Back Then I said:
"Okay, so blogs can get tiresome--I'll give you that. But that's because this blogging thing is part of an evolution. It's not the answer. The destination. It's not anything really except another platform for voice--a really no-cost-entry easy-to-use platform for anyone who knows how to open a browser. Does that mean the rifraf can get in? Oh yeh. There goes the neighborhood. Good."
Still believe it.
In all of this time, I have learned so so much about a few good friends whom I might not have come upon any other way. I've learned so so much about myself, whom I might not have come upon any other way.
For these things alone, I'm glad I took the joy ride.
Of course, I'm no richer for it.
Somebody owes me some doggone green.
October 30, 2004
I am grateful for the voices
Paul, simply beautiful:
"I said in comments to someone else's blog a few days ago, that some months ago, I'd taken in a young dog, and had become aware that if his life expectancy is normal for his species, there is a fair chance he will outlive me; in other words, I'm no longer the middle aged guy I've described myself as being for some time, I'm a guy on his last dog."
.....
"But in the pocket microscope, I caught a glimpse of that old scar, and found it had a complexity and strangeness I've long ignored. In a strong light, I examined it freshly through the little lens, and looked anew at its spidery, faint contours, memories carved in my flesh of my own various stupidities, but a record I didn't control in its making, that is its own map of that day. I became momentarily fascinated by the rest of my hand, marked all over with the bad outcomes of accidents, investigations, and procedures or equipment not well enough understood. My hands are ugly enough at the normal scale, but examined a millimeter at a time, they are each a living horror, tolerable only for being abstract in their grotesquery, under a twenty power lens. After more than fifty years of living, I realized that there is no part of my left hand that hasn't been, at some time or another, at least superficially injured. That hand is literally one big collection of small, forgotten scars, but continues to stubbornly embody a stoic power for its functions. And I thought that was a pretty good description of my larger self, as well. I am become, all over, scARboi, stubbornly plodding along."
.....
"For better or worse, I am the subject of all my pictures, even those in which I'm nowhere visible."
-------------------
And Jessamyn, simply beautiful:
"I drive past a beaver dam on my way to work. It's in a little lake area and looks quite lovely, set against the foliage backdrop, very rural, picturesque. Today when I drove by I could see that it had new sticks on it. Someone actually lived there. This wasn't stunt nature, this was the beavers living nearby, and doing their beaver things. It's one thing to have a little tree sticking out of a sidewalk that provides some shade and stands in for the forests that used to be where the newspaper boxes now are...."
......
"I read a book recently about how to co-exist with wild animals. The author starts from the position that at some level, we have moved into the homes of the wild animals, so we should not be surprised that they see our territory as theirs. All of this is just a roundabout way of saying that I like living here, where the beaver builds its home within viewing distance of the road, and where the bear eats the fish that we think we can just "grow" for ourselves."
"I said in comments to someone else's blog a few days ago, that some months ago, I'd taken in a young dog, and had become aware that if his life expectancy is normal for his species, there is a fair chance he will outlive me; in other words, I'm no longer the middle aged guy I've described myself as being for some time, I'm a guy on his last dog."
.....
"But in the pocket microscope, I caught a glimpse of that old scar, and found it had a complexity and strangeness I've long ignored. In a strong light, I examined it freshly through the little lens, and looked anew at its spidery, faint contours, memories carved in my flesh of my own various stupidities, but a record I didn't control in its making, that is its own map of that day. I became momentarily fascinated by the rest of my hand, marked all over with the bad outcomes of accidents, investigations, and procedures or equipment not well enough understood. My hands are ugly enough at the normal scale, but examined a millimeter at a time, they are each a living horror, tolerable only for being abstract in their grotesquery, under a twenty power lens. After more than fifty years of living, I realized that there is no part of my left hand that hasn't been, at some time or another, at least superficially injured. That hand is literally one big collection of small, forgotten scars, but continues to stubbornly embody a stoic power for its functions. And I thought that was a pretty good description of my larger self, as well. I am become, all over, scARboi, stubbornly plodding along."
.....
"For better or worse, I am the subject of all my pictures, even those in which I'm nowhere visible."
-------------------
And Jessamyn, simply beautiful:
"I drive past a beaver dam on my way to work. It's in a little lake area and looks quite lovely, set against the foliage backdrop, very rural, picturesque. Today when I drove by I could see that it had new sticks on it. Someone actually lived there. This wasn't stunt nature, this was the beavers living nearby, and doing their beaver things. It's one thing to have a little tree sticking out of a sidewalk that provides some shade and stands in for the forests that used to be where the newspaper boxes now are...."
......
"I read a book recently about how to co-exist with wild animals. The author starts from the position that at some level, we have moved into the homes of the wild animals, so we should not be surprised that they see our territory as theirs. All of this is just a roundabout way of saying that I like living here, where the beaver builds its home within viewing distance of the road, and where the bear eats the fish that we think we can just "grow" for ourselves."
I'm Not That Adam Levine
Hysterical things like this make me love the net anew.
How else would we ever be able to listen to the answering machine of some random x dude in Los Angeles who happens to have the same name as the lead singer of super popular band Maroon 5, which again would remain unapparent to you and I, if we weren't here, but turns out since we are here, this is so freaking funny because of all the idiots who call random Adam Levine thinking he's "that" Adam Levine.
Well he's not.
Thanks to Brad Sucks for the hoot.
How else would we ever be able to listen to the answering machine of some random x dude in Los Angeles who happens to have the same name as the lead singer of super popular band Maroon 5, which again would remain unapparent to you and I, if we weren't here, but turns out since we are here, this is so freaking funny because of all the idiots who call random Adam Levine thinking he's "that" Adam Levine.
Well he's not.
Thanks to Brad Sucks for the hoot.
October 29, 2004
Endorse This
VOTE YES FOR WEBLOG AMENDMENT #344
__ It shall be illegal to use the term "I endorse" on any weblog, political or other, unless the phrase is used in complete jest or to point out the stupdity of bloggers who think they are all that and therefore have the import to endorse anyone or anything.
This is also known as the "Get Over Yourself Already" amendment.
Vote Yes on November 2nd.
To make the blogosphere stronger at home and respected again in the world.
__ It shall be illegal to use the term "I endorse" on any weblog, political or other, unless the phrase is used in complete jest or to point out the stupdity of bloggers who think they are all that and therefore have the import to endorse anyone or anything.
This is also known as the "Get Over Yourself Already" amendment.
Vote Yes on November 2nd.
To make the blogosphere stronger at home and respected again in the world.
Chuck-e-Cheese Shoe Analysis: A Historic and Demographic Study
I'm always amazed by the way my baby thinks. She's seven now, and her mind is exploding in her new school, which is good. She's challenged. Some stuff is finally "too hard," she says. I say good. It's about time.
We were talking today about how we went to Chuck-E-Cheese last Halloween to avoid the neighborhood hubub and have relative fun at a relatively safe place. She admitted to having a good time, but remarked that there weren't enoug kids for her to play with that night.
I objected. "Jenna, you made a few friends that night if I remember right."
"Well there were a couple. I knew there would be because of the shoes."
A stumped mom stared at her. "The shoes?"
She then explained to me the very logical -- if previously secret -- process she uses to determine the likeliness of friend finding on any given evening at Chuck-E-Cheese.
"I just look at the shoes. You know, the shoes we take off before we climb up into the tunnel. I always sit there and look through the shoes while I'm taking mine off. I can tell how many boys are up in the tunnel and how many girls, and I can tell about how old they are--if they're big kids or little kids. That's how I tell if I want to climb up in the tunnel and if I'll probably make a friend or not."
I remain dumbfounded. Even as of 10:45 this evening.
She's data mining from the shoe bin.
We were talking today about how we went to Chuck-E-Cheese last Halloween to avoid the neighborhood hubub and have relative fun at a relatively safe place. She admitted to having a good time, but remarked that there weren't enoug kids for her to play with that night.
I objected. "Jenna, you made a few friends that night if I remember right."
"Well there were a couple. I knew there would be because of the shoes."
A stumped mom stared at her. "The shoes?"
She then explained to me the very logical -- if previously secret -- process she uses to determine the likeliness of friend finding on any given evening at Chuck-E-Cheese.
"I just look at the shoes. You know, the shoes we take off before we climb up into the tunnel. I always sit there and look through the shoes while I'm taking mine off. I can tell how many boys are up in the tunnel and how many girls, and I can tell about how old they are--if they're big kids or little kids. That's how I tell if I want to climb up in the tunnel and if I'll probably make a friend or not."
I remain dumbfounded. Even as of 10:45 this evening.
She's data mining from the shoe bin.
I'm not a pro, but I can cook.
I made dinner at Shelley's IT Kitchen tonight.
You should see all the gadgets she's got in her junk drawer. I mean the whi... Ooops. I promised I wouldn't tell. Shit. Sorry, Shelley.
Read/write more on the IT Kitchen WIKI.
Thank you to Shelley for ramping up these seemingly impossible projects that make me want to stick around and blog for a while longer.
Props, babe.
You should see all the gadgets she's got in her junk drawer. I mean the whi... Ooops. I promised I wouldn't tell. Shit. Sorry, Shelley.
Read/write more on the IT Kitchen WIKI.
Thank you to Shelley for ramping up these seemingly impossible projects that make me want to stick around and blog for a while longer.
Props, babe.
The Crone Says Vote
Elaine's getting her vote on with a lot of informative links over on Kalilily Time. I'm clicking through the funny ones. And some of the serious ones too.
I hate this time of year every four years. So please read Elaine if you want to know what to do in the voting booth.
I hate this time of year every four years. So please read Elaine if you want to know what to do in the voting booth.
October 24, 2004
Gonzo Engaged, the oldest team blog on blogspot
I missed Gonzo Engaged's birthday on October 14th! SHIT! I'll have to send it a card.
Okay maybe a video.
Going strong since 2001. Or, well, at least going.
This one's for Marek.
Okay maybe a video.
Going strong since 2001. Or, well, at least going.
This one's for Marek.
I can't wait til December...
Because then I get to write -- for like the fifteenhundredth time -- Jo Ho Ho, Merry Christmas!
Which is made even funnier because David's Jewish. Just in case you didn't know. You know, like if you're from Alabama or something.
I don't know what it is about JOHO's name, but I find myself giggling in public places (escalators mostly) from the funny JOHOisms that pass between my ears...
Like, she not yo ho, she's Jo ho.
And, Jo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
And, Jo, Ho, fetch my coat!
Stuff like that.
Which is made even funnier because David's Jewish. Just in case you didn't know. You know, like if you're from Alabama or something.
I don't know what it is about JOHO's name, but I find myself giggling in public places (escalators mostly) from the funny JOHOisms that pass between my ears...
Like, she not yo ho, she's Jo ho.
And, Jo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
And, Jo, Ho, fetch my coat!
Stuff like that.
Locke and the Spammers Sittin' in a Tree
K-i-s-s-i-n-g.
Only The Man could make a case for spam. He looks at it like a nicely wrapped box of virtual canvases from friends and fans around the world.
As we say here in Atlanta, He Crazy.
Only The Man could make a case for spam. He looks at it like a nicely wrapped box of virtual canvases from friends and fans around the world.
As we say here in Atlanta, He Crazy.
Don't Try This at Home
Never never never ever, and I mean never, accidentally unplug an uncharged laptop in the middle of a Microsoft Service Pack Update. Okay, never. Got it?
This I did on Friday.
It was not a good day.
With perfect timing, the install was riddling through .dll files at the time of power interuptus. Sweet Mother Mary, that's all she wrote.
When I rebooted to attempt to pick up where I left off, I found that I was left off a cliff. My desktop wouldn't load. No icons. No status bar or start menu. Just a really nice picture of a landscape like one of those relaxation waterfall deals.
I'll save you the trouble -- save me the remembering -- of the last day, which included having to restore XP. Although I came up with a quirky workaround for copying my most important files (only one at a time--no ctrl key) over to my D: drive (I'm partitioned) using a combintion of techniques (task manager/new task/browse/click/ctrl+c/dropdown/D:/ctrl+v), I lost my email file and all my applications.
So I've been rebuilding. A little at a time. And it's safe to say that if I've ever emailed you in the past--like over the last few years--I don't know how to write to you anymore.
So, Hey. Hope all is well. Things are peachy over here.
night.
This I did on Friday.
It was not a good day.
With perfect timing, the install was riddling through .dll files at the time of power interuptus. Sweet Mother Mary, that's all she wrote.
When I rebooted to attempt to pick up where I left off, I found that I was left off a cliff. My desktop wouldn't load. No icons. No status bar or start menu. Just a really nice picture of a landscape like one of those relaxation waterfall deals.
I'll save you the trouble -- save me the remembering -- of the last day, which included having to restore XP. Although I came up with a quirky workaround for copying my most important files (only one at a time--no ctrl key) over to my D: drive (I'm partitioned) using a combintion of techniques (task manager/new task/browse/click/ctrl+c/dropdown/D:/ctrl+v), I lost my email file and all my applications.
So I've been rebuilding. A little at a time. And it's safe to say that if I've ever emailed you in the past--like over the last few years--I don't know how to write to you anymore.
So, Hey. Hope all is well. Things are peachy over here.
night.
October 22, 2004
Anyone Can Blog -- Even Spammers.
I've noticed an interesting if disturbing trend lately while surfing through my referrer log. In the last week, three times I've clicked on links I was unfamiliar with and ended up on what essentially is a spam blog. Post after Post entertains the readers with names of drugs, new marketing schemes, and keywords strung together in ways that only a good spammer can manage.
I'm trying to figure out how much this bothers me. First, it's smart. Gosh they're smart. With Google's crush on blogs, what better a way to get eyeballs than to work your way up over time by hammering the same spamola over and over, day after day, post after post.
Do they have some kind of automated tool that lets them start a blog and publish posts? If so, does Blogger need to authenticate that we are indeed "people" that push-button publishing was meant for? And, who's to say they can't play too. It's not really spam if we don't "receive" it. It's not spam if we click ourselves to the page. Yet the messages are the same ones we receive in email spam. It's the same game with a pull instead of push.
One reason they'll have a hard time getting value out of their weblog post spam is that they won't participate in the link factor that blog success depends on. Surely no one will link to them. Except maybe their partners in crime. And wouldn't that be oddly interesting.
Anyway, if you've noticed an increase in post-spam, let me know. Surprised me.
I'm trying to figure out how much this bothers me. First, it's smart. Gosh they're smart. With Google's crush on blogs, what better a way to get eyeballs than to work your way up over time by hammering the same spamola over and over, day after day, post after post.
Do they have some kind of automated tool that lets them start a blog and publish posts? If so, does Blogger need to authenticate that we are indeed "people" that push-button publishing was meant for? And, who's to say they can't play too. It's not really spam if we don't "receive" it. It's not spam if we click ourselves to the page. Yet the messages are the same ones we receive in email spam. It's the same game with a pull instead of push.
One reason they'll have a hard time getting value out of their weblog post spam is that they won't participate in the link factor that blog success depends on. Surely no one will link to them. Except maybe their partners in crime. And wouldn't that be oddly interesting.
Anyway, if you've noticed an increase in post-spam, let me know. Surprised me.
Getting back to me
We transitioned Jenna to her new school this week. As luck would have it, they are on early dismissal all week and out at 12:20. As luck would also have it, they start at dark-thirty in the morning, and I'm only sort of getting used to leaving the house before birds are awake.
Oh. My. Head. You could say I'm complaining. You'd be right. Because what is this? What is this with school's starting at 7-something in the morning? Have they not figured out that we're not raising good little line workers anymore? Hello school systems: Stop the torture. Embrace the digital age.
Anyway, as I said, we're getting used to it. Slowly. Jenna's as much of a night owl as George and I. Yes, we are strict about bed time. She'll bed. But she won't wind down easy. Won't sleep. Too much to consider. She's comfortable with the night. Like us.
I wish that I had the schedule, patience, and drive to home school her. Once again I salute all parents who make this choice and have the stamina to make it work. I am really beginning to believe that these are the children who will be best prepared -- with the flexibility required -- to succeed in the businesses of the future.
Since I started to "home work," one of the most lucrative and rewarding decisions I've made in my long and sordid career, I've gained a new perspective on how much sense it makes to integrate learning, working, moming, teaching and other activities with the help of the net. Yes, it's different. Even a bit scary. But it's also fluid. It's flexible. It's dynamic. It's networked. And it becomes inherent. Less work. More just living. It just IS how it IS.
And I know that's not what Jenna will get with public school education--or even private if we go that route. That's because communities are still not effectively educating children for the technology age. Sure, they have the tools now. Computers in classrooms. An extended intranet for parents. But that's not getting them prepared culturally.
We are not teaching adaptation, flexibility, movement, choice. We aren't teaching them to integrate like activities, to sort and schedule, to enjoy off time. The rigidity of the 7:20-2:20-don't-be-tardy-line-up system crushes any incentive for children to think and choose and understand what it takes to navigate the day responsibly.
The two years Jenna spent at Montessori were so much closer to achieving this type of education. But those type of programs are few and far between here--AND expensive.
On the positive side, I like Jenna's new teacher a lot. That will make a huge difference. She's positive, upbeat, and hard. Jenna's already complaining about the amount of work. Good. It's about time.
Her health -- I'm reluctant to say it outloud -- has greatly improved since being out of the mold building. More to say about that eventually. One thing at a time.
And at this time the thing is four motrin and a big glass of water because my head is killin me.
Oh. My. Head. You could say I'm complaining. You'd be right. Because what is this? What is this with school's starting at 7-something in the morning? Have they not figured out that we're not raising good little line workers anymore? Hello school systems: Stop the torture. Embrace the digital age.
Anyway, as I said, we're getting used to it. Slowly. Jenna's as much of a night owl as George and I. Yes, we are strict about bed time. She'll bed. But she won't wind down easy. Won't sleep. Too much to consider. She's comfortable with the night. Like us.
I wish that I had the schedule, patience, and drive to home school her. Once again I salute all parents who make this choice and have the stamina to make it work. I am really beginning to believe that these are the children who will be best prepared -- with the flexibility required -- to succeed in the businesses of the future.
Since I started to "home work," one of the most lucrative and rewarding decisions I've made in my long and sordid career, I've gained a new perspective on how much sense it makes to integrate learning, working, moming, teaching and other activities with the help of the net. Yes, it's different. Even a bit scary. But it's also fluid. It's flexible. It's dynamic. It's networked. And it becomes inherent. Less work. More just living. It just IS how it IS.
And I know that's not what Jenna will get with public school education--or even private if we go that route. That's because communities are still not effectively educating children for the technology age. Sure, they have the tools now. Computers in classrooms. An extended intranet for parents. But that's not getting them prepared culturally.
We are not teaching adaptation, flexibility, movement, choice. We aren't teaching them to integrate like activities, to sort and schedule, to enjoy off time. The rigidity of the 7:20-2:20-don't-be-tardy-line-up system crushes any incentive for children to think and choose and understand what it takes to navigate the day responsibly.
The two years Jenna spent at Montessori were so much closer to achieving this type of education. But those type of programs are few and far between here--AND expensive.
On the positive side, I like Jenna's new teacher a lot. That will make a huge difference. She's positive, upbeat, and hard. Jenna's already complaining about the amount of work. Good. It's about time.
Her health -- I'm reluctant to say it outloud -- has greatly improved since being out of the mold building. More to say about that eventually. One thing at a time.
And at this time the thing is four motrin and a big glass of water because my head is killin me.
October 21, 2004
October 20, 2004
Seriously Americans...
He does not see the relevance of the deficit, the future of social security, ethical issues involved in rebuilding Iraq, nor any topic that requires thinking outward to the next 10-20 years.
There is one reason and one reason alone for this:
The President of the United States of America believes that this world, this system, will be destroyed before these minor matters of state come to pass.
If you knew that your credit card company was going to be wiped out within a year, would you hesitate to charge what you needed? Especially if you had the "Almighty's" word that you were doing His work as you were spending?
Well that's how it is how it is. Right now. Today. In your White House.
You ask George Bush if we are living in the End Times.
You tell me what he says.
Then you wonder why he spends like there's no tomorrow.
There is one reason and one reason alone for this:
The President of the United States of America believes that this world, this system, will be destroyed before these minor matters of state come to pass.
If you knew that your credit card company was going to be wiped out within a year, would you hesitate to charge what you needed? Especially if you had the "Almighty's" word that you were doing His work as you were spending?
Well that's how it is how it is. Right now. Today. In your White House.
You ask George Bush if we are living in the End Times.
You tell me what he says.
Then you wonder why he spends like there's no tomorrow.
Oh David. Don't You Get It?
I have decided to educate David on how fundamentalist-powered political thinking works. Poor David. He seems so clueless. He makes the mistake so many people make when they are analyzing what makes the neoconservatives tick: He assumes they think. No no, David. The end-game is pre-determined. There is no critical thinking. There is only following the correct path from here to there.
Here I offer some Sunday School Classes for others among my readers who might not be so savvy about the interdependencies of holy wars, deficit spending, and eternal life:
Here I offer some Sunday School Classes for others among my readers who might not be so savvy about the interdependencies of holy wars, deficit spending, and eternal life:
From CNN today:
The founder of the U.S. Christian Coalition [Pat Robertson] said Tuesday he told President George W. Bush before the invasion of Iraq that he should prepare Americans for the likelihood of casualties, but the president told him, "We're not going to have any casualties."
I hope Kerry goes big with this, along with Bush's statement that he's not too concerned about Bin Laden. Daddy Bush may not have known how much a quart of milk costs, but sonny-boy's fiction-based presidency is getting us killed.
Posted by D. Weinberger at October 20, 2004 12:05 PM | TrackBack
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Comments
What he may mean, given the messenger and his recipient, is that we will suffer no casualties because those who fall doing the will of the Almighty (i.e. spreading freedom to brown people who deserve a shot at ruling themselves after they pay big kickbacks to large American corporations and surrender their natural resources) in this holy war be granted eternal life.
See David? They don't die.
Axis of Evil ---> Hell
Nucleus of Good ---> Heaven
You must have missed evangelical christian sunday school last week.
Posted by: jeneane on October 20, 2004 02:14 PM
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Aha! Thanks, Jeneane.
Now can you explain the religious math behind his deficit spending? TIA!
Posted by: David Weinberger on October 20, 2004 04:29 PM
----------------------------------------------------------------------
I would be happy to:
Deficits don't matter when you're expecting the return of your Lord any day.
You can't take it with you, so you might as well spend it.
The post-Rapture deficit doesn't count. God sets it all back to zero.
This is neoconomics. I am trademarking it. Any other mysteries you'd like me to solve?
Come On Google!
For the first time since 2001 I am seriously thinking of leaving Blogger and Blogspot--tools and folks I've supported and come to respect over the years.
I have a good bit of blogequity over here, but my initial fears and complaints about the recent changes to the user interface have come to fruition. Blogger is now officially the slowest tool I use. And I use a lot of software tools. Five times in the last 48 hours I went to create a new post, and got so frustrated waiting for the stinking 'create' box to open I gave up. My ideas were gone. I was readily pissed.
What, are they sending every potential post through IR and Crisis Management before the hit the Web or something? Is this what it means to go public?
I don't like losing my ideas.
I'm old. They don't come so quick anymore.
You're on warning, guys.
I have a good bit of blogequity over here, but my initial fears and complaints about the recent changes to the user interface have come to fruition. Blogger is now officially the slowest tool I use. And I use a lot of software tools. Five times in the last 48 hours I went to create a new post, and got so frustrated waiting for the stinking 'create' box to open I gave up. My ideas were gone. I was readily pissed.
What, are they sending every potential post through IR and Crisis Management before the hit the Web or something? Is this what it means to go public?
I don't like losing my ideas.
I'm old. They don't come so quick anymore.
You're on warning, guys.
October 19, 2004
Outsource the Musak Too
My last three calls to Earthlink convinced me that they've followed the lead of so many corpo-losers and have outsourced their support operations overseas. Where overseas I'm not quite sure. The accent of my last three friendly-if-not-able-to-help-me representatives rings East Indian.
I think that corporations could do all of us a favor. If they're going to outsource the jobs to India, they should outsource the on-hold music too.
I don't want to hear weather channel smooth jazz while Reg talks to his "senior representative." I want to hear sitar, damnit.
The best business models are the ones that turn perceived defects into great assets. They deliver value where you don't expect any.
So instead of trying to hide the fact that Reg is really Raj, and that he's working in Bangalore not Atlanta, why not slap some Indian fusion on the other end of my receiver, tell me about great tourist spots and travelocity packages to Kolkata, and broaden my perspective as you get my website reactivated?
Or start a referral program. Have Raj tell me that his company is the best at what he does and offer me a referral fee if I refer one of my big clients to them and a deal takes place? Next thing you know, out of work IT guys become brokers -- a kind of sophisticated outsource pimp if you will (or e-marketplace as we once called it) -- hooking up good Indian support firms with low-to-no conscience American companies for an affordable transaction fee.
Want ideas? I got a million.
I think that corporations could do all of us a favor. If they're going to outsource the jobs to India, they should outsource the on-hold music too.
I don't want to hear weather channel smooth jazz while Reg talks to his "senior representative." I want to hear sitar, damnit.
The best business models are the ones that turn perceived defects into great assets. They deliver value where you don't expect any.
So instead of trying to hide the fact that Reg is really Raj, and that he's working in Bangalore not Atlanta, why not slap some Indian fusion on the other end of my receiver, tell me about great tourist spots and travelocity packages to Kolkata, and broaden my perspective as you get my website reactivated?
Or start a referral program. Have Raj tell me that his company is the best at what he does and offer me a referral fee if I refer one of my big clients to them and a deal takes place? Next thing you know, out of work IT guys become brokers -- a kind of sophisticated outsource pimp if you will (or e-marketplace as we once called it) -- hooking up good Indian support firms with low-to-no conscience American companies for an affordable transaction fee.
Want ideas? I got a million.
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