Анализ страницы https://dougrichardson.com/blog/
Основное Готовность: 75%
Домен
dougrichardson.com
Состояние доменного имени
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Проверяем корректность доменного имени и наличие технических проблем на уровне домена.
Длина домена велика. Но если вы продвигаете запрос, входящий в название домена, то это хорошо.
Домен второго уровня идеален для продвижения.
Ответ сервера
200 Успешный ответ
HTTP-код ответа и цепочка редиректов
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Код 200 — страница доступна. Коды 3xx — редиректы (цепочки замедляют загрузку и размывают ссылочный вес). Коды 4xx/5xx — ошибки, поисковик не сможет проиндексировать страницу.
Сервер настроен корректно.
Безопасность
Сайт безопасен
Использование HTTPS и SSL-сертификат
?
HTTPS — обязательный стандарт. Google и Яндекс отдают предпочтение защищённым сайтам. Отсутствие SSL или просроченный сертификат ведут к предупреждениям в браузере и снижению позиций.
Не настроен HSTS (Strict-Transport-Security) — рекомендуется включить.
На сайте работает защищенный протокол ssl и сайт открывается по https.
Ssl-сертификат действителен до 30.10.2026 8:06:44.
Сервер поддерживает HTTP/3 (QUIC) — новейший протокол.
Поздравляем! Сайт не содержится в реестре РКН.
Кодировка
UTF-8
Кодировка символов страницы
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Стандарт — UTF-8. Неправильная кодировка вызывает нечитаемые символы и мешает поисковику корректно распознать текст страницы.
Указана кодировка на странице UTF-8.
Язык
en-US
Атрибут lang в HTML-теге
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Атрибут lang (<html lang="ru">) сообщает поисковикам и браузерам, на каком языке написана страница. Помогает при ранжировании в региональном поиске.
Язык документа указан явно: en-US.
Скорость загрузки
~0,22сек
Время отклика сервера (TTFB)
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Time To First Byte — время до получения первого байта от сервера. Норма до 200 мс. Медленный отклик ухудшает пользовательский опыт и ранжирование: Яндекс и Google учитывают скорость страниц.
Скорость загрузки сайта 0,22сек оптимальна.
Объем документа
289Кб
Размер HTML-кода страницы
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Слишком большой HTML замедляет парсинг браузером и сканирование поисковым роботом. Рекомендуется не более 200 Кб.
Объем html-документа 289Кб оптимален.
Структура html-документа корректна.
Ресурсы
Ресурсы: 40
Внешние ресурсы страницы (CSS, JS, изображения)
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Количество и тип подключённых ресурсов влияют на скорость загрузки. Большое число запросов увеличивает время рендеринга страницы.
Кол-во файлов ресурсов 40 много для одной страницы. Приемлемо до 10. Проведите оптимизацию файлов ресурсов!
Показать полный список ресурсов
| Тип | Название | Значение |
|---|---|---|
| stylesheet | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/plugins/mega-addons-for-visual-composer/css/ihover.css?ver=7.0.4 | |
| stylesheet | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/plugins/mega-addons-for-visual-composer/css/style.css?ver=7.0.4 | |
| stylesheet | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/plugins/mega-addons-for-visual-composer/css/font-awesome/css/all.css?ver=7.0.4 | |
| stylesheet | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/plugins/revslider/public/assets/css/settings.css?ver=5.4.8.3 | |
| stylesheet | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/plugins/ultimate-social-media-icons/css/sfsi-style.css?ver=3.0.0 | |
| stylesheet | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/plugins/ultimate-social-media-plus/css/sfsi-style.css?ver=3.7.3 | |
| stylesheet | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/plugins/wp-mailto-links/core/includes/assets/css/style.css?ver=230922-194610 | |
| stylesheet | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/themes/betheme/css/base.css?ver=21.2.5 | |
| stylesheet | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/themes/betheme/css/layout.css?ver=21.2.5 | |
| stylesheet | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/themes/betheme/css/shortcodes.css?ver=21.2.5 | |
| stylesheet | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/themes/betheme/assets/animations/animations.min.css?ver=21.2.5 | |
| stylesheet | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/themes/betheme/assets/ui/jquery.ui.all.css?ver=21.2.5 | |
| stylesheet | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/themes/betheme/assets/jplayer/css/jplayer.blue.monday.css?ver=21.2.5 | |
| stylesheet | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/themes/betheme/css/responsive.css?ver=21.2.5 | |
| stylesheet | https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Source+Sans+Pro:1,100,300,400,400italic,500,700&ver=7.0.4 | |
| stylesheet | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/themes/betheme-child/style.css?ver=21.2.5 | |
| stylesheet | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/plugins/wp-special-textboxes/css/stb-core.css?ver=6.5.1 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-includes/js/jquery/jquery.min.js?ver=3.7.1 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-includes/js/jquery/jquery-migrate.min.js?ver=3.4.1 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/plugins/revslider/public/assets/js/jquery.themepunch.tools.min.js?ver=5.4.8.3 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/plugins/revslider/public/assets/js/jquery.themepunch.revolution.min.js?ver=5.4.8.3 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/plugins/wp-mailto-links/core/includes/assets/js/custom.js?ver=230922-194610 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-includes/js/jquery/ui/core.min.js?ver=1.13.3 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/plugins/ultimate-social-media-icons/js/shuffle/modernizr.custom.min.js?ver=7.0.4 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/plugins/ultimate-social-media-icons/js/shuffle/jquery.shuffle.min.js?ver=7.0.4 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/plugins/ultimate-social-media-icons/js/shuffle/random-shuffle-min.js?ver=7.0.4 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/plugins/ultimate-social-media-icons/js/custom.js?ver=3.0.0 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/plugins/ultimate-social-media-plus/js/shuffle/modernizr.custom.min.js?ver=7.0.4 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/plugins/ultimate-social-media-plus/js/custom.js?ver=3.7.3 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-includes/js/jquery/ui/mouse.min.js?ver=1.13.3 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-includes/js/jquery/ui/sortable.min.js?ver=1.13.3 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-includes/js/jquery/ui/tabs.min.js?ver=1.13.3 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-includes/js/jquery/ui/accordion.min.js?ver=1.13.3 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/themes/betheme/js/plugins.js?ver=21.2.5 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/themes/betheme/js/menu.js?ver=21.2.5 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/themes/betheme/assets/animations/animations.min.js?ver=21.2.5 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/themes/betheme/assets/jplayer/jplayer.min.js?ver=21.2.5 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/themes/betheme/js/parallax/translate3d.js?ver=21.2.5 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/themes/betheme/js/scripts.js?ver=21.2.5 | |
| js | https://dougrichardson.com/wp-content/plugins/wp-special-textboxes/js/client.js?ver=6.5.1 |
Серверные заголовки
Кол-во: 13
HTTP-заголовки ответа сервера
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Заголовки сервера передают браузеру и поисковику служебную информацию: кеширование, безопасность (CSP, HSTS), сжатие (gzip). Правильная настройка ускоряет загрузку и повышает защищённость.
Найдены серверные заголовки 13шт. Подробнее про серверные заголовки.
Показать полный список серверных заголовков
| Ключ | Значение |
|---|---|
| Date | Fri, 21 Aug 2026 06:23:05 GMT |
| cf-ray | a2e78c0afc6a9dd3-DME |
| cf-cache-status | HIT |
| Cache-Control | public, max-age=2678400 |
| Set-Cookie | __cf_bm=Lt8YT67TJacWN1MyRofI6TnlQVh7AXfuZfrVt_qrkf0-1787293385.4394908-1.0.1.1-CPfNyNgEWnspJ1spQakRLdETIi5dsLuKh5opjDwQyEr9clyLh06UeKj0MkDKKy.FeYlM75_3nkpWU.rIp1Fe4wGmZmOBUwgffCw.ls7fgO0Haq4yE6d8D68sxBbIxfe1; HttpOnly; SameSite=None; Secure; Path=/; Domain=dougrichardson.com; Expires=Fri, 21 Aug 2026 06:53:05 GMT |
| Link | <https://dougrichardson.com/wp-json/>; rel="https://api.w.org/" |
| Server | cloudflare |
| Vary | Accept-Encoding |
| x-gateway-cache-key | 1787233747.215|standard|https|dougrichardson.com|||/blog/ |
| x-gateway-cache-status | MISS |
| x-gateway-request-id | ad4b6c1b124dfc9d17644551cb010643 |
| x-gateway-skip-cache | 0 |
| Alt-Svc | h3=":443" |
CMS
WordPress
Система управления сайтом (движок)
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CMS — это движок, на котором работает сайт (WordPress, 1C-Bitrix, Tilda и др.). Знание CMS помогает понять возможности SEO-оптимизации и подобрать подходящие инструменты. «Не определена» — вероятно, самописный сайт или нестандартная сборка.
Сайт работает на CMS WordPress.
Веб-сервер
Cloudflare
Программное обеспечение сервера
?
Веб-сервер — это ПО, которое отдаёт страницы посетителям (nginx, Apache, IIS, LiteSpeed и др.). Определяется по серверным заголовкам ответа (Server, X-Powered-By и т.п.). «Не определён» — сервер намеренно скрывает эти заголовки, это нормальная практика безопасности.
Сайт работает на веб-сервере Cloudflare.
Мета-теги Готовность: 43%
Title
blog – Doug Richardson: Author, Screenwriter
Заголовок страницы в браузере и поисковой выдаче
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Title — главный SEO-заголовок страницы. Влияет на CTR в поиске и ранжирование. Оптимальная длина: 50–70 символов. Ключевые слова — ближе к началу.
Необходимо уменьшить число символов в title (текущее значение: 50, оптимально: от 40 до 45)
Дублей словоформ в title не найдено.
Description
BeCongress | Best WordPress theme for meetings and congresses
Описание страницы в поисковой выдаче (сниппет)
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Meta Description — текст под заголовком в выдаче. Напрямую на позиции не влияет, но влияет на CTR. Оптимальная длина: 120–160 символов.
Необходимо увеличить число символов в description (текущее значение мало: 61, минимум: 80, оптимально: от 120 до 130)
Keywords
Список ключевых слов страницы (устаревший тег)
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Meta Keywords не учитывается Яндексом и Google для ранжирования с 2009–2012 годов. Заполнение не обязательно, но не вредит. Конкурент может использовать содержимое для анализа.
Установите мета-тег keywords!
Канонический Url
Указывает поисковику основную версию страницы
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Canonical (rel=canonical) предотвращает проблему дублей страниц. Должен точно совпадать с URL проверяемой страницы. Неправильный canonical может передать ссылочный вес на другую страницу.
Рекомендуем прописать канонический Url.
Robots
Есть ошибки
Директивы для поисковых роботов на уровне страницы
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Meta Robots управляет индексацией конкретной страницы: index/noindex — индексировать ли, follow/nofollow — следовать ли по ссылкам. Noindex полностью исключает страницу из поиска.
Meta-тег robots указан, но в нем содержится неизвестное значение...
Адаптивность
width=device-width, initial-scale=1
Настройка масштабирования на мобильных устройствах
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Тег viewport (<meta name="viewport">) сообщает браузеру, как масштабировать страницу на мобильных. Стандарт: width=device-width, initial-scale=1. Отсутствие — признак отсутствия мобильной версии.
Meta-тег viewport со значением-константой width=device-width задаёт ширину страницы в соответствии с размером экрана.
Meta-тег viewport со значением initial-scale=1.0 определяет масштаб 1:1, т.е. «не масштабировать».
Разметка OpenGraph
Кол-во: 14
Мета-теги для красивых превью в соцсетях
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OpenGraph (og:title, og:description, og:image) управляет тем, как страница выглядит при репосте в социальных сетях и мессенджерах. Отсутствие OG-тегов — невзрачный превью при шеринге.
Разметка OpenGraph задана. Страница оптимизирована под социальные сети.
Показать полный список og мета-тегов
| Тип | Значение |
|---|---|
| og:image | /wp-content/uploads/2016/12/ivan-bertona-407605-unsplash.jpg |
| og:image:type | image/jpeg |
| og:image:width | 3091 |
| og:image:height | 2048 |
| og:url | https://dougrichardson.com/blog/the-crime-writer-in-a-bubble/ |
| og:description | “Holy shit,” I muttered, a little too loud for my NYPD minder, who held an index finger up to the stubble surrounding his mouth. To that I added this whisper: “Tell me it doesn’t always happen that easy.” “It does. Every time,” he replied. “Like fish in a barrel. Drop a hook and crime just happens.” He feigned the snap of his finger. Before I continue, first this admission of guilt. I live in my own little crime-free bubble. And perhaps you do too. I rise, I work, I commute, I socialize, I eat, I sleep, I repeat. All within my bubble. I’m careful. I try to be aware. Lock the door, set the alarm, check the security cameras when the heebie-jeebies come, and resume my view from inside the bubble. I live my life on the right side of the law and trust that the landscape in which I roam will, percentage-wise, keep me safe from harm. At least so far. Then there’s this. Because of my job, I not only intellectually bathe in the dark side of man’s conscience but play at it as a professional fictionalisto. Don’t look up fictionalisto. It’s not a word. I made it up, not unlike so many other things about which I write about. Only what I write about is all based on an ugly reality: that no matter how thick we make our protective bubble, we’re still only a knife’s thrust away from man’s nether-side. The crime side. From the petty to the heinous, we live amongst it and share oxygen with it. Okay. So how about I get back to it? The setting is New York City. I’m in the subway system during morning rush hour. Grand Central Station. Manhattan’s second busiest junction of underground platforms. Once again, I was researching a movie and was embedded for a couple of days with a detectives’ unit within the PD’s transit cops. The day’s assignment? Crime suppression; otherwise called let’s-show-the-showbiz-hotshot-how-truly-dangerous-NYC-can-really-be. It was a five-man squad plus yours truly. All plain clothes and one not-so plain-clothed detective dressed to impress a certain class of criminal. He was jokingly referred to as “Mr. Bait.” A little grease and muss to his hair and the adornments of an expensive watch, pendant, and gold bracelet – all fake but so very real to the eye – and Mr. Bait was ready for his assault. We entered the tunnels, jumped turnstiles like a bunch of miscreants, and generally acted like semi-drunken louts after an all-night party. In other words, in the rush of morning commuting, we were pretty much little more than set dressing, eventually slipping behind a thin phalanx of plywood construction barriers. Well, all of us but for Mr. Bait. His job was to slowly stumble through the pedestrian tunnel in a pretend stupor. Bent. Woozy. Barely standing. This while the rest of us waited patiently until somebody waltzed in, clocked Bait as molest-able, and robbed him in plain view of all those other bustling commuters. “How long does this usually take?” I asked, wondering just how many hours I’d have my right eye stuck to a dime-sized peephole in the poster-plastered-plywood. The nearest detective needn’t have to answer. Within seconds, another detective whispered, “fish on” into his radio. Sure enough, I spotted a hooded young male who, after hustling past Bait, had slowed himself twenty feet beyond Mr. Bait, stopped and begun to scope the crowds of city-goers hoofing past our addled lure who was brilliantly pretending to use the wall tile to keep himself upright. How fast? you ask. From the time we’d set up behind the construction to when the young predator had begun his stalk of Mr. Bait was no less than two minutes. Yeah. I said: Two. Minutes. After a further three or so minutes into his stalk on poor Mr. Bait, the predator finally moved in, feigning to be a friend of Mr. Bait’s, easing him to the floor, crouching ever nearer, and one item at a time, removing everything of perceived value from Mr. Bait’s possession and pocketing it as his own. A petty mugging, you might think. Without violence. As crime goes, pretty damned polite, I’d reckon. Once Mr. Bait was fully relieved of his property, the detectives moved in. The arrest was efficient. A simple frisk returned Bait’s stolen items along with a pig-sticker of a folding knife. After escorting the hoodie to the nearest precinct for processing, we were back at the job. Different crowded pedestrian tunnel, different plywood façade with peepholes enough for a few of our eyeballs. And yes. Minutes again. Mr. Bait was accosted, robbed, and manhandled by a pair of male snatch and grab artists. Minutes. And to prove their point that this was no anomaly, the same act was repeated through the long shift. Mr. Bait played the mark in a drugged funk. And within not more than a few heartbeats, there always appeared bad boys to mug him. It left me breathless. Never in my life had I witnessed such predatory human behavior, with the last sting resulting in two potential assailants — competitors for the prize, working to outmaneuver each other and be first to Mr. Bait without arousing the suspicions of any of the pedestrians providing the constant flow of normalcy. At shift’s end, when booking for each suspect was concluded, all but one of those young men had a violent arrest record. Assaults. Armed robberies. Proof that crime, from their perspective, still paid and were Mr. Bait to have put up any reasonable fight, he might’ve gotten himself seriously injured or worse. What’s the difference between LA and New York? Instead of walking by or amongst the criminal element, we’re driving alongside or by it. Oblivious. Still in our little bubble of human denial. But no matter how we rationalize it away, it’s still there. A constant. Not just beyond the bubble, but perhaps even closer, right under the surface of our collective skins. |
| og:title | The Crime Writer in a Bubble. |
| og:image | /wp-content/uploads/2016/12/ivan-bertona-407605-unsplash.jpg |
| og:image:type | image/jpeg |
| og:image:width | 3091 |
| og:image:height | 2048 |
| og:description | “Holy shit,” I muttered, a little too loud for my NYPD minder, who held an index finger up to the stubble surrounding his mouth. To that I added this whisper: “Tell me it doesn’t always happen that easy.” “It does. Every time,” he replied. “Like fish in a barrel. Drop a hook and crime just happens.” He feigned the snap of his finger. Before I continue, first this admission of guilt. I live in my own little crime-free bubble. And perhaps you do too. I rise, I work, I commute, I socialize, I eat, I sleep, I repeat. All within my bubble. I’m careful. I try to be aware. Lock the door, set the alarm, check the security cameras when the heebie-jeebies come, and resume my view from inside the bubble. I live my life on the right side of the law and trust that the landscape in which I roam will, percentage-wise, keep me safe from harm. At least so far. Then there’s this. Because of my job, I not only intellectually bathe in the dark side of man’s conscience but play at it as a professional fictionalisto. Don’t look up fictionalisto. It’s not a word. I made it up, not unlike so many other things about which I write about. Only what I write about is all based on an ugly reality: that no matter how thick we make our protective bubble, we’re still only a knife’s thrust away from man’s nether-side. The crime side. From the petty to the heinous, we live amongst it and share oxygen with it. Okay. So how about I get back to it? The setting is New York City. I’m in the subway system during morning rush hour. Grand Central Station. Manhattan’s second busiest junction of underground platforms. Once again, I was researching a movie and was embedded for a couple of days with a detectives’ unit within the PD’s transit cops. The day’s assignment? Crime suppression; otherwise called let’s-show-the-showbiz-hotshot-how-truly-dangerous-NYC-can-really-be. It was a five-man squad plus yours truly. All plain clothes and one not-so plain-clothed detective dressed to impress a certain class of criminal. He was jokingly referred to as “Mr. Bait.” A little grease and muss to his hair and the adornments of an expensive watch, pendant, and gold bracelet – all fake but so very real to the eye – and Mr. Bait was ready for his assault. We entered the tunnels, jumped turnstiles like a bunch of miscreants, and generally acted like semi-drunken louts after an all-night party. In other words, in the rush of morning commuting, we were pretty much little more than set dressing, eventually slipping behind a thin phalanx of plywood construction barriers. Well, all of us but for Mr. Bait. His job was to slowly stumble through the pedestrian tunnel in a pretend stupor. Bent. Woozy. Barely standing. This while the rest of us waited patiently until somebody waltzed in, clocked Bait as molest-able, and robbed him in plain view of all those other bustling commuters. “How long does this usually take?” I asked, wondering just how many hours I’d have my right eye stuck to a dime-sized peephole in the poster-plastered-plywood. The nearest detective needn’t have to answer. Within seconds, another detective whispered, “fish on” into his radio. Sure enough, I spotted a hooded young male who, after hustling past Bait, had slowed himself twenty feet beyond Mr. Bait, stopped and begun to scope the crowds of city-goers hoofing past our addled lure who was brilliantly pretending to use the wall tile to keep himself upright. How fast? you ask. From the time we’d set up behind the construction to when the young predator had begun his stalk of Mr. Bait was no less than two minutes. Yeah. I said: Two. Minutes. After a further three or so minutes into his stalk on poor Mr. Bait, the predator finally moved in, feigning to be a friend of Mr. Bait’s, easing him to the floor, crouching ever nearer, and one item at a time, removing everything of perceived value from Mr. Bait’s possession and pocketing it as his own. A petty mugging, you might think. Without violence. As crime goes, pretty damned polite, I’d reckon. Once Mr. Bait was fully relieved of his property, the detectives moved in. The arrest was efficient. A simple frisk returned Bait’s stolen items along with a pig-sticker of a folding knife. After escorting the hoodie to the nearest precinct for processing, we were back at the job. Different crowded pedestrian tunnel, different plywood façade with peepholes enough for a few of our eyeballs. And yes. Minutes again. Mr. Bait was accosted, robbed, and manhandled by a pair of male snatch and grab artists. Minutes. And to prove their point that this was no anomaly, the same act was repeated through the long shift. Mr. Bait played the mark in a drugged funk. And within not more than a few heartbeats, there always appeared bad boys to mug him. It left me breathless. Never in my life had I witnessed such predatory human behavior, with the last sting resulting in two potential assailants — competitors for the prize, working to outmaneuver each other and be first to Mr. Bait without arousing the suspicions of any of the pedestrians providing the constant flow of normalcy. At shift’s end, when booking for each suspect was concluded, all but one of those young men had a violent arrest record. Assaults. Armed robberies. Proof that crime, from their perspective, still paid and were Mr. Bait to have put up any reasonable fight, he might’ve gotten himself seriously injured or worse. What’s the difference between LA and New York? Instead of walking by or amongst the criminal element, we’re driving alongside or by it. Oblivious. Still in our little bubble of human denial. But no matter how we rationalize it away, it’s still there. A constant. Not just beyond the bubble, but perhaps even closer, right under the surface of our collective skins. |
| og:url | https://dougrichardson.com/blog/the-crime-writer-in-a-bubble/ |
| og:title | The Crime Writer in a Bubble. |
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| Тип | Название | Значение |
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| name | description | BeCongress | Best WordPress theme for meetings and congresses |
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| name | format-detection | telephone=no |
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| property | og:url | https://dougrichardson.com/blog/the-crime-writer-in-a-bubble/ |
| property | og:description | “Holy shit,” I muttered, a little too loud for my NYPD minder, who held an index finger up to the stubble surrounding his mouth. To that I added this whisper: “Tell me it doesn’t always happen that easy.” “It does. Every time,” he replied. “Like fish in a barrel. Drop a hook and crime just happens.” He feigned the snap of his finger. Before I continue, first this admission of guilt. I live in my own little crime-free bubble. And perhaps you do too. I rise, I work, I commute, I socialize, I eat, I sleep, I repeat. All within my bubble. I’m careful. I try to be aware. Lock the door, set the alarm, check the security cameras when the heebie-jeebies come, and resume my view from inside the bubble. I live my life on the right side of the law and trust that the landscape in which I roam will, percentage-wise, keep me safe from harm. At least so far. Then there’s this. Because of my job, I not only intellectually bathe in the dark side of man’s conscience but play at it as a professional fictionalisto. Don’t look up fictionalisto. It’s not a word. I made it up, not unlike so many other things about which I write about. Only what I write about is all based on an ugly reality: that no matter how thick we make our protective bubble, we’re still only a knife’s thrust away from man’s nether-side. The crime side. From the petty to the heinous, we live amongst it and share oxygen with it. Okay. So how about I get back to it? The setting is New York City. I’m in the subway system during morning rush hour. Grand Central Station. Manhattan’s second busiest junction of underground platforms. Once again, I was researching a movie and was embedded for a couple of days with a detectives’ unit within the PD’s transit cops. The day’s assignment? Crime suppression; otherwise called let’s-show-the-showbiz-hotshot-how-truly-dangerous-NYC-can-really-be. It was a five-man squad plus yours truly. All plain clothes and one not-so plain-clothed detective dressed to impress a certain class of criminal. He was jokingly referred to as “Mr. Bait.” A little grease and muss to his hair and the adornments of an expensive watch, pendant, and gold bracelet – all fake but so very real to the eye – and Mr. Bait was ready for his assault. We entered the tunnels, jumped turnstiles like a bunch of miscreants, and generally acted like semi-drunken louts after an all-night party. In other words, in the rush of morning commuting, we were pretty much little more than set dressing, eventually slipping behind a thin phalanx of plywood construction barriers. Well, all of us but for Mr. Bait. His job was to slowly stumble through the pedestrian tunnel in a pretend stupor. Bent. Woozy. Barely standing. This while the rest of us waited patiently until somebody waltzed in, clocked Bait as molest-able, and robbed him in plain view of all those other bustling commuters. “How long does this usually take?” I asked, wondering just how many hours I’d have my right eye stuck to a dime-sized peephole in the poster-plastered-plywood. The nearest detective needn’t have to answer. Within seconds, another detective whispered, “fish on” into his radio. Sure enough, I spotted a hooded young male who, after hustling past Bait, had slowed himself twenty feet beyond Mr. Bait, stopped and begun to scope the crowds of city-goers hoofing past our addled lure who was brilliantly pretending to use the wall tile to keep himself upright. How fast? you ask. From the time we’d set up behind the construction to when the young predator had begun his stalk of Mr. Bait was no less than two minutes. Yeah. I said: Two. Minutes. After a further three or so minutes into his stalk on poor Mr. Bait, the predator finally moved in, feigning to be a friend of Mr. Bait’s, easing him to the floor, crouching ever nearer, and one item at a time, removing everything of perceived value from Mr. Bait’s possession and pocketing it as his own. A petty mugging, you might think. Without violence. As crime goes, pretty damned polite, I’d reckon. Once Mr. Bait was fully relieved of his property, the detectives moved in. The arrest was efficient. A simple frisk returned Bait’s stolen items along with a pig-sticker of a folding knife. After escorting the hoodie to the nearest precinct for processing, we were back at the job. Different crowded pedestrian tunnel, different plywood façade with peepholes enough for a few of our eyeballs. And yes. Minutes again. Mr. Bait was accosted, robbed, and manhandled by a pair of male snatch and grab artists. Minutes. And to prove their point that this was no anomaly, the same act was repeated through the long shift. Mr. Bait played the mark in a drugged funk. And within not more than a few heartbeats, there always appeared bad boys to mug him. It left me breathless. Never in my life had I witnessed such predatory human behavior, with the last sting resulting in two potential assailants — competitors for the prize, working to outmaneuver each other and be first to Mr. Bait without arousing the suspicions of any of the pedestrians providing the constant flow of normalcy. At shift’s end, when booking for each suspect was concluded, all but one of those young men had a violent arrest record. Assaults. Armed robberies. Proof that crime, from their perspective, still paid and were Mr. Bait to have put up any reasonable fight, he might’ve gotten himself seriously injured or worse. What’s the difference between LA and New York? Instead of walking by or amongst the criminal element, we’re driving alongside or by it. Oblivious. Still in our little bubble of human denial. But no matter how we rationalize it away, it’s still there. A constant. Not just beyond the bubble, but perhaps even closer, right under the surface of our collective skins. |
| property | og:title | The Crime Writer in a Bubble. |
| property | og:image | /wp-content/uploads/2016/12/ivan-bertona-407605-unsplash.jpg |
| property | twitter:card | summary_large_image |
| property | twitter:image | /wp-content/uploads/2016/12/ivan-bertona-407605-unsplash.jpg |
| property | og:image:type | image/jpeg |
| property | og:image:width | 3091 |
| property | og:image:height | 2048 |
| property | og:description | “Holy shit,” I muttered, a little too loud for my NYPD minder, who held an index finger up to the stubble surrounding his mouth. To that I added this whisper: “Tell me it doesn’t always happen that easy.” “It does. Every time,” he replied. “Like fish in a barrel. Drop a hook and crime just happens.” He feigned the snap of his finger. Before I continue, first this admission of guilt. I live in my own little crime-free bubble. And perhaps you do too. I rise, I work, I commute, I socialize, I eat, I sleep, I repeat. All within my bubble. I’m careful. I try to be aware. Lock the door, set the alarm, check the security cameras when the heebie-jeebies come, and resume my view from inside the bubble. I live my life on the right side of the law and trust that the landscape in which I roam will, percentage-wise, keep me safe from harm. At least so far. Then there’s this. Because of my job, I not only intellectually bathe in the dark side of man’s conscience but play at it as a professional fictionalisto. Don’t look up fictionalisto. It’s not a word. I made it up, not unlike so many other things about which I write about. Only what I write about is all based on an ugly reality: that no matter how thick we make our protective bubble, we’re still only a knife’s thrust away from man’s nether-side. The crime side. From the petty to the heinous, we live amongst it and share oxygen with it. Okay. So how about I get back to it? The setting is New York City. I’m in the subway system during morning rush hour. Grand Central Station. Manhattan’s second busiest junction of underground platforms. Once again, I was researching a movie and was embedded for a couple of days with a detectives’ unit within the PD’s transit cops. The day’s assignment? Crime suppression; otherwise called let’s-show-the-showbiz-hotshot-how-truly-dangerous-NYC-can-really-be. It was a five-man squad plus yours truly. All plain clothes and one not-so plain-clothed detective dressed to impress a certain class of criminal. He was jokingly referred to as “Mr. Bait.” A little grease and muss to his hair and the adornments of an expensive watch, pendant, and gold bracelet – all fake but so very real to the eye – and Mr. Bait was ready for his assault. We entered the tunnels, jumped turnstiles like a bunch of miscreants, and generally acted like semi-drunken louts after an all-night party. In other words, in the rush of morning commuting, we were pretty much little more than set dressing, eventually slipping behind a thin phalanx of plywood construction barriers. Well, all of us but for Mr. Bait. His job was to slowly stumble through the pedestrian tunnel in a pretend stupor. Bent. Woozy. Barely standing. This while the rest of us waited patiently until somebody waltzed in, clocked Bait as molest-able, and robbed him in plain view of all those other bustling commuters. “How long does this usually take?” I asked, wondering just how many hours I’d have my right eye stuck to a dime-sized peephole in the poster-plastered-plywood. The nearest detective needn’t have to answer. Within seconds, another detective whispered, “fish on” into his radio. Sure enough, I spotted a hooded young male who, after hustling past Bait, had slowed himself twenty feet beyond Mr. Bait, stopped and begun to scope the crowds of city-goers hoofing past our addled lure who was brilliantly pretending to use the wall tile to keep himself upright. How fast? you ask. From the time we’d set up behind the construction to when the young predator had begun his stalk of Mr. Bait was no less than two minutes. Yeah. I said: Two. Minutes. After a further three or so minutes into his stalk on poor Mr. Bait, the predator finally moved in, feigning to be a friend of Mr. Bait’s, easing him to the floor, crouching ever nearer, and one item at a time, removing everything of perceived value from Mr. Bait’s possession and pocketing it as his own. A petty mugging, you might think. Without violence. As crime goes, pretty damned polite, I’d reckon. Once Mr. Bait was fully relieved of his property, the detectives moved in. The arrest was efficient. A simple frisk returned Bait’s stolen items along with a pig-sticker of a folding knife. After escorting the hoodie to the nearest precinct for processing, we were back at the job. Different crowded pedestrian tunnel, different plywood façade with peepholes enough for a few of our eyeballs. And yes. Minutes again. Mr. Bait was accosted, robbed, and manhandled by a pair of male snatch and grab artists. Minutes. And to prove their point that this was no anomaly, the same act was repeated through the long shift. Mr. Bait played the mark in a drugged funk. And within not more than a few heartbeats, there always appeared bad boys to mug him. It left me breathless. Never in my life had I witnessed such predatory human behavior, with the last sting resulting in two potential assailants — competitors for the prize, working to outmaneuver each other and be first to Mr. Bait without arousing the suspicions of any of the pedestrians providing the constant flow of normalcy. At shift’s end, when booking for each suspect was concluded, all but one of those young men had a violent arrest record. Assaults. Armed robberies. Proof that crime, from their perspective, still paid and were Mr. Bait to have put up any reasonable fight, he might’ve gotten himself seriously injured or worse. What’s the difference between LA and New York? Instead of walking by or amongst the criminal element, we’re driving alongside or by it. Oblivious. Still in our little bubble of human denial. But no matter how we rationalize it away, it’s still there. A constant. Not just beyond the bubble, but perhaps even closer, right under the surface of our collective skins. |
| property | og:url | https://dougrichardson.com/blog/the-crime-writer-in-a-bubble/ |
| property | og:title | The Crime Writer in a Bubble. |
Оптимизация Готовность: 57%
Структура
Ошибок нет
Семантические HTML-элементы страницы
?
Проверяет наличие основных структурных элементов: nav, header, footer, main. Корректная семантическая структура помогает поисковику понять архитектуру страницы.
Структура документа корректна (теги <html> и <body> присутствуют по одному на документ).
Контент
Есть ошибки
Объём и качество текстового содержимого
?
Анализирует объём полезного текста на странице. Слишком мало — страница может считаться малополезной. Слишком много — ухудшается читаемость и восприятие.
Слова из title 2 встречаются в тексте редко. Добавьте в контент страницы слова из тега <title>!
Среднее число слов в абзаце 4 слишком мало. Сделайте контент более читаемым!
Абзацев с текстом 11 достаточно.
Кол-во знаков контента 10953 на странице оптимально.
Кол-во слов 2016 на странице оптимально.
Заголовки
Ошибок нет
Иерархия заголовков H1–H6
?
H1 должен быть один и содержать ключевой запрос. H2–H6 описывают подразделы. Пропуск уровней (H1 → H3) и несколько H1 — типичные ошибки, снижающие понятность страницы для поисковика.
На странице присутствуют заголовки <h2> 48. Это хорошо.
На странице присутствуют заголовки <h3> 2.
Тошнота
2,65
Насколько одно слово доминирует в тексте
?
Классическая тошнота = √(частота самого повторяющегося слова). Норма до 7–8: текст воспринимается естественно. Выше — поисковик может счесть страницу переспамленной.
Тошнота страницы в пределах нормы 3.
Академич. тошнота
12,40%
Насколько текст перенасыщен ключевыми словами
?
Академическая тошнота = (частота слова / общее количество слов) × 100%. Показывает долю конкретного слова в тексте. Норма 5–15%.
Академическая тошнота страницы в пределах нормы.
Семантическое ядро
20
Наиболее часто встречающиеся слова на странице
?
Топ слов по частоте использования. Показывает, какие слова доминируют в тексте с точки зрения поисковика.
Контент страницы содержит осмысленный текст и слова.
Показать список слов
| Слово | Кол-во | Частота |
|---|---|---|
| august | 7 | 0,35% |
| january | 5 | 0,25% |
| september | 5 | 0,25% |
| percent | 4 | 0,20% |
| december | 4 | 0,20% |
| november | 4 | 0,20% |
| christophe | 4 | 0,20% |
| rocancourt | 4 | 0,20% |
| producer | 4 | 0,20% |
| october | 4 | 0,20% |
| reaper | 3 | 0,15% |
| movies | 3 | 0,15% |
| writer | 3 | 0,15% |
| thought | 3 | 0,15% |
| friend | 3 | 0,15% |
| dialogue | 3 | 0,15% |
| french | 3 | 0,15% |
| february | 3 | 0,15% |
| happens | 3 | 0,15% |
| actresses | 3 | 0,15% |
Индексация Готовность: 20%
Индексирование
Есть ошибки
Разрешено ли индексирование страницы
?
Проверяет, не закрыта ли страница от индексации через robots.txt, meta robots или X-Robots-Tag. Страница, закрытая от индексации, не появится в поисковой выдаче.
Анкоров на странице 287 слишком много. Проведите ревизию и оптимизацию ссылок сайта.
Robots.txt
Найден корректный robots.txt
Файл управления сканированием сайта роботами
?
Robots.txt указывает поисковым роботам, какие страницы сканировать, а какие — нет. Ошибки в файле могут случайно закрыть важные разделы от индексации.
Robots.txt настроен корректно. Размер файла: 24 байт. Загружен за: 72мсек.
Проверяемая страница не запрещена в robots.txt.
Robots.txt доступен по постоянному адресу
Показать содержимое robots.txt
User-Agent: *
Disallow:
Sitemap
Кол-во: 0
XML-карта сайта для поисковиков
?
Sitemap.xml помогает поисковику быстрее находить и индексировать страницы. Особенно важен для крупных сайтов и новых страниц, на которые ещё нет входящих ссылок.
Robots.txt не содержит ссылку на карту сайта. Рекомендуется добавить карту сайта и указать ссылку на нее в robots.txt.
Внутренние ссылки
Кол-во: 232
Ссылки на другие страницы своего сайта
?
Внутренние ссылки распределяют ссылочный вес между страницами и помогают поисковику обходить сайт. Пустые анкоры и ссылки на запрещённые robots.txt страницы — типичные ошибки.
Внутренних ссылок на странице 232 слишком много. Проведите оптимизацию сайта!
Внутренние ссылки не запрещены к индексации в robots.txt.
На странице присутствуют изображения 49.
Показать первые 100 внутренних ссылок
| Url | Анкор | Состояние |
|---|---|---|
| / |
<span>HOME</span>
|
|
| /books/ |
<span>BOOKS</span>
|
|
| /lucky-dey/ |
<span>LUCKY DEY</span>
|
|
| /blood-money/ |
<span>BLOOD MONEY</span>
|
|
| /99-percent-kill/ |
<span>99 PERCENT KILL</span>
|
|
| /reaper/ |
<span>REAPER</span>
|
|
| /american-bang/ |
<span>AMERICAN BANG</span>
|
|
| /the-night-is-never-black/ |
<span>THE NIGHT IS NEVER BLACK</span>
|
|
| /hip-slick-and-dead/ |
<span>HIP SLICK AND DEAD</span>
|
|
| /stand-alones/ |
<span>STAND-ALONES</span>
|
|
| /dark-horse/ |
<span>DARK HORSE</span>
|
|
| /true-believers/ |
<span>TRUE BELIEVERS</span>
|
|
| /the-safety-expert/ |
<span>THE SAFETY EXPERT</span>
|
|
| /nonfiction/ |
<span>NONFICTION</span>
|
|
| /the-smoking-gun/ |
<span>THE SMOKING GUN</span>
|
|
| /audiobooks/ |
<span>AUDIOBOOKS</span>
|
|
| /movies/ |
<span>MOVIES</span>
|
|
| /about/ |
<span>ABOUT</span>
|
|
| /faqs/ |
<span>FAQs</span>
|
|
| /blog/ |
<span>BLOG</span>
|
|
| /contact/ |
<span>CONTACT</span>
|
|
| /wp-content/uploads/2016/12/ivan-bertona-407605-unsplash-600x398.jpg |
<i class="icon-search"></i>
|
|
| /blog/the-crime-writer-in-a-bubble/ |
<i class="icon-link"></i>
|
|
| /blog/the-crime-writer-in-a-bubble/ |
The Crime Writer in a Bubble.
|
|
| /blog/the-crime-writer-in-a-bubble/ |
Read more
|
|
| /wp-content/uploads/2016/11/daniil-vnoutchkov-397251-unsplash-600x450.jpg |
<i class="icon-search"></i>
|
|
| /blog/my-view-to-a-kill/ |
<i class="icon-link"></i>
|
|
| /blog/my-view-to-a-kill/ |
My View to a Kill.
|
|
| /blog/my-view-to-a-kill/ |
Read more
|
|
| /wp-content/uploads/2016/08/BookArt-404x600.jpg |
<i class="icon-search"></i>
|
|
| /blog/the-smoking-gun/hollywood-ending/ |
<i class="icon-link"></i>
|
|
| /blog/the-smoking-gun/hollywood-ending/ |
The Hollywood Ending.
|
|
| /blog/the-smoking-gun/hollywood-ending/ |
Read more
|
|
| /wp-content/uploads/2016/08/rob-potter-485470-unsplash-e1526935345986-600x382.jpg |
<i class="icon-search"></i>
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/the-slump/ |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/the-slump/ |
The Slump.
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/the-slump/ |
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| /wp-content/uploads/2016/08/roman-mager-59976-unsplash-600x450.jpg |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/shorthanded/ |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/shorthanded/ |
Reductive Reasoning.
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/shorthanded/ |
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| /wp-content/uploads/2016/06/spenser-194645-unsplash-600x391.jpg |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/dont-fear-reaper/ |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/dont-fear-reaper/ |
Don’t Fear the Reaper.
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/dont-fear-reaper/ |
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| /wp-content/uploads/2016/06/ankush-minda-545239-unsplash-600x400.jpg |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/eat-your-children/ |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/eat-your-children/ |
Eat Your Children.
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/eat-your-children/ |
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| /wp-content/uploads/2016/06/mark-asthoff-20098-unsplash-600x400.jpg |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/how-do-you-write-an-action-scene/ |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/how-do-you-write-an-action-scene/ |
Action Speaks.
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/how-do-you-write-an-action-scene/ |
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| /wp-content/uploads/2016/05/joanna-kosinska-346609-unsplash-600x401.jpg |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/women-writers-in-hollywood/ |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/women-writers-in-hollywood/ |
Is that a Script in Your Pocket?
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/women-writers-in-hollywood/ |
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| /wp-content/uploads/2016/05/corentin-marzin-87042-unsplash-600x450.jpg |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/do-you-know-who-i-am/ |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/do-you-know-who-i-am/ |
Do You Know Who I Am?
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/do-you-know-who-i-am/ |
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| /wp-content/uploads/2016/05/sandro-katalina-457230-unsplash-600x365.jpg |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/prince-and-me/ |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/prince-and-me/ |
Prince and Me.
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/prince-and-me/ |
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| /wp-content/uploads/2016/05/kristina-flour-185592-unsplash-600x384.jpg |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/baaad-dialogue/ |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/baaad-dialogue/ |
Baaad Dialogue.
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/baaad-dialogue/ |
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| /wp-content/uploads/2016/04/lucas-favre-489526-unsplash-600x338.jpg |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/its-my-pity-party/ |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/its-my-pity-party/ |
It’s My Pity Party.
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/its-my-pity-party/ |
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| /wp-content/uploads/2016/03/felipe-dolce-52021-unsplash-600x399.jpg |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/con-job-part-1/ |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/con-job-part-1/ |
Con Job, Part 1.
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/con-job-part-1/ |
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| /wp-content/uploads/2016/03/larry-costales-642842-unsplash-600x400.jpg |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/con-job-part-2/ |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/con-job-part-2/ |
Con Job, Part 2.
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/con-job-part-2/ |
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| /wp-content/uploads/2016/04/darren-coleshill-178479-unsplash-600x450.jpg |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/con-job-part-3/ |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/con-job-part-3/ |
Con Job, Part 3.
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/con-job-part-3/ |
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| /wp-content/uploads/2016/04/john-paul-joseph-henry-245902-unsplash-600x337.jpg |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/florent-christophe-and-doug/ |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/florent-christophe-and-doug/ |
Con Job, Part 4.
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/florent-christophe-and-doug/ |
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| /wp-content/uploads/2016/04/didier-weemaels-36055-unsplash-600x503.jpg |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/con-job-part-5/ |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/con-job-part-5/ |
Con Job, Part 5.
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/con-job-part-5/ |
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| /wp-content/uploads/2016/03/sebastiaan-stam-581211-unsplash-600x400.jpg |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/villains/ |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/villains/ |
Sympathy for the Devil.
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/villains/ |
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| /wp-content/uploads/2016/03/sasha-stories-250032-unsplash-600x399.jpg |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/location-is-everything/ |
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| /blog/the-smoking-gun/location-is-everything/ |
Location is Everything.
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Внешние ссылки
Кол-во: 3
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Исходящие внешние ссылки передают часть ссылочного веса на чужие сайты. Ссылки на авторитетные ресурсы безопасны; ссылки на мусорные сайты могут навредить репутации страницы.
Внешних ссылок на странице 3 оптимально.
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| Url | Анкор |
|---|---|
| facebook.com |
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| twitter.com |
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| instagram.com |
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