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I've been wondering how to get more hits on YouTube. Honestly, nothing has been on my mind so feverishly in the past few weeks. I have over 150 videos online, and some are really good. I don't mean to make this a "come view my videos" daylog, but unless you do, your advice in helping me may not be as good. And you may not understand why my complaints are justified, if you don't view a couple of them. Or you could just skip to my YouTube rant.

For instance, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sq6-9O4ZRcE

That's a prime example of a really good video that isn't getting views. It's a truck hitting a barrier at a military base at 50mph. The barrier wins, suffice it to say. And the truck explodes.

Here's a few others of the "fail" genre:

I also have video of and interviews with Glenn Beck, Dawn Wells, Henry Winkler and video of Obama, but all lack views as well:

What I don't understand is why my most viewed video has only 1,000 views. The first link up top has the potential to be a Fail Blog headliner. Fail Blog, if you didn't know, is the 18th most subscribed to YouTuber. That channel gets millions upon millions of views. My Truck explosion could get millions of views, if I had the subscriber base. They have 45,000 subscribers. I have 20.

So in terms of video quality, I'm actually doing well. In terms of actual demographics, I'm doing poorly. So it makes it difficult in finding a target audience. While I have certain videos that should bode well, for the most part, most of my videos are not for a broad audience. I'm a local news reporter in Idaho. No one cares about Idaho. WTF do I do about that? Well, some cool things happen in Idaho... There's still crime, scandals, blood, and even intellectuals...

And despite the fact I've had a grand total of 20,000 views on all of my videos, compared to the grand masters of YouTube, I'm a nothing. I have videos that would make animal activists cry.

But a tag system that only generates 200 views on "Worst matted Shitzu dog ever," is just crap.

Millions of videos uploaded on YouTube has meant that sifting through the spam and junk is never ending. The few good ones that surface to the top have little to do with quality, and more to do with luck, or gimmicks.

How many of you are sick of stupid YouTubers who put a nearly naked girl at the dead center of their video, just to get a few more views? (sxephil I'm looking right at you.)

I know I am. YouTube might as well let uploaders choose any picture. Instead, only people who edit into their 3 minute clip, exactly 1 minute and 30 seconds that barely clothed chick, are really gaining. The best video in terms of news is always at the front. But sometimes an anchor has to read an intro to it, so I hardly ever get the best picture to identify my video. Plus my videos are frequently 4 second shots, so the picture tags hardly ever line up or make sense on a global scale. Especially if it happens to be a cutaway at the middle marker.

So anyway, if you have ideas on how to get more YouTube hits, that don't loop into utilizing social networking sites, please send me a msg. Feel free to drop me a line at http://www.youtube.com/heitah. Or even subscribe. Until I figure out how to get more YouTube hits, I may not write on E2 again.

I'd been glancing at the clock every few minutes for the past half an hour or so. Now it was time to go. I saved the last few minutes' changes, logged out of everything and packed the last of my gear back into my faithful backpack. With a last word to my colleagues, I Ctrl-Alt-Backspaced my workstation and turned to the door. Less than a minute later, I was breathing fresh air and basking in the blinding rays of the Western sun. A palmtop computer appeared, and I was back on IRC. I walked quickly West, knowing that if this were to succeed, I had just a few minutes to get into the building before six, but I didn't want to be hanging around before-hand if I didn't have to be.

All is peaceful, all is still. The world is silent, bar the creaking of iron sheeting, the monotonous thudding of wind driven circulation vents, and the gentle pur of an industrial motor that is an air conditioner somewhere below. In about an hour, the sun will be kissing the horizon, the fiery, deep orange ball turning to hues of magenta the now pale blue sky. It's still heaps too early for this. I spent a few minutes fiddling with my camera, making sure it wasn't going to let me down for the shoot.

A "clunk-clack whirrrr" from the lift motor room has broken the tranquility. It was called to ground, then sent to the top. I can hear a jangle of keys, and heavy boots tromping down the stairs. A door just banged in the distance. Tranquility has returned.

My vigil has been temporarily broken for a sip of orange-mango to quench my thirst, and to open a window to release some of the stale air building up in here. Why do I seem to have several dozen Redskins in my backpack when I don't even like them? ...Wait, that one was a nine volt battery. As the sun slowly slips lower and lower, I retrieved my gloves and secured my palmtop. Just a few more minutes.

With "The Final Countdown" going through my head, I threw the window wide open. One leg went out, then the other. A quick swing, and I was ascending the brick-work. Thirty seconds later, camera was on tripod and rolling. Tiny blip followed another as the shutter fired relentlessly. This is what I came for, my mission was now well underway.

The smiling ball of fire has now become a soft orange glow. Lengthening shadows are growing less and less distinct. I wish my camera could do long-exposure. The peaks of St Peters mark a brown jag in the northern horizon, and the cityscape to the South lights itself with a multicoloured fluorescence as the last shimmers of day cease to exist. A now blackened figure silhouetted against the final ray, I turned to the stairs, covered in dust.

After trudging down the countless stairs (I should know how many there are by now), I cleaned the cobwebs and black patches off myself as best I could. Dropping past the bridge on my way to the train station, only path-lights glistened off the almost ripple-less surface of the water metres below. A pale white glow from my palmtop computer reflected eerily off my face as I walked. Hitting the footpath once again, I paused to glance up at the bulk looming over me. That building had been so inviting for hours just minutes ago. Train wasn't leaving for another 30 minutes, and I was getting hungry. I went to the end of the platform, where I could see the sky. I sat there for a good few minutes, breathing deeply the sweet, night air.

The CBD slowly devolved itself into a sea of twinkling lights. The warm, friendly rumble of a large diesel engine underneath me combined with a jet of cool air on my face from an air-conditioning unit above to lull me almost to sleep. Ahead of us lay an envelope of darkness. I really wanted some chocolate right now. Delving into my trusty backpack, the closest match seemed to be condoms or CR2032s. Oh well. Head now on my backpack, I was slowly drifting away.

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