardly blame poor ol' Google for sending you on a magickal mystery tour when your search parameter was "mel+keegan" and you landed on pages like ...

http://melkeegan.blogspot.com/ (state of the world: melanie)

and

http://www.linkedin.com/pub/4/869/071 Mel Keegan, Director of Business Development at SPEC Services, Inc. Greater Los Angeles Area.

That's not Google's fault. There are at least THREE Mel Keegans in this world ... and I'll bet it drives Melane and the above guy in Los Angeles nuts that every time people search for them, what do they get? They get this crazy dude in Australia who writes popular gay books and yacks on about every subject under the sun. Uh ... me.

But how are you going to copyright and trademark your name? So they're stuck with me. (Hey guys: I really do write good books, and when you have to do your marketing thing, and you're trading on your name. Sorry, and all that, but ... you're, uh, stuck with me.)

Like, think about a gal called Melanie Gibson. She's going to have the same problem. Trying to get people to her website or blog, she's going to be fighting her way through page after page of search engine results for this actor whose face looks like a relief map of the Himalayas. People will have to be pretty darned persistent to find Melanie Gibson's page ... and I wonder if the actor ever apologized?

However, there are times when people do weird and wonderful things with the Google engine.

Just on a whim, I've been going back through the last few hundred search engine results -- those where people clicked through, landed on my homepage or blog; and the service we use (Statcounter) is able to backtrack and tell you what search parameter they used to find me.

Oh, boy.

So, in the interests of information, I thought it would be a good idea if I set the record straight regarding some of the weird, wild, woolly, wonderful Google searches that have led, as unerringly as a line of bees heading for your blue pacifica. Here goes.

I AM NOT KEVIN KEEGAN.

I HAVE NEVER BEEN A PROFESSIONAL SOCCER PLAYER. OR AN AMATEUR SOCCER PLAYER.

(I was an amateur spectator, because you can't be a professional spectator. If you coulda, I woulda, 1978 - 1984. However (and this is strange) no one seemed interested in paying people to park their butts and watch football. They till aren't; is that weird, or what?)

I HAVE NEVER PLAYED FOR LIVERPOOL AND ENGLAND.
Although it would be equally fair to say that, like loads of other young hotshots of our generation, I once lived and breathed soccer and considered Kevin Keegan the best all-rounder in Europe, with possibly the best hair (the permed locks were vastly popular in the 1970s ... several years before Noah launched the Ark. Before CG effects. Before cell phones. Before personal computers and iPods and MP3s and widescreen TV and surround sound in your home theater ... just in the dawn of the Digital Watch Age.

I AM ABSOLUTELY NOT KEVIN KEEGAN.

I ALWAYS CROSS NEAR PARKED CARS. (Bad, bad, bad.)

KEVIN KEEGAN IS NOT A FABULOUSLY TALENTED SCIENCE FICTION NOVELIST...

Although, it would be equally fair to say that there is a reasonable, though remote, possibility that he has read a few Mel Keegan books, out of blind curiosity to know who the hell this other Keegan dude is, the one with whom he's forced to share the first few Google pages every time someone searches on his name. And maybe someone, somewhere, has asked him, point-blank, if his middle name is Mel, and if he's been moonlighting as a gay SF writer for the past 20 years.

The answer is: NO. And just in case Kevin has never thought of writing on his webpage or blog and stating, categorically, for the record, I AM NOT MEL KEEGAN, let me state it for him. The above picture is NOT MEL KEEGAN. Don't be confused by the fact that thousands of people everywhere are in lust with KEVIN Jarrat, created by Mel KEEGAN.

Clear now? Cool. Next:

I AM NOT MEL GIBSON.

I DO NOT GET FALLING DOWN DRUNK IN PUBLIC PLACES.

I HAVE NEVER BEEN AWARDED AN OSCAR IN ANY CAPACITY.

I'm not Jewish myself, but many of my friends are, and I believe in fair go's for all, regardless of religion, race, gender or sexual preference.

And I seriously doubt Mel Gibson would ever have read one of my books, even if he'd been driven by insatiable curiosity to find out who this other Mel bloke is, with whom he is compelled by the Laws of Fate to share the search engine results pages. He probably believes God would send him right to hell for reading one of my books (although routinely getting sh*t-faced, driving in that condition, being racially abusive, and sexist, smoking like a chimney, and ruining your looks so that you look like Grandpa Gibson while you're still in the same general age bracket as the likes of Depp, Pitt, Clooney, Mortensen and other industrial strength heartthrobs, is fine and dandy).

I AM MEL KEEGAN. I DO NOT SMOKE. I DO NOT HAVE WRINKLES.

In fact, I actively campaign against smoking, and here is why:

Compare the picture at right with the picture above. In one, this face is about 32. In the other, it's 52. The difference between the two is only 10% wrought by Time. The other 90% is all about cigarettes and whisky. There are folks among us who want to hang onto what remains of our youth, and enjoy the hell out of it, for as long as we possibly can. Old Mel (G) has his eyes focused on Heaven; the more devout the Catholic, the more he wants Heaven, and the sooner he wants to get there. Hence, the cigarettes and whisky, on the "short life and merry one" principle. (Merry as clearly distinct from gay, you understand.)

The rest of us? Be frightened. Be very, very frightened. And chuck the smokes before you start to look like an old vacuum cleaner bag. Right? Right.

So the whole identity crisis thing should be pellucidly clear by now: I AM NOT KEVIN KEEGAN; I AM NOT MEL GIBSON; I AM NOT MELANIE OF "STATE OF THE WORLD." I DO NOT WORK FOR SPEC IN LA USA. To quote Popeye, "I am waddayam." I'm that crazy dude from downunder who writes the really good gay novels.

Phew, that feels better.

And speaking of really good gay novels, I have these two guys waiting for me to get back to them. Rogan ("Rogue" for short, the big "black panther" Zhenander) and Tristan (Tris for short, the one with the amber eyes and, uh, other physical attractions). THE LORDS OF HARBENDANE is still looking like a late-October release date, well in time for Christmas.

But only if I get back to work on it!