All Just Words

Hey, look! I have a book cover

2008-05-21T19:43:00.009-05:00

So Orion have settled on the design for my book cover. And I actually love it.

What you can't tell from this picture (the Javascript rollover thing I just tried to do being a FAIL) is that there are actually going to be two covers. The 'nothing' on the image below is actually printed on the second (bright red) cover below the first and is visible through a cut-out. In the flesh it looks very cool.

Click for a bigger version, etc.

The man who went down a hill but fell up a mountain

2008-05-21T16:04:00.010-05:00

The working part of the retreat began well enough yesterday - up reasonably early, omelette for breakfast before settling down for a day of hard graft.

Sure, the scenery was somewhat distracting, especially after we found some binoculars in the cupboard, but all in all, a productive morning and early afternoon was had by all.

The trouble started around five. That's when we decided to take a shopping trip into town to pick up the various provisions we'd forgotten yesterday. Salt, washing powder, food - that kind of thing. It's a really nice walk down to the village in the sunshine, but not so nice walking back up in the rain. And so of course the sky chose the exact moment we left the shop, laden with bags, to throw down water.

Let's grab a quick beer, suggested Rob. Just 'til the shower passes.

One quick beer (for £1.25 in our new local), became two, became three, became sixteen - the rain long since forgotten as we got more and more drunk.

It was only when it started to get dark that we remembered still having to climb the mountain home. This, we knew, was going to be tricky.

The pictures tell their own story...

...yeah, that could have gone better. Still, we made it in the end and rewarded ourselves with pizzas, a bottle of rather excellent Rioja (£4 a bottle) and three quarters of a bottle of rum (£8).

As a result, productivity today - what with a killer hangover and now the football - has been less than brilliant. But hey ho - tomorrow's another day and all work and no play makes Jack a dull blog, right? Right.

I'll leave you with a bonus video: Rob trying (successfully, it has to be admitted) to rid the living room of flies so we could watch the football and eat pizza unmolested by insects. If you didn't know he was fighting flies, you'd think he was a total loon...

More photos of everything on Flickr.

Looks like we made it

2008-05-19T13:54:00.003-05:00

So now, here we are in the sunny - and it is sunny, even at 8 o'clock local time - Valle de Abdalajís.

It's been a ridiculously long day starting with a wake up call at 4:15am, followed by the Gatwick express, a flight at 8 and a two hour drive up the winding road to the villa. I'm so exhausted I can barely type.

Of course, it shouldn't have been a two hour drive. It shouldn't even have been an hour, really, but we decided to take a somewhat unplanned detour via Torremolinos thanks to some slight navigational overconfidence.

But it was worth every second and every twist and turn of the windy mountain road up to 1300 feet above sea level, or whatever it is. The villa is incredible - better even than the website suggested, and with everything one could possibly need. Have a look at the photos on Flickr and you'll see what I mean. It even has Sky TV, so I can follow the same work pattern I'd follow in London - punctuated by Diagnosis Murder and Pets Catch The Funniest Diseases.

Anyway, I'll post properly tomorrow when I'm less fucked - all I'm good for tonight is cooking dinner and maybe drinking some more of the free beers we were given earlier. Dinner and the free beers, by the way, were the product of a shopping trip down to the village where we spent another lost two hours searching for a supermercado. The good news, for those who are planning on joining us in the next six weeks, is that after today Rob (who is out here working on Recommendbox) and I are now experts in Spanish road navigation and the location of every shop, bar, restaurant and church in the village.

Turns out, when you know what you're doing, it's actually a doddle to get here from Gatwick and there are everything you might want to eat is within easy shopping distance. Except decent cheese for cheese on toast - but that's more our problem than Spain's.

Right - Rob has started chopping up the chicken for fajitas. If I don't go inside and stop him, he might start trying to cook it. I'd hate to spoil a great day by dying.

BIFOP Part II: From Twitter With Love

2008-05-18T16:34:00.009-05:00

Tonight is my last night in London before I leave for the mountains of Spain and six weeks of work, rest, work, play and work.

But before I go, and as I sit in this ridiculously huge three-room upgrade suite in Bloomsbury (£70 a night, for cash and winning charm), digesting the last of my Deliverance dinner (fish cakes, hand cut chips and butterfly prawns - not in that order), there's just time for the second installment of everyone's favourite regular feature: Brilliant Ideas For Other People.

This week - James Bond.

This afternoon, for the second time in as many days, I found myself telling someone how the only thing I'd like more than to meet a spy would be to be a spy. On this occasion, I was talking to Scott Rutherford over Sunday lunch, washed down with some excellent Belgian beer, by the canal down Bethnal Green way.

"The problem is," I continued, "I'd be shit at it. I'd want to tell everyone I was a spy. Fuck, I'd want to Twitter it"

"That would be a problem," agreed Scott.

"Quite," I agreed. "A gentleman never Twitters. Although I'd love to read James Bond's Twitter stream." I really would.

Scott looked thoughtful. "Someone should write that."

Dammit he was right! Someone should! It would be brilliant. Immediately we set about setting up a new Twitter account.

Jamesbond? Taken.

007? Gone.

Bondjamesbond? Available!

Thank God - our next choice was going to be James Acton Bond.

"Now pay attention, 007, this is something I'm very proud of. I call it the Twitter. To the casual observer, it looks like a simple mobile web app... but when you enter 140 characters and click this button, it turns in to a sophisticated but irritatingly unreliable way to arrange brunch in any city on earth."

"I think I get the... message... Q"

"Oh, do try to take microblogging seriously, 007. At least try not to crash it... Oh, and, 007... whatever you do, don't follow Robert Scoble."

Just imagine it - every few hours, another Twitter update, straight from James Bond's acid-spitting, chainsaw-concealing, Union Jack-bearing, product-placing mobile. All of them pegged to an actual event either from one of Ian Fleming's books (but not the Sebastian Faulks one - fuck that) or from one of the films.

The possibilities are endless.

"Great news! I'm getting married. My womanising days are behind me. LOL!"

And then the next day...

"Balls :-("

And then there are the supporting characters. @goldfinger, @pussygalore, @scaramanga, @oddjob - the fact that most of these usernames have already gone shouldn't stop you @replying to them as 007. It serves them right for passing off.

But of course, Scott has Recommendbox to focus on, and I suddenly have a lot on my plate too - so we won't have time to do anything with the idea ourselves. Which of course makes it the perfect BIFOP.

So, who wants it? If you promise to do at least one update a day - and your brain can muster at least a dozen decent Bond references - then the bondjamesbond account password is yours for the asking. Email me at the usual address.

Ok - that's me from London. Next up, a 4am wakeup call, a 5:15am rendezvous and then it's LGW -> AGP -> car hire pickup in time for lunch in the mountains.

Hasta luego!

Clift notes revisited: the final word

2008-05-15T16:35:00.004-05:00

I promised that I'd post the email I received from the Clift in response to this.

I'm not sure who tipped them off to the blog (and the opening to the second paragraph is obviously bollocks, but I'm a sucker for that shit) but clearly what I wrote hit a nerve.

So here's their email, and my reply to their reply. I've promised that further correspondence will be kept private (as is the name and position of the person at the Clift who emailed - a senior manager) so we'll leave it at this, but sufficed to say, I'm impressed. Shame it had to come to this, though.

From: xxxxxxxxx
Date: Thu, Apr 24, 2008 at 9:18 AM
Subject: Your Experience at Clift
To: xxxxxxx@alljustwords.com
Dear Mr. Carr,

One of our guests referred me to your blog this evening and I just wanted to take a moment to contact you and give you my contact information in return.

I am familiar with your work, as well as your soon to be released book, and I certainly appreciate the effect your writing has on public perception and opinion. Of course it is never fun to hear a negative review, but most importantly I truly am saddened to hear that you left Clift with such an unfortunate impression of our staff and service. Obviously you’ve put quite a bit of time and thought into your comments and I understand if you would choose not to revisit the subject, however I would love the opportunity to briefly chat with you and hear a bit more if you’re willing. If not, I do want you to know that we take all feedback very seriously—as we do our service standards—and I will certainly be sharing it with my peers.

Again, thank you for taking the time to write and please feel free to contact me should we have the opportunity to welcome you back to Clift.

Sincerely,

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXX MANAGER
CLIFT

And here's my reply. I wrote it straight off the cuff when I got the mail and, reading it back, I know it sounds a bit preachy and pompous (quel surprise, right?). But it was genuinely meant - if the staff at Clift would just chill the fuck out a bit, it could be one of the best, if the most expensive, hotels in the city...

From: xxxxxxx@alljustwords.com
Date: Thu, Apr 24, 2008 at 12:30 PM
Subject: Your Experience at Clift
To: xxxxxxxxx
Dear Ms xxxxxxxx (can I call you xxxxxxx?),

First of all, thank you for your reply. It's ironic that your email is the first thing about Clift I've experienced and thought to myself, 'wow - that's really spot on.' I'm being totally sincere here - it was exactly the right way to respond to my post and there are a good number of companies who would do well to take a leaf out of your book.
The flattery about what you charitably call 'my work' was a nice touch too, and appreciated. Stroke a writer's ego and we're putty in your hands - whether it's true or not is totally irrelevant.

Anyway, I don't know that there's much value in talking about my own experiences further - although of course if you do want to discuss something specifically then I'd of course be happy to give you a call - given that you had the courtesy of contacting me. Really, though, all I would probably say on the phone is some variation of what follows...

I understand that there's a certain image that Clift is aspiring to - let's call it 'sophisticated aloofness' - the sense that the staff are just as cool as the guests, if not more so. The sense of exclusivity that comes from having to pay $300 to get a seat. I get it. And it works. I actually visited the hotel bar the night before my colleagues arrived in town, just with a friend from San Francisco. We were perplexed by the apparently silly table reservations system but sat at
the bar and enjoyed some excellent mojitos. The atmosphere was cool and we didn't grudge the bill as a result.

But the huge danger is that that very same aloofness, if not really tightly managed, can trip over into institutionalised arrogance. And that's what seems to have happened here. If you encourage a waitress enough times to act like she's better than the guests (as opposed to equal - which of course she is), then she'll inevitably start to believe it. But if that's the case then she needs to pay the guests $300 for the vodka and not the other way around.

The group of people I was with this last week include some really influential people - much more influential than I am. These are founders of companies who have come over to San Francisco from London to form partnerships with US-based peers and investors that could lead to valuations in the millions - perhaps hundreds of millions of dollars. The next Facebook or Myspace could very possibly be amongst their ranks. These are the super-block-bookers of tomorrow who, had they left with a positive experience of Clift - would have stayed for years to come and insisted that their management do the same. A stay at Clift would have become part of their image. But right now, as these same people build their businesses, it takes a lot to justify spending $300 on a bottle of rum or double that on a meal for six. The experience has to be perfect, and it just wasn't. People were left feeling resentful that they were expected to tip someone who acted like they hated them.

So, here's all I'd love to happen - I'd love someone; perhaps you as you seem to 'get it' - to talk to the staff and ask them to lighten up a bit. Just a touch. To reiterate that not everyone who walks through the door is a wannabe rock star or wants to be seen to be seen. Some clients are serious business people who know the importance of appearing cool but also recognise the even greater importance of making their customers feel like a million dollars. Many are people just like the waitresses and barmen themselves. Just that touch more empathy and a touch less resentment would probably be all it takes to fix every problem I listed in my post. After that, your prices are your own affair.

So that's all I'd ask. Tell them all to lighten up a bit. And I'd really like your permission to post your mail to me and this reply on the blog too. I was genuinely impressed by it and I think others will be too. I'll of course remove your contact info before doing so. Do please let me know if that's ok.

Either way, thank you again for responding.

Sincerely,
Paul

And that, as I say, is that.

Around the world on faulty wheels

2008-05-14T12:39:00.008-05:00

You'll continue to forgive me - thank me, perhaps - for light blogging until Monday.

I'm busy putting various things in to place before I embark on stage two of my semi-permanent technomadic experiment. I've spent the last hour repairing my trusty maroon suitcase with my equally trusty Leatherman - and I've just received the first of many, many hire car confirmations. Not a Dodge Challenger this time - we have to drive up a mountain.

I did want to drop by though, to offer quick-yet-hearty congratulations to Anna, Jeremy and the rest of the Penguin gang who have been nominated for not one but two NMA Effectiveness Awards this year.

I said this earlier on Twitter, but it deserves more permanence - I'm amazed by how good Penguin's digital strategy is.

Sure, they're not the only major publisher doing whip-smart things in digital publishing - Sarah Lloyd's book publisher’s manifesto for the 21st century is required reading for the entire industry, and the Pan Macmillan digital team are geniuses to a (wo)man. Likewise, I've seen from an author's point of view how Orion are embracing the future - working closely with authors to craft a strategy appropriate to each book. And they're keeping an open mind, which is the key to all of this.

In fact, I'm pretty sure that by now every major house is knee deep in Web 2.0 strategy documents.

But while there's brilliance cropping up all over he place, I'm not sure - right now - that anyone in the world is doing more interesting and innovative stuff on the trade side of digital publishing than Penguin.

The company's partnership on WeTellStories with Dan and Adrian Hon's Si x To Start is inspired, even if the title of Th e 21 Steps reminds me of 'Repton 3: Around The World In 40 Screens'. And If you haven't already checked out Spinebreakers and BlogaPenguinC lassic (amazing that that domain was still available) then you don't deserve to be able to read. At least not in the future.

Am I overlooking anyone? Is there a better team somewhere on the globe? Emails to the usual address and I'll post a correction.

Right - I have various vital cables to order from Dabs before dinner so I'd better get on. I'll leave you with a few bits of housekeeping...

1) If you haven't received an invitation to the leaving event in the park and think you should have, email me. There will be pedalo racing.

2) Thanks to everyone who sent in video recommendations in response to Monday's post. I'll try to watch as many of them as I can before the end of the week and get a round-up of the best suggestions sometime next week.

3) And finally thanks also to everyone who emailed me regarding the 'tired of London' post. It's the biggest postbag by far since I got back to London and some of the mails made me ROFchuckling. In particular ~~Cate Blanchett~~ Rebecca who asked simply...

"Has it occurred to you that you're just getting old?"

Every day, Rebecca, every day.

...

Tomorrow: that long-awaited reply from the Clift.

P.C.B.A.T.P.A.T.S.D.A.S.C.T.I.T: Part One

2008-05-13T15:45:00.009-05:00

Hot on the heels of last week's B.I.F.O.P., the first part of a new feature I'm calling 'Paul Can't Be Arsed To Post Anything Today So Does A Stupid Card Trick Instead, Tuesday'. The rules are simple...

More next time!

(Update: As requested by Emma - version two, in a format that can be frame-by-framed. Pft.)

Funny or Direct to video?

2008-05-12T11:11:00.007-05:00

Flicking, belatedly, through the current issue of Wired, I stumbled across The Human Giant's guide to The Next Web-to-TV Stars.

The idea of the piece is simple: comedy web-to-TV cross-over stars, Human Giant predict the comedy web-to-TV stars of the future.

It's an interesting enough list, although the implied premise - that these are shows that TV execs should be looking at next - doesn't entirely stand up when the chosen five include Michael Showalter, Hardly Working plus shows on Super Deluxe and ComedyCentral.com. It's a fair assumption that the execs have probably already spotted those - as have most Wired readers who spend any time watching web video. (If a web TV show falls in the woods and Michael Cera isn't guest starring, does it make a sound?)

But what it also underlines is how concentrated online video comedy is: visit Super Deluxe, College Humor, Comedy Central, Funny or Die and The Onion and you've covered most of the bases. And God knows, you better find American humor funny because if British humour is more your bag, you're basically fucked. BBC iPlayer et al don't count - they're not web TV, they're just TV - and 18 Doughty Street went bust - so what else is there? Seriously; answers on a saucy postcard.

Sure, there are millions of subjectively funny one-off videos online: mash-ups of Family Guy scenes with the Matrix trailer, or dramatic ~~chipmunk~~ prairie dog clips, but where are the consistently funny - and yet unsigned by big media - comedy shows? Shows with actual writers, writing actual original material.

What can compete with last night's Daily Show or the latest Showalter showalter when I want to lean back and laugh as I eat lunch at my desk? What glaring gems am I missing?

Email me - blog@alljustwords.com - and I'll do a round-up of the best suggestions in the next few days. Feel free to suggest your own show too. As I said to someone earlier, if we can't indulge ourselves, how on earth can we expect others to do the same?

We built this city on... eww... wait... tell me that's not... oh Jesus Christ...

2008-05-09T19:32:00.007-05:00

Now officially the most expensive city in the world, according to the current issue of Newsweek, and with an old Etonian as its new mayor, London is certainly having something of a crisis of cool. And by crisis, I mean absolute and total hemorrhaging.

Streets awash in politically bankrupt free-sheets that prove the maxim, "you can't put a price on total shit", Johnny Vegas sexually assaulting girls at the Bloomsbury and - fuck - when the So Solid crew starts recruiting shotgun-toting Barristers, surely it's time to get the hell out of Dodge. Although not via Terminal Five, obviously.

I've spent a bit of a manic few days hopping all over the city, catching up with a whole bunch of people I haven't seen in a while - pedalling a boat on the Serpantine with Rob and Richard, lunching in Farringdon with Angus, networking on the Southbank with Mike Butcher and the great and the good of UK.com and finally last night partying in Soho with Zoe, Maggie, Anna, Michael, Tom, Scott, two Alexes and a whole bunch of others. And while the people were as cool as ever was, there was something - a definite something - missing.

Take Soho - I swear drinking around there on a Friday night used to feel vibrant and fun. Rammed, sure. Overpriced, f'real. But fun; and with the sense that adventure - a new bar, a bizarre conversation, a brilliant joke, a girl with an infectious laugh - could lurk around any corner. But last night - standing outside Cafe Boheme, surrounded by boozed-up runners and shaggy-haired APs who, at the first sign of sun, had crowded on the streets to smash glasses and shout 'oy oy' at their mates - I could easily have been standing in a G2 article about provincial binge drinking. This wasn't my beautiful Soho.

As Alex and Zoe - both recently back from the US - observed; no one in London seems to give a shit any more about barging past you or invading your personal space. Even on St Patrick's day in Dallas, in a bar packed with paralytic college children, there was more basic courtesy. And not least the courtesy not to charge you the equivalent of $100 for lunch and $40 for a bottle of house white.

If two-and-a-bit months in the US taught me anything, it's that Samuel Johnson was wrong. Being tired of London does not necessarily mean one is tired of life. Au contraire; being in San Francisco, for example, showed me just how un-tired it's possible to be with life when eating a gigantic cheesecake on a sunny roof terrace, while San Diego revealed the perfect pleasure of lying on a sun lounger between conference sessions with good friends, catching up on business reading. The perfect business / pleasure Venn diagram.

Call me a hypocrite (you won't be alone) but being back in London I miss being around people who aren't cynical about everything because it's cool to be too cool for cool school. I miss getting a ton of work done but still feeling relaxed and healthy. And I miss having lunch and getting change from fifty quid.

So, for all these reasons, I was really pleased yesterday to get the booking confirmation for the first stop on stage two of my travels. An 'office' in the mountains of Valle de Abdalajís, replete with high-speed Internet, but also hills for parascending. Six weeks (to begin with) in an amazing place that once again costs far less than even a modest flat here - with plenty of work space and time and with the benefits of healthy mountain air and the possibility of some actual exercise.

Adam Kay suggested the perfect phrase the other day, to describe what I'm aiming for: being a 'technomad.' The world as the ultimate open plan office, paid in Sterling and using geographic arbitrage to maximise real earnings in Euro, Dollars or whatever feels most appropriate.

But it's not all work, work, work and so I'm equally delighted that, like last time, plenty of London will be coming along too, at different stages. It's like packing up all the adventures, jokes, bizarre conversations - and, who knows?, girls with infectious laughs - of London in a maroon suitcase on wheels and taking them with me, away from the madness.

Of course, I'll come back to London - lots. I'm still in love with it, more than anywhere else, and always will be. But for now, my heart needs to grow fonder. And we all know how that works, right?

Free The Stress Test One

2008-05-09T04:14:00.002-05:00

A huge thank you to the 7.3million people who have emailed me in the last 48 hours to ask variations on the question "have you been kidnapped / murdered by Scientologists?"

No - sorry - I have not. Just having a busy few days - normal blog service will resume... etc.

(Of course that's exactly what I would say had I been kidnapped by Scientologists.)

Tom Cruise: losing his religion?

2008-05-06T01:36:00.004-05:00

So, Tom Cruise has a new official website.

Just for the record, and to satisfy the 'criticism/review' defence, let me say this: it's shit.

I mean, really bad. Just a bunch of photos and an over-long video and rambling biography bad. Designed by a student for drug money bad.

Seriously, Tom, if you're going to have a badass countdown thing then what's on the other end better be really fucking good - not just the world's most narcissistic Moonfruit site.

However Cruise does deserve kudos for one brave move. Look at these terms and conditions of use...

C. Prohibited Activity

The following is a partial list of the kind of activity that is illegal or prohibited on the Website and through your use of the Services. We reserve the right to investigate and take appropriate legal action against anyone who, in our sole discretion, violates this provision, including without limitation, removing the offending communications from the Website and reporting you to law enforcement authorities. Prohibited activity includes, but is not limited to activity that, in our sole discretion:

...is patently offensive and promotes racism, bigotry, hatred or physical harm of any kind against any group or individual...

harasses or advocates harassment of another person...

is false or misleading...

involves the transmission of "junk mail," "chain letters," or unsolicited mass mailing...

Constitutes, furthers or promotes any criminal or tortious activity...

involves commercial activities and/or sales without our prior written consent such as contests, sweepstakes, barter, advertising, or pyramid schemes...

uses any information obtained from the Services or the Website in order to harass, abuse, or harm another person...

Wow - no harassment, unsolicited mail, bigotry and hatred, pyramid schemes or other kinds of harm allowed on the site? Is it me or did Tom Cruise just ban the Scientologists?

Now if only he'd go to Tottenham Court Road and up-end all those 'stress test' tables.

...

Important legal disclaimer: The Scientologists are a notoriously litigious bunch so I think it's important that I point out that in the above post I was just kidding. Describing Scientology in the title as a religion was just a joke. It is of course a lunatic cult, created by a science fiction author with the specific aim of fleecing gullible people out of their money. Ok, lawyers? Sheesh.

B.I.F.O.P Redux: here's one I made later

2008-05-05T13:25:00.007-05:00

After posting the first installment of Brilliant Ideas For Other People this morning, it suddenly occurred to me that there might be some cynics out there who would doubt me.

Cynics who would think that I wasn't giving away these brilliant ideas through generosity or because I couldn't be bothered to do anything with them, but rather because I lacked the ability to implement them myself.

That hypothetical lack of faith worried me.

So, just to put the imaginary haters in their fictitious places, I have just spent the most ridiculous two hours of my life making real an idea that I was going to give away in next week's installment.

It's an alternative to TinyURL.com for people who hate acronyms. I call it UnbelievablySmallUniformResourceLocator.com.

Simply take an existing TinyURL (Twitter is full of the fuckers), enter it into the site and let UnbelievablySmallUniformResourceLocator.com do the rest! You'll be the envy of your friends.

Take that, theoretical doubting Thomases!

Brilliant Ideas For Other People: Part One

2008-05-05T05:28:00.009-05:00

Like most brilliant people, I often come up with brilliant ideas for businesses that I know I'll never bother to do anything with.

And then, inevitably, a few months later, some other clown has the exact same idea and gets all the credit. And rightly so, I suppose. It was kind of inevitable that someone else would come up with 'Clitter' - my brilliant idea for female orgasm microblogging.

But no longer! Starting today, I'm going to blog all of the brilliant ideas I can't be bothered to implement in a new irregular feature I'm calling 'Brilliant Ideas For Other People'.

The way it works is simple: all of the ideas are yours for the taking on the condition that you do something with them. I don't even want any credit if you turn them into the next Facebooks (good luck with that) - just know that when you're on stage being interviewed by The Lacy, I'll be sitting smugly at the back, whispering to anyone who'll listen about how you stole the idea from me.

Let the egotistical pre-demonstration of intellectual provenance begin!

...

Idea Number One: shEbay

So, she finally dumped your sorry ass, huh? Don't worry - there are plenty more fish on plentyoffish.com and you were too good for her anyway. And she was probably nuts. And cheating on you. With someone rubbish.

But - wait! - what are you going to do with all the crap she's left in your house? The 'going out' shoes, the hair products, the hoodie that actually belonged to her previous ex? That's where shEbay comes in - the world's first auction site specifically for offloading crap from exes. Includes a special tool for listing hairclips by the dozen. You'll be finding those fuckers for months.

Potential pro: Additional advertising revenue from Match.com.
Possible con: The domain is already owned by an accountant called Andrew Shebay.

...

Idea Number Two: UncharityGifts.com.

Looking for the perfect gift for the self-righteous dick in your life?

Want to feel better about your own karmic impotence by investing in anti-social projects around the world?

Then UnCharityGifts is the site for you.

What is UncharityGifts?

UnCharityGifts is a completely for-profit site, allowing you to offset the good done by the self-righteous, orphan hugging sons of bitches amongst your friends.

Perhaps you’ve experienced that most disappointing of disappointments: tearing open a birthday present from someone who you thought was your friend – only to discover that, in lieu of an actual gift, they have chosen to send a goat to an African village in your name - or to provide sanitation to a third-world orphanage.

Or maybe you’ve booked a hugely expensive transatlantic flight, only to be offered the ‘chance’ to pay even more money for the airline to plant a tree to offset your carbon emitions. Either way, we’re sure your reaction will have been the same: “Just. Fuck. Off.”

But finally there’s a way to undo all of this self-righteous faux-generous non-gifting...

UnCharityGifts.com!

The perfect return-gift for your self-righteous friends: for just £2.50 ($5) we’ll send a poacher to an African village to steal a cow – in their name! Or for just £5 ($10) we’ll pay local workers to fill in a much-needed well with concrete or raze an entire classroom to the ground.

As with Charity Gifts, you’ll receive no actual proof that we’ve done any of the above, rather than just pocketing the money to cover admin costs, but who cares? The important thing is that your friend will receive a handsome certificate of authenticity to make them think long and hard about what they’ve done.

Remember: if you steal a man’s fish, you’ll make him hungry for a day – but steal his nets and you’ll keep him hungry for a lifetime.

Or why not treat yourself? Next time you fly long-haul why not offset someone else’s carbon offsetting? For just for just £5 (£2.50 short-haul) we’ll dig up a fully grown tree from a sustainable forest and burn it. You’ll receive a zip-lock back containing its ashes and a certificate confirming how much carbon offsetting you’ve offset.

So what are you waiting for? Do your bit by undoing someone else’s bit now! It’s the gift that keeps on taking!

Potential Pro: I've already registered the domain. If you build the site, it's yours for the asking.
Possible Con: Eternal damnation.

...

Idea Number Three:
Passive Aggressive Goats.com.

This one still needs some work.

...

More brilliant ideas next time!

Ok, let's do this thing

2008-05-04T10:39:00.005-05:00

As long time readers will be dimly aware, three months ago I decided to sell almost everything I owned, put the rest of my stuff in storage, close out the lease on my East Dulwich and roam around the US for a while.

I had a ton of work to do - some of which I've already blogged about and a fair amount more will be revealed soon - and I couldn't really think of a better place to do it.

The rationale was simple, as was the math(s). Taking San Francisco as an example - I stayed at the York, where they filmed Vertigo. It was in a great area - right downtown and, due to some brilliant negotiation on my part, I got a big room - with free wireless, a table and chairs and a walk in wardrobe (perfect for earthquakes) for just shy of $60 a night. That's a peep over £200 a week.

My rent in East Dulwich, before council tax, broadband, cleaner, little bottles of shampoo and all the other stuff you don't have to pay for in hotels was £230. Nearer £275 when you add in the other stuff. Added to that the fact that food was cheaper than in London, the scenery was more interesting, the girls were hotter (sorry London, but they were) and so was the weather - and it's hard to think of a reason to come back.

And yet come back I did, after almost 20,000 miles, partly because I had some admin to sort out for the book and partly because I wanted to confirm some opportunity costs before making a permanent decision. Specifically, I wanted to confirm what the cost of living to the same standard in London - central, in a nice place, with a cleaner and all that jazz - would be. So, the day after I arrived back in London, I called some estate agents and went on a trawl of Covent Garden, Soho, Victoria and various other zone one locales. I saw maybe two great places - and twice as many awful ones - and did the maths on the best-cheapest.

First of all, the rent for a one bed in Soho £365 a week, before anything. Add in tax, agent fees and telecoms install fees spread over a year, monthly line rentals, cleaner and some London weighting to cover the extra cost of food compared to the rest of the world and you're talking £400. Twice as much as in San Francisco and with none of the mobility options. Or the hot girls.

And then there was transport, environment, lack of mobility options, the strong Pound... in other words, I asked a question when I already knew the answer (which incidentally, is the only time you should ask a question) - no, it makes absolutely no sense to live in a fixed location - especially London - when you don't have to.

When your only requirement to make a living is a laptop and an Internet connection, then the economic, social and psychological advantages of living the way I have been for the past two and a half months are overwhelming. All you need to do is downsize your wardrobe to fit in a single suitcase, make all of your bills paperless and digitalise all of your entertainment and you're ready to go with zero fun left behind.

And so, having got the hang of this life-in-a-suitcase thing, I've decided that I'm going to make it a semi-permanent arrangement, starting in a week or so. An all-encompassing, ongoing experiment to see if it's possible to live to a ridiculously high standard of comfort and excitement for less than the cost of getting by in London using a combination of currency juggling and targetted blagging. I think I'm going to start in mainland Europe, but we'll see.

"My name is Tallulah / My first rule of thumb / I don't say were I'm going / Or where I'm coming from."

...right?

I reckon the optimum period of time per location is a month - maybe a month and a half - long enough to get some work done and justify unpacking, but not too long to get settled. And with short enough notice periods - if I have to have them at all - that I can move on a whim.

"I try to leave a little reputation behind me / So if you really need to / You'll know how to find me..."

Right.

Of course, as was the case for the last ten weeks, anyone and everyone is welcome to join me for a spell. There's always room for guests - especially fun ones who don't mind being blogged about. Twitter me up or watch this space for the specifics.

Pedalophilia

2008-05-03T17:10:00.007-05:00

"When the weather is fine you know it's the time
For messin' about on the river
If you take my advice there's nothing so nice
As messin' about on the river"

An odd Saturday, all told.

Waking up this morning in Michelle's entrepreneurs' hostel with God's own hangover - courtesy of an impromptu 'welcome back to London' drinking session for Rob and me - we decided to hit the shops of Knightsbridge. I needed to buy a new shirt, having slept in my clothes, and Richard wanted to to upgrade his crumbling wallet.

I won't dwell on the shirt - it was black and doesn't require ironing (score) - but the wallet Richard chose bears some serious consideration.

The first thing to know about it is that's it's green. Green skate skin. Yes, skate, the fish. Apparently skate is the most hard-wearing of 'leather' and is - one assumes - waterproof. It also looks faintly ridiculous when dyed lime green.

This was, you'll understand, a bold statement of a wallet.

It also cost £120. One hundred and twenty pounds for a wallet. Rob and I tried to establish the point in buying a wallet that cost more money than it would ever contain, but we gave up. The important thing was that Richard was very pleased with it, convinced that the cost would be more than justified by the amount of female attention the wallet would attract.

Determined not to be left behind in the wasting money stakes, Rob insisted that we all head to the bookies so that he could bet money on a horse. But not just any horse - a virtual horse. A cartoon horse race, shown on a TV screen in the bookies, racing for very real money. Money which Rob duly lost. I went two pounds up on my first spin of virtual roulette and immediately cashed it in. I know when to quit.

After yesterday's pissing rain, it was nice to see the sun shining and the skies clear - so nice in fact that we decided to do something very summery. We went to the Serpantine hired a pedalo. Just picture that scene - me, Robert Loch and Richard O'Connor, on a big plastic boat with a beautiful pea green wallet. It was like being 15 again, which we had to keep reminding ourselves that we weren't given that every other boat was full of 15 year old girls in summer dresses. Things could have got very tricky indeed.

On our way past the boat house, Richard decided to ask the attendant - a pretty enough Eastern European girl - what she thought of his wallet. "Are you proud of it?" she asked.

"Yes," said Richard, "do you like it?"

"No."

So, yes, that was Saturday. Tomorrow: a big decision about What Happens Next.

Now look what you've done, Bromley

2008-05-02T10:54:00.004-05:00

Greetings from the Easy Everything Internet cafe on the Strand. In the world of inappropriately named places, even the Perfect Steak House chain has nothing on this place. Easy it ain't. But hey ho, I have an hour to kill and this is the best I could do without caning my fingers on the Blackberry in the rain.

So, the big talk in everyone's mouth today is the London Mayoral Election. At the time of writing, it's looking frighteningly like Boris might have clinched it, which - I'll be honest - makes me want to kill everyone who lives outside zone three. "Ooh, commuting is so expensive, let's elect a cunt in a clown suit for London and then bugger off back to the suburbs."

There's also the boring habit of commentators - particularly right wing ones - telling us that, despite his bufoony exterior, Boris is actually a Very Shrewd Operator. They tell us this in the same way that pub bores tell us that "pigs are actually very clean animals" and "there's actually more bacteria on a chopping board that on your toilet seat." As if this is something we don't fucking already know.

Of course Boris is a shrewd operator and a Very Smart Man. He was a King's Scholar at Eton and then read Classics at Oxford. He is a historian, a former magazine editor and a former Shadow Higher Education Minister. He has also had at least one affair. All of the above require a certain degree of smarts, particularly the last one. Although he did get caught.

No, the problem is not his intelligence but his policies - his proposed return to Routemasters with conductors has already been shown to be impractical and unaffordable and will be scrapped in his first month of office; he has poured scorn on the idea of healthy school meals ("why shouldn't parents push pies through the railings"), he was pro the Iraq war (having given America the "benefit of the doubt" that it had made some post-war reconstruction plans) and he want to reduce the number of speed bumps (which "necessitate the use of 4x4s") and scrap the congestion charge. His housing policy is to relax new build quotas and to preserve 'historic' terrace blocks rather than building higher capacity new builds. What do we want? Less affordable housing! When do we want it? 1922.

But of course, none of the above matters, because no one is actually voting for actual Boris. They're voting either against Ken or for that comical version of Boris who presents have I Got News For You. The next person who I hear uttering the words "well at least he'll be entertaining!" as if we're voting to keep him in the Big Brother House rather than handing him control of a budget of £11bn of our money is going to find themselves pushed into the jaws of a bendy bus. Howard from the Halifax ads is entertaining but that's the reason I wouldn't trust him to set up my ISA.

And, fuck, it's not like Ken has been boring. He drinks neat whisky in meetings and he once called Oliver Finegold a Nazi. That's entertaining. He breeds newts and has lovechildren (not at the same time) - that's entertaining too. And he once pushed that poor woman down some stairs. More seriously, though, he has done wonders for London's public transport system - really - he set up the first register for same-sex couples, well before the Civil Partnership legislation was enacted, and he famously said "I just long for the day I wake up and find that the Saudi Royal Family are swinging from lamp-posts and they've got a proper government that represents the people of Saudi Arabia."Which is all kinda ballsy.

But unless the pundits on both sides are wrong, he's out on his ear and Boris is in. The only hope for London is that he continues the management policy he began at the Spectator and simply delegates the entire job to someone competent.

Perhaps he could ask Ken to do it - he'll probably be looking for something to do.

Just what a relentless self-promotor like me needs: a publicist

2008-05-01T17:57:00.007-05:00

Yesterday I finally met Rebecca, the lovely person who is handling the press for the book. She does press for Mil Millington too, so I'm in great hands.

Mil has a book our in July as well and sent me a very supportive email when he heard about my pub. date: "Way to dissipate their energy, Carr. You wanker." Heh. He loves me really.

To kick things off, Rebecca (well, Orion, really) took me for lunch at the Covent Garden hotel - a place where I've previously drunk a great deal of port, but never eaten. It was excellent, and not just because we were seated right next to Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen and his black leather man bag (not a euphemism).

The big topic of conversation was how to promote the ebook version of the book, which is being published at the same time as the trade paperback. Rebecca knows press, you see, but noone really knows how to promote an ebook. Or even if it can be done.

One idea is for me to pen a special downloadable additional chapter of the book, detailing the various bits of intrigue and skulduggery that have gone on since I finished the original draft. I really like that idea - and not least because there are various situations I glossed over in the book - life's too short to hold grudges, right? - but now which I'm kind of itching to tell. We'll see.

The other thing we finally agreed on is what we're going to call the thing... a mash-up of a couple of possibilities I'd suggested. The final title is: "Bringing Nothing To The Party: True Confessions Of A New Media Whore." And, you know what? I like it.

Bringing Nothing To The Party, since 1979 - that's me.

Laaandon calling

2008-04-30T01:19:00.010-05:00

So, then - today I have my first full day of meetings in town since getting back.

Loads to see and do - publishers, potential work buddies, friends - even estate agents - all planned to the kind of pinpoint temporal and geographical precision that makes me glad I have the Blackberry back. I've even managed to install a Skype client on it which is a fucking revelation.

I'm looking forward to popping the Richard Curtis-esque false memories I've built up around the ~~center~~ centre of town, specifically the likes of Covent Garden and Soho, while I've been away. It's funny how your head paints these odd cliched memory pictures of home - not unlike, appropriately, the chalk drawings in Mary Poppins.

On the one hand I'm expecting to see cokernee flower sellers and Amy Winehouse with a plum in her mouth on every corner - but on the other, I've also adjusted my memory of the Central line to something straight out of the third world and all of the stairwells to stink of piss. Of course now it will be exactly like that today, just to fuck with me. That's London.

At least I've just about stopped thinking in Dollars and whispering "Jesus Christ" to myself every time I buy a sandwich.

But I'm still grateful that my publisher is buying me lunch.

...

In other news: I've nudged the Clift Hotel to get permission to publish our correspondence. If I don't hear from them by the end of the week I'll stick up an edited version, without personally identifying information. It's odd that they're being sluggish again, actually, as their initial email was a masterpiece of good 'press' relations. I've resent the request to them, just in case their obnoxious mail server has eaten it.

Also... you've seen this, right? (I'd embed it, but the motherfucker autoplays. For shame, Al Gore, for shame.)

...

Ok, time for breakfast - my last Full English of the week, I swear - back to healthy tomorrow. And then I have a train to catch.

See you on the Central line.

Don't have a cow, man

2008-04-29T02:12:00.011-05:00

"Hatred is the coward's revenge for being intimidated." - George Bernard Shaw

Another early morning, and another fine breakfast. I'm full of pork and raring to go (.com).

Yesterday was a ridiculously productive day - a much-needed refuelling stop after the last two and a bit months of adventure. My broken glasses are fixed, my bent credit card is reordered, my clothes are laundered, my suitcase is repaired and in about 44 minutes, my new Blackberry is due to arrive.

I also managed to get back up to speed with the book. For those of you who have asked, things are continuing apace - the confirmed pub date is now the end of July in what publishers call 'trade paperback' format. This is the format used for books like Tony Young's 'How To Lose Friends and Alienate People' - you know, the one that looks like a hardback but has a softer cover so it doesn't weigh or cost the same as a bar of gold.

There will also be a mass market paperback edition later in the year for any of my frenemies too cheap to stump for the more glamourous version.

There's all kinds of other hilarious stuff going on, apparently, but one of the great things about having a great publisher - in my case, Alan Sampson at Orion - and an agent (the delightful Robert Kirby) - is that I don't have to deal with it. I just get periodic updates and chuckle to myself.

I have to say, the whole experience of writing my first 'real book' (which is to say one with the potential to upset people) has been an eye-opener. About the process, but more importantly about other people.

I'm asking for trouble saying this, but you could draw a graph plotting the inverse relationship between independent success and mentalness of reaction to the prospect of being mentioned in the book. The more independently succesful people are, the less they care - or, more, accurately, the more enthused they are about the actuality/prospect/wet dream of being included.

My favourite example is Jason Calacanis, the super successful entrepreneur who I describe in the book as a 'dick', amongst other things. How did he respond when he found out? Did he write to my publisher demanding to be excluded otherwise he'd sue? Nope. Did he try to lean on the publisher to edit the manuscript to change bits that put him in a poor light? Nu-uh.

No, what he did was emailed me the following under his real name... (I hope he doesn't mind me pasting this very slightly edited version - he said similar in the comments on an earlier post...)

"Actually, I can't wait for your book! As long as it's true and I get large % of the mentions I'm fine. :-)

... if you really want dirt/people who hate me (or have hated me) I suggest: Nick Denton, Dave Winer... and any SEO you can find.

If you need any confirmation on the madness just send it along...

all the best j"

Now say what you like about Jason (I did) but that's fucking grade A class. A textbook response. It also demonstrates that he, a former journalist, understands what I've now decided to call the Lacy Principle - for every loser who attacks you in public, thirty more people buy your book to see what the fuss is about.

Or, I guess in Jason's case, thirty more people Google his name and discover his human-powered search site, Mahalo (which, by the way, I briefly reviewed last year here.)

I actually make this point in the book - that writing is about the only profession where people can hurl any kind of shit at you and the result is still positive. What doesn't kill us only makes us more interesting. And what kills us makes us immortal, right? That's the thing about us narcissistic personality disorder sufferers. The only thing we really hate is no one caring enough to hurl shit. Silence makes our ears bleed.

Actually, thinking about it, there's probably also a graph to be drawn of success against having the balls to write to me directly rather than skulking in the shadows or bitching to others who don't give a damn. But that's a whole other discussion and I'm too busy to have it. I have too much work to do.

Speaking of which, it's creeping towards nine and this document isn't going to write itself so time to crack on. But first, yesterday I got a wall post on Facebook (remember Facebook?) from Anna, asking me when I was going to put together a video slideshow of all the Flickr photos from my trip.

Anna, darling, your wish is my command....

Video killed the anonymous commenter

2008-04-28T17:42:00.006-05:00

Buoyed by having made a flying start on level two today, I decided to celebrate by making my first video comment on TechCrunch UK.

As I say in the clip, I'm really not sure about the whole visual comment thing but it's certainly a step towards forcing anonymous commenters to grow some balls.

Also, video is fun. I think I might try to do some video blogging on here - perhaps with guest stars, or finger puppets.

It's like an ego trip, squared.

Screw it, let's do it

2008-04-28T02:38:00.004-05:00

I've given up on the idea of decompression. Instead I was up at 5:30am, raring to get started on level two. Seems all I needed was a night's sleep.

Oh, and this...

(Click for the guided tour)

LDN

2008-04-27T02:05:00.005-05:00

I'm on the Heathrow Express, which is running slow due to engineering works.

Hello London. You haven't changed a bit. Now, I'll have one of your excellent breakfasts, please. And don't spare the proper bacon.

Goodbye (and good luck) for now, America

2008-04-26T16:00:00.004-05:00

Well, here I am at gate B28 at JFK - back from Boston and with less than an hour to go until my flight to London.

London, eh? It feels like a thousand years - or at least an entire lifetime - since I was last there. When I was 16, I missed a week of school due to a nasty bout of tonsillitis. When I got back they'd built an entire new tennis court. I wonder what they've done to London while I've been away. Will there be hoverboards? A giant bouncy castle? That would be cool.

The weird thing is, it really doesn't feel like I'm going home. It just feels like another leg of the journey. And in fact it is, both figuratively and actually. I already have the next step well planned - a couple of days to refuel (replace Blackberry, re-order credit card with unbroken chip etc) - and then straight back on the horse, starting in London but venturing far beyond. There's a ton of work to be done and time waits for no man.

These last two-and-a-bit months have been life changing in a million ways - the person who lands at Heathrow will be a very different one than the one who took off. And all for the better. But - yeah - I promised not to go on about that stuff.

So instead, I'm sitting here, looking back at some amazing, and frequently bizarre, experiences - starting with checking in to the Pod in New York, then on to Vegas, Los Angeles (via Barstow), Laguna Beach, San Diego, Colorado, Austin, Dallas, Boston, New York again, Montreal, New York yet again, San Francisco before finally ending back where I started in terminal four of JFK.

A quick flick back through the archives of the blog is like the best holiday scrapbook ever. Even though it wasn't - really - a holiday. Not really.

You'll forgive me, I hope, if the blog goes quiet for a couple of days. I need to - as they say - decompress and get shit done. But equally I hope you'll stick around for level two. This next one has platforms and giant mushrooms and monsters. It's going to be great.

Right - I've just spent the last of my change - $9.30 in quarters and dimes - on a pen and some socks - and now it's time to board. I like flying Virgin as the stewardesses are a bit less orange than on other airlines and the seat-back entertainment is a special kind of brilliant.

I'm surrounded by Brits, shouting about the savings they've made in the sales over here, and clutching their bags of Duty Free cigarettes and booze. We're a funny nation all told - one that I'm really looking forward to being back in for a while but... well, let's see shall we?

See you in Blighty.

Sarah Lacy and the magical unicorn of boo ya

2008-04-25T00:30:00.016-05:00

"So, I should probably make a confession... but if I do, I'd rather you didn't punch me on the nose."

Knowing that she doesn't ever read stuff that's written about her, I could have kept my mouth shut. But for that same reason, I had to tell her and, two drinks in, at least there was a chance her reaction times would be dulled.

"Of course I won't punch you on the nose. I'm un-offendable."

I took another gulp of beer.

"Well... it's just that I sort of skipped Frank Warren's (Post Secret) keynote at South By Southwest and used the time instead to make a postcard with the words 'I pretended to care about your start up but really I just wanted to fuck you' across the front. And then I sent it in to Post Secret."

Pause.

"Wow."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

So - yes! - I finally caught up with Sarah Lacy for beer, nuts and Manhattans. And about time too - I'd managed to miss her in Austin and London and we were well overdue a drink and a chat about our respective books and the fact that we're talking about doing a joint reading - her reading from my book, me from hers - despite the fact that she doesn't have a UK publisher and I don't have a US one.

She was on fine form - even managing to restrain herself from punching me on the nose, despite being entirely justified in doing so. Truth be told, I feel kind of bad about making that postcard and writing that transcript now - I wouldn't have liked it done to me - and it's always much easier to justify taking the piss out of someone when you're not sitting opposite them.

But as I said to her, like it or not, she's a celebrity now and asshole bloggers like me will see her as a target. Just a person on a stage - or a page - with no feelings or professional pride. The price - as they say - of fame.

We talked a bit about the interview, actually, even though she's understandably bored of the whole fucking subject - and it was interesting to hear some context. With that context in mind, and some other behind the scenes information on how she came to be on the stage in the first place - I'm pretty sure no one could have done a better job than she did.

And as I've said before, without her, it would have been the most boring keynote of all time. I did re-iterate that I thought the reach-around was a little excessive though. She laughed, but she knew I was right.

So right in fact that she felt the need to get her revenge with this post which pretty much guarantees that Jason Calacanis will punch me in the face, without even having to go to the hassle of reading the book. I would like it made clear, though, that my actual comment was...

"Jason Calacanis is a dick. I can't imagine anyone meeting him doesn't agree. You could call his mother and even she'd confirm the quote."

The face punching bit - and the other quotes - were spot on though. Crazy 'professional' that she is, Sarah takes notes, even during drunken chat. Especially during drunken chat. Damn her.

Naturally enough, the conversation soon drifted away from Calacanis and on to mythical creatures: minotaurs, unicorns, mermaids and the like. Specifically, we were discussing how shit the design of mermaids was, if I remember correctly. They just seem kinda backwards...

"Dude, I totally went all the way with that mermaid chick last night!"

"Sweet!"

"Yeah! Second base."

Mermaids lead in turn to unicorns and to She Ra and my insistence that He-Man's girlfriend rode a magical winged unicorn. Sara disagreed - it was just your bog-standard pegasus, she insisted. I held my ground - and before we knew it, a Wikipedia Wager was born. The prize? That the loser would autograph the winner's book with the definitive answer to the question her and I have been unable to agree on. To wit, is she the American me or am I the American her. I insisted the former of course, and her the latter. The bet was on.

The result? Well, see for yourself...

If you can't make out the words, it says 'I am the American version of you - and that's all I can ever aspire to be (I'm going to weep later). Your friend and doppelganger (I HOPE!) - Sarah Lacy'. So it's official.

An added bonus was that I got to take away the book, giving me a sneak preview of its contents ahead of next month's official publication. It's always awkward reading something written by someone you know and like as - no matter how terrible it is - you have to say it's great. Fortunately Sarah had thought long and hard about that problem and had come up with the perfect solution - she'd written a book that's really bloody good. So good in fact that I read it from cover to cover on my flights between San Francisco and Boston. I couldn't put it down.

The first thing that struck me was the level of access Sarah has, and the effort she's clearly put into research. On two significant occasions in the past - Kevin Rose's cover and Zuckerberg's keynote - she's been accused of being too friendly with her subjects. Of drinking the Kool-Aid if you like (whatever that is). There's no doubt about it, Rose and Zuckerberg (amongst others) come across as pretty likeable in the book - perhaps because, all told, they are. But still, it's far from a circle jerk. Really far from it. For almost every occasion where a 'web 2.0 superstar' tells their side of a story, Sarah has finagled a similar level of access with an enemy or former business partner to get the other side. It is - in other words - both fair and balanced.

But above all of that, it's fascinating to read - really informative, even for those who know their shit about Web two. At JFK I bought a copy of Fast Company, knowing that I would probably finish Sarah's book before I landed. There's a nice detailed cover piece on Gina Bianchini - the 'Web 2.0 hottie' who co-founded Ning with Marc Andreessen. Reading it just now in the bar at the Hyatt in Boston, I found myself nodding politely but not really feeling like I'd learnt much. The reason? Informative as the Fast Company piece was, the story of Ning - and Gina and Marc - is told much more engagingly and behind-the-scenesly in Sarah's book. As is the story of Digg - which even prompted me to watch an episode of Digg TV on the plane (think Baddiel and Skinner Uninstalled) - and Slide and Twitter and Six Apart and Yelp and, yes, of course, Facebook. If anything, there's just too much information and too many interesting stories to fit into one book.

Yeah. So. I know what you're thinking. Jesus, Paul, you're drinking the Kool Aid yourself now. What a hypocrite, huh, after the postcard. But I said at the time of the keynote that there's a difference between having a bad gig and being a bad reporter - and I'll say again that Sarah is really good at what she does. But more importantly - something that you might not realise if you only know her from that keynote, is that she's very, very funny.

For example, she was telling me that she's hit on a new way to break the ice with notoriously tight-lipped entrepreneurs: she will arrive at the interview with a dog on a lead. But not any dog - an inappropriately sized one. That's the key. Either really small or really big. I laughed as she told me this - assuming it was a joke - but no.

She flipped open her MacBook and sure enough, there were the pictures. Her, Zuck and a tiny little dog, her, Kevin Rose and a huge dog, Larry Page and a ridiculously long sausage dog, Max Levchin struggling with a hound so large that he couldn't even convince it to move (see left)... she had folder after folder of them. Apparently silicon valley types love their dogs so it works every time. She swore me to secrecy on the story as the technique relies on surprise - but, meh, I'm not drinking your Kool-Aid, Lacy.

In fact, just to prove I'm not entirely backtracking on my SXSWi meanness here are five other bad things you might not know about Sarah Lacy...

1) She is a terrible speller. Look carefully at that photo of the inscription. She has spelt my name with a K.
2) Sarah hates Whoopi Goldberg - to the point where she is launching a campaign to steal her job on The View
3) Sarah intends to steal the limelight from her upcoming Yahoo! interview with Steve Jobs by appearing naked on camera, wearing only an iPod
4) Sarah gatecrashes conferences by forcing dot com Super Colliders to hand over their convention passes or face removal from her book (see chapter six of the book for just one example of this evil technique in action)
5) Sarah once killed an owl

But - yes - these terrible aspects of her character aside, you should buy a copy of 'Once You're Lucky, Twice You're Good (The rebirth of Silicon Valley and the Rise of Web 2.0)' and judge for yourself - it's out on May 15th in the US. Trust me, you'll really enjoy it. Wired did - they just gave it 9/10 in a really glowing review.

Owl lovers will probably want to skip chapter nine though.

That shit's just nasty.

Brevity is the soul of shit

2008-04-24T02:54:00.007-05:00

A hell of a day today, all told, and I have to be on a flight to Boston in a few hours for Roflcon. No time there for one of my trademark rambling posts. Instead, a few bullet points from the Digg party last night...

1) There was a unicorn there. Apparently he dislikes Sarah Lacy, which is slightly odd given that unicorns love everyone. I mentioned this to Sarah this evening and we ended up having a discussion about She-Ra. This resulted in a bizarre bet and an inscribed book. Details to follow.

2) Also Tim Ferris, Kevin Rose, Pete Cashmore (nach), iJustine, Michael Arrington etc etc etc.

3) There was Rock Band in a side room.

4) A load of Web Missioners made it along including Mike Butcher who took some great photographs for posterity.

5) Apart from that it was exactly the same as every other dot com party you've ever been to.

Here's the unicorn, dancing...

Tonight saw the Mashable party at the same venue as Digg, which shows remarkable - something. Also the Bebo party. Unfortunately all manner of madness this evening kept me away, locked in a bar in the Mission, but the word on the tweet is that the former was 'great but a bit weird' and the latter was 'cool'. A better report tomorrow from Robert Loch who will be taking over reporting duties for the remainder of Web Mission.

Watch this space for coverage of Roflcon. It's going to be a ball. But for me from San Francisco, it's goodnight, goodbye and good luck Web Missioners.

...

PS: A quick apology to Paul Walsh. That error message in the Clift hotel post was found by him. See details on his excellent blog here. Also, I've had an email from the Clift! More soon.