After a week of Rojoing the syndisphere, I've finally found something good to say--maybe. This Ross Mayfield post augurs for a new post-del.icio.us fraglet style, where each factoid is couched in the soundbite-sized Extended field. It's Liz Smith meets Movable Hype. All the news you can eat in zipless link-blog chunks. One of them dropped off the table and my dog instantly wolfed it down.
I'm really suffering from Post Gillmor Gang Disorder, folks. Normally (an odd word for this sentiment) we would be sitting around virtually dissecting the Adobe-Macromedia splicing. Is it Flash in the Pan, as Tim Bray suggests (ignoring that Flash 7's auto-update capability will soon be far more widely deployed than Sun's JVM) or a reverse takeover of the same stealth type that HP-Compaq may turn out to be? We'll never know, because Mike VIzard is not telling me why I'm full of shit when I say that this is the battle for the heart and soul of the rich client with Longhorn--and nobody gives a damn.
It's midnight Saturday in Daily City, as my Kelsey Group conference badge read, 8 or 9AM in Paris, where Doc Searls' IM reads Away. No chance to ream him for this hypocratical oath my bold:
By the way, the BBC's late moves into the podosphere follows Kevin's long campaign calling for exactly that, and more. Next step: If we can have an auto-assembled morning commute playlist of brief items from lots of people, rather than a 45-minute 'experience' from one, that is a great improvement for both listeners and creators.
Expletive depleted, I say, dear doctor. Yeah, let's have the Best of the Sixties instead of pure Hendrix. More Herman's Hermits, I say! I'm Henery-the-eighth I yam... What the deleted are you talking about? Shuffle this!
I know, I'm a mess. If we were doing the show, Doc would have out-dumbed me with an aw-shucks and rolled right over my sloppy carcass with some story about nothing that would be the only metadata generated about the show on my vanity feeds. If only Steve Gillmor would shut up and let Udell, the brilliant Doc Searls, and that analyst guy carry the ball....
Speaking of the analyst guy, I miss Dana Gardner's unique ability to sound entirely collegial while decimating my idiotic ravings, wrapping 10,000 man-hours of vendor briefings into a concise 2 minute rhetorical question to which the answer is "I guess you're right." Udell, of course, has gone Hollywood with his screencasting studio DreamCast. After one viewing of his del.icio.us cast, I now find myself wandering endlessly through random links on the site in search of... no wait, that's the graveyard walking tour one. Whatever, he doesn't need me anymore... never did.
Come to think of it, these guys won't even take my calls anymore. It's "Sure, I can chat for a minute, but I gotta get ready for a call with Rupert Murdoch at 1" or "Hey, how's your brother's startup going?" I'm getting third and fourth degree separation requests on LinkedIn from people trying to get to Marc Canter. Doug Kaye is talking to John Gilmore about taking over the show. I'm so screwed.
There. I feel better. Hmm, maybe I should change my vanity search to Gilmore.
Tech.no.reti.red Tags: whimper pathetic irrelevance inattention inforouted