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We're talking about corporate Web sites, those strange and bizarre creatures that 
are meant to prove how a company or brand has plugged itself into the information 
age. Mostly though, they just show how cheesy corporate America is.
 
Speaking of cheese, we've divided this feature into three parts for easy digestion.
 
First up is assistant editor Gloria Mitchell's fascinating look at the Fertnel empire 
and the company's fabled CEO Jon Armstrong. What, you've never heard of Fertnel? 
For the uninformed, Fertnel is the company responsible for some of the finest snack 
cheeze and snack cheeze byproducts on the market, including Glow Cheeze, Spray 
Cheeze, Meat Nickels and Blue-Cheeze-a-Pet, and was one of the first companies 
to hawk its wares on the Net. 
 
Next, you'll find managing editor Alex Gordon and features 
editor Sarah Ellerman's exhaustive report on the very worst of 
corporate Web sites. Ignoring any sites they thought might have intrinsic value (sites 
for cars, medicine, etc.), Gordon and Ellerman focused on URLs that had been 
publicized, figuring if corporate honchos were enticing consumers to visit their virtual 
homes, those sites were fit fodder for flagellation. And after visiting every corporate 
site on the Web (OK, maybe they missed a few), what they found wasn't pretty: 
broken links, misspellings, stale pages and yes, the Great Mayo Blaster (talk about 
cheesy).
 
Scattered amongst the cheese, our intrepid duo also found a few sites that were 
actually decent. Yes, somewhere, somehow, some corporate honchos got it right; 
congratulations. A report on those sites makes up the third part of this feature.
 
But enough foreshadowing. Let's get on with the feature. It's time to show you the 
cheese. 
 
 
 
 
And perhaps, somewhere deep in the psyche of site creator Jon Armstrong, it 
does. Armstrong started the fictional company in 1984, writing up company news 
on a Macintosh and illustrating it using MacPaint.
 
"I sent it to a substantial number of, you know, like, three people," he says, 
referring to the friends who received occasional word of Fertnel's products and 
philosophy, perhaps with some oblique references to its many lawsuits.
Later, in an "ever-escalating effort" to keep his friends amused, Armstrong opened 
up official Fertnel headquarters on the Web. "I sat in front of a computer and stared 
at it and thought, 'Hey, I could steal from myself.'" The new incarnation, an 
elaborate parody of a corporate Web site, enjoins netizens everywhere to "Think 
Fertnel!"
 
Visitors to the site can have a look around a "cozy cheeze processing sub-station" 
(they simply have to imagine "the fragrant smell of bubbling enzymes" that wafts 
through it). The "world-famous Fertn-o-Bot Remote Arm Tester (RAT)," which helps 
ensure that "few, if any, snack scientists are maimed" in product testing, is shown 
as a QuickTime movie. Then there are the fun facts about such Fertnel-
manufactured snacks as Glow Cheeze, Spray Cheeze, Meat Nickels and Blue-
Cheeze-a-Pet ("sprinkle on the spores and watch it grow a thick coat of mold!"). 
Readers can also send in questions about Fertnel products, which Armstrong puts 
up on the site, along with his answers:
 
 
I like to eat snacks in the bathtub. Do any of your Fertnel Snacks float?
 
I've recently been enjoying vast amounts of Fertnel's Glow Cheeze and I am 
no longer 'regular.' What does your team recommend?
 
The Fertnel site itself may become a moneymaking venture--the actual product, 
of course, will be entertainment and not snacks. Armstrong may not have the 
16,347 lawyers he attributes to Fertnel, but he has gotten legal advice about the 
business aspects of a profitable site. "This lawyer I was talking to said, 'You know, 
you should be doing X, Y and Z,' in terms of some legalese mentioning that it all 
becomes my property and all that kind of stuff. Because I never did that; I was just, 
you know, goofing around. I never thought of the legal implications. And I wasn't 
making any money, I was just doing it for fun."
 
He plans to add the appropriate jargon to his question submission form once the 
site finds sponsorship; it'll be in keeping with the lawsuit-paranoid tone of Fertnel 
(the company's work force, the site says, is more than 73 percent lawyers). And if 
Armstrong needs a model for his legal jargon, there are plenty 
of real corporate sites out there that put up similar terms and conditions of use.
 
For instance, the official site of Olean (www.olean.com), Procter & Gamble's fat-
substitute product, tells its visitors that "By transmitting or posting any 
communication or material to this site you agree that Procter & Gamble or any of its 
affiliates may use your communication as material for any purpose, including 
reproduction, transmission, publication, broadcast and posting. Procter & Gamble 
will not have the ability to respond to messages posted to this site. Furthermore, do 
not post or transmit any unlawful, threatening, libelous, defamatory, obscene, 
pornographic or profane material or any material that could constitute or encourage 
conduct that would be considered a criminal offense or violate any law."
 
Of course, Armstrong doesn't actually want to prohibit his visitors from sending in 
whatever queries they can dream up; he describes some of the questions he gets as 
"really gross stuff, but kind of fun stuff." And he seems capable of coming up with 
likely legal disclaimers and pseudoscientific language all on his own--at times, he 
even seems to anticipate the sorts of things real companies put up on their sites.
 
For example, he got a message from a reader who'd seen the Olean site and 
wrote to him to proclaim, "They stole from you, man!" Armstrong adds, "I went and 
checked it out, and I did see some similarities. They had just as many disgusting 
questions; it was almost like 'Ask the Snack Scientists.' But I don't know if they 
looked at mine."
 
Even fairly tenuous links between reality and parody can rouse the curiosity--and 
suspicions--of Fertnel visitors. Armstrong remembers another bit of e-mail he 
received from someone who claimed to work at Frito-Lay. "His  first message was 
like, 'Are you a disgruntled former employee?' And I told him I wasn't. But I wanted 
to be."
 
That sneaking desire to wield vast capitalistic power may explain why Armstrong 
has kept Fertnel going, developing new products and plotting imaginary corporate 
takeovers ("While Fertnel doesn't yet have plans to divide up the company, sell 
assets and lay off a slew of workers, we are interested in separating the company 
into pieces, increasing profits at any expense and replacing humans with machines 
and primates").
 
"It's fun to pretend you're an evil corporation," Armstrong admits. "It's kind of 
therapeutic: pollute, destroy, you know..."
 
Which is to say, for the fun of wholesale destruction without the threat of legal 
retribution, think Fertnel.
 
 
 
 
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