I didn’t go looking for Geordy.
I went looking for answers- specifically why every major AI model kept treating my website like a rumor instead of a source.
You don’t realize how fragile online identity is until you see GPT hallucinating facts about your company, Claude citing someone else, and Gemini politely pretending your site doesn’t exist. It feels like watching three very confident librarians flip through an empty card catalog with your name on it.
So I did the rational thing: I assumed it was everyone else’s fault.
Until it wasn’t.
Because the more I looked, the more I found the truth no one wants to confront:
Most websites speak human.
Almost none speak machine.
AI reads the latter.
That’s where Geordy enters the story — not as a shiny tool or SEO gadget, but as the strangely quiet adult who walks into a chaotic room full of screaming children and simply… reorganizes reality.
Let me confess something embarrassing:
I thought my site was “structured.”
I had:
On the surface, it looked tidy.
Under the hood?
It looked like a late-stage archaeological dig.
This is the part no one tells you: websites naturally drift toward entropy. One new template, one redesign, one “temporary fix”… and suddenly you’re running a digital Jenga tower.
So when AI models fail to interpret you, the diagnosis is simple:
You never gave them anything stable to interpret.
Most tools arrive with fireworks.
Geordy arrives like a librarian with a cart and a knowing look.
It doesn’t “scan your site” or “score your SEO.”
It rewrites your site’s entire metadata universe behind the scenes — cleanly, consistently, and in formats that AI models actually prefer reading.
For every page, it builds a micro-library:
What struck me wasn’t the output.
It was the order.
For the first time ever, everything my site could say was being said the same way, with structure instead of improvisation.
It felt like seeing my website speak in full sentences for the first time.
It happened when I checked my Geordy subdomain.
Dozens of formats per page.
All consistent.
All valid.
All updated automatically.
Every version of every URL existed in a parallel structured universe — one built for machines, not humans.
I realized how absurd the manual alternative is:
It’s not a workflow.
It’s a punishment.
Geordy essentially said:
“You should never have had to do any of this in the first place.”
And it was right.
Your website has two identities:
No one talks about the second one.
Geordy exists entirely for it.
It creates the machine-readable version of your website that LLMs, AI Overviews, search systems, knowledge engines, and agentic models rely on.
This isn’t SEO.
This is literacy — but for machines.
And once you see that split, you can’t unsee it.
Geordy gives you this subtle, unnerving calm:
No anxiety about broken JSON.
No guilt about ignored schema.
No fear of missing metadata.
No duct-tape RSS hacks.
No “we’ll fix the OG tags later.”
I didn’t realize how mentally heavy this stuff was until a tool simply removed it.
Geordy isn’t loud.
It isn’t flashy.
It doesn’t brag.
It just does the job — the whole job — and steps aside.
The kind of AI tool you trust not because it tells you to, but because everything finally works the way it should have all along.
There isn’t one, unless you count “you’ll resent every other tool” as a catch.
Once you see how Geordy handles structured formats, everything else feels like software pretending to help while secretly expanding your to-do list.
The biggest paradox?
Geordy feels small, but what it fixes is enormous.
Your entire machine-facing identity — automated, stable, and uniform.
That’s not a feature.
It’s architecture.
And it’s been missing from the web for years.
