If you are a huge web geek, there are few tidbits that are as juicy as the leak of Zlango’s funding presentation on Venturebeat yesterday. What I saw and read probably rivaled the leak of Fake Steve Jobs’ real identity as some random-white-guy-author. What I read and saw was so goddamn hilarious, I have a hard time believing that its true. But you know what? I don’t particularly care. I’m just going to pretend that it is as real as MySpace pedophiles.
If you haven’t yet hear, Zlango has a system whereby users can send icon-based SMS (I’m obviously paraphrasing and glossing over some details but I couldn’t bring myself to really learn about something so goddamn stupid). Here is a great example of their picture messages – but what it makes it extra extra special is the fact that the example was pulled from the company’s VC pitch. Wow! And the final kicker – these guys are backed by Accel and Benchmark. Just amazing.
Just unbelievable. Now that I’ve seen this, I’ve got no reason to complain about some of the more ridiculous me-too companies I saw last week at Health 2.0 (that rant reserved for a different post).
Don’t take my word for it, though – check out the presentation. And be prepared to laugh your ass off.
For additional snarky commentary, see here
Yes, I like alliterations – so sue me.
But back to the point at hand. I’m a recent convert to the wonderfully ADD-riddled world of Twitter. While a lot of tweets are horribly lame, all it takes (for a web junkie like me, anyways) is one visit to the http://www.twittervision.com to be convinced of the flood of topical, local information that a service like Twitter is managing on a constant basis.
So it makes perfect sense, then, that Twitter would build an opt-in feature that allows users to “follow” or track topics instead of your alcoholic friend with a, ahem, handsy problem while under the influence. Wanna know what people are saying about Halo3? Track it on Twitter! Wanna find out the latest dish on Stanford? Watch the tweets, baby.
As an experiment, I signed up to track “Stanford” and expected a deluge of lame tweets from sketchy grad students complaining about their helmet reflectors. Or something.
Instead, I’ve read two tweets about people bitching about the Stanford Facebook Apps class. Sweet! Now that is useful information. The third tweet was someone trying to use Twitter as Craigslist by listing an apartment rental. Sneaky!
I’ll report more as I get lambasted with tweets over the next few days.
For a cool 300 million. Good for them. Since none of the major blogs are reporting this yet, I figured I may as well take on the onerous responsibility.
Shopping is much, much easier when you are bald. You never have to worry about whether your coiffed mane is going to look like that of a hobo’s (a hobo without access to fine hair products) no matter how many shirts you try. I know, its kinda obvious but I want to put it out there anyways.
In two brief years of selling my soul to The Man, I’ve learned very few real business skills. But fear not for me! I’ve picked up on other irrelevant artifacts of corporate culture. One of those skills is the ability to recognize and dissect somewhat artificial and fully bullshit corporatespeak. I’ll present these words and phrases as I go along.
Today’s word is pushback. It is a noun and may be spelled as one or two words depending upon context.
– noun, verb
Definition: Pushback is a euphemism for “f*** you, I won’t do what you want me to”. It is a wonderful example of the usage of euphemisms. The word’s history can be traced back to 1987 when a rather skinny engineering manager physically pushed around a fat sales guy over a disagreement at work.
Example Usage: “Bob, I’d love to help you out but we received pushback from the boss” or “James, I understand why you want to pushback but don’t forget that I’m the boss” or even “I find it hard to pushback against your stupid ideas since you are kind of fat”. Okay, scratch that last one, but the other ones are legit.
If you wanna hear about other corporate BS, subscribe to my damn feed here: http://feeds.feedburner.com/bitbubble
After many years of pooh-poohing the whole Facebook thing, I finally caved and joined recently. I knew that my subscription to Facebook would result in one of two things:
- Supreme addiction of the kind my sister and other crazies exhibit
- A tendency to look down upon all serious Facebook users and desperate attempts to feel superior to them.
So far, bullet 2 is winning big. My first observation: Facebook profile photos are like those studio-taken high school photographs. Every uggo and their mom looks great in them. But they’re not fooling me. Ohhh no! I’ve known some of these people for years, and I’ve seen them “in real life”, warts and all. I’ve seen them sans fancy shirt. I’ve seen them minus the chic San Francisco club dance floor in the background. Hell, I’ve seen them hunched over a trash can by the side of Rudy’s sick over one too many shots of tequila.
Just once – once – I’d like one of my Facebook friends to step up and put on a real photo, one that catches them farting, ogling at some girl, sweating from a nominal run or something more embarrassing. Have some gumption, fools! Or at least be a cowering fella like me and leave a big, ugly, blue question mark in place.
You know me. I’m the Mother Teresa of those maligned by popular culture. My newest target is Miss Teen South Carolina. In the last week, I’ve seen the same damn video:
- On YouTube
- At work (for reals)
- On The Today Show
- On the Technorati homepage (jeez)
- On Real Time with Bill Maher
- On my Facebook profile page. This is just the final straw.
Now, this may be a sign that I’m spending too much time on TV and the Internets (yeah, that’s right), but ignore that for a second.
She’s a 17 year old blonde from South Carolina who spends her days dreaming about a goddamn tiara. What the hell did everyone expect that they are so shocked about? Did they expect good ol’ Rosalind Franklin to show up for the swimwear contest?
It’s a stupid Big-Miss-Sunshine beauty pageant – get over it, fools. Let’s make fun of someone less…well, less pathetic.