“I know some people think that blogs are conversations, but I don’t. I think they’re publications. And I think the role of comments is to add value to the posts. If you want to rebut a post, then you can create your own blog and post your rebuttal there.”
This makes a lot of sense to me. If there is ever an easy-to-implement version of Mr. Winer’s system, I’m there.
Leo Laporte has become disillusioned with social media and has returned to his blog:
“I should have been posting it here all along. Had I been doing so I’d have something to show for it. A record of my life for the last few years at the very least. But I ignored my blog and ran off with the sexy, shiny microblogs. Well no more. I’m sorry for having neglected you Leoville. From now on when I post a picture of a particularly delicious sandwich I’m posting it here. When I complain that Sookie is back with Bill, you’ll hear it here first. And the show notes for my shows will go here, too. Social media, I gave you the best years of my life, but never again. I know where I am wanted. Screw you Google Buzz. You broke my heart.”
This post resonates a bit for me. I like Twitter and Posterous and some of the other tools I use (a little or a lot) but I, too, fear they are a distraction to my first love, this blog. I gave up on Buzz early on and don’t expect to stop using Twitter (it feels like a completely different thing to me). But I understand Mr. Laporte’s frustration and decision.
My pal Keith pinged me this morning to let me know there was a problem with this website. I raised the hood to discover that all content (posts, pages, media, etc) was gone. Eight years of posts. About 5,000. I have a back-up from about 3 weeks ago, but still…
Not so long ago this would have sent me to DEFCON 5. But I’ve been reading about ego and how we become attached to and identify with things and ideas, and I found I was eerily calm. What if all my clever posts and the rest vanished forever?
I spent a few minutes considering this and realized they were/are nothing more than footnotes on a past that no longer exists (except in my head). What’s happening this moment is more important (and real).
What have we learned, grasshopper? That we are not our thoughts, OR our blog posts.
Scott Adams points to Newser to illustrate what he sees as the future of the Internet:
“Newser works, I believe, because somewhere in their back kitchen is an editor who has an uncommon feel for what stories to highlight, how to summarize them in a folksy voice, and in what order and combination they should appear. There’s some genius happening there. When I read news from other places, I often come away feeling deflated. When I read Newser, I always leave in a good mood. That’s why I return so often. It’s a mood enhancer masquerading as some sort of news site.
And that’s your future of the Internet. The cost of content, such as this blog, and my comic strip, will continue to approach zero. The art will happen with the editing. Others have made the obvious point that editing will be important for the future of the Internet. All I’m adding is the notion that most editors have skill, but few are artists. The world of print publishing is driven by editors who are exceptionally skilled. But they aren’t artists. Newser is edited by an artist. He or she isn’t giving me information; he’s adjusting my mood. That’s art. That’s the future.”
I don’t think I’ve ever visited Newser but I’m headed there now. Like thousands of others.
I’m back. And I wasn’t impressed by Newser but Mr. Adam’s point is a good one, nonetheless.
Yesterday I created a Facebook account. This is the third, possibly the fourth, time I have attempted Facebook. I say “attempted” because I have never quite “gotten” Facebook. I think I understand social networks as well as the next person but this platform has just never been a good fit for me. So why give it another shot?
A couple of reasons. One, I’d like to better understand why FB is home to half a billion people around the world. Two, social networking has become a bigger part of my job and I can’t properly support clients without a feel for Facebook.
Connecting and communicating with people you know seems to be at the core of Facebook. I send you a “Friend Request” and, if you accept it, I can see some for all of what you’re doing on Facebook, depending on how you have your privacy settings configured. If you don’t accept, I’m blocked.
I’ve had lots of conversations with Facebook users in an effort to understand it (without actually using it). A common theme goes something like this:
Jane is miffed that Bill refused to accept (or ignored?) her friend request. He doesn’t want her to be part of his online life and she’s not happy about it. She thought they were, well, friends.
In the next breath, Jane is explaining why she is getting creeped out by the co-worker who keeps sending her friend requests. The irony is completely lost on Jane.
Some Facebook users deal with this by just accepting all friend requests and ignoring the stuff from the not-really-friends. Others just ignore the requests.
I don’t plan on spending any more time on Facebook than is necessary to understand how it works. I’ll auto post from my blog, YouTube, Twitter and all the rest. So, there will be no shortage of stuff on my “wall,” but it all originates from somewhere else where anyone can see what I’m up to. But that’s clearly less convenient that seeing all within the Facebook compound.
How will I handle “friend” requests (assuming I get any)? I’ll probably ignore them unless we already have an online connection (and I probably won’t give you a kidney, either).
So I’m headed off to Facebook with the same enthusiasm as for my first boy-girl dance party mom made me attend (on Bill Wicker’s patio). I didn’t dance there either.
Co-worker Jeff shares the following story from the road:
On Monday I was flying from St Louis to Milwaukee. My flight was delayed by an hour, which obviously I was frustrated. When I landed in Milwaukee, I went to the Enterprise counter to get my rental car. There was only one person working and 4-5 people waiting in line. When it was my turn, I gave her my info and then was told to sit and that somebody would come and get me in about 20 minutes. I told her that I was running late and that I was actually supposed to pick my car up earlier. She said she was hoping that the 20 minutes was an overestimate. I was steamed. But really I was steamed about the whole travel experience. So I tweeted that I had to wait 20 minutes for my car at Enterprise and why would only one person be working on a Monday, which I assume would be a busy business travel day.
Their person did come and get me within 20 minutes like the counter person had told me. I checked Twitter before I left the rental car garage and I had a mention from Enterprise Cares telling me sorry and asking me to follow her so she could direct message me. She also gave me her name (Elizabeth). I was very impressed by that customer service. So I followed her and immediately I had a direct message from her asking for my contract number and pick up location. I tweeted that I was very impressed with that service and that someone from the company actually acknowledged me and my comments. I sent her my info and explained that my frustration had been compounded by the fact that my flight was delayed. Not sure what will happen but just getting a sorry was good enough for me. By contrast, I tweeted about my AirTran flight being delayed on the way to Milwaukee and on the return flight to St Louis and have heard nothing.
Elizabeth transformed a frustrated customer into a happy customer. She put a human face on a corporation. And Jeff now knows someone at Enterprise he can call (tweet) on if he needs something. Companies large and small are figuring this out. How about yours?
Mary Elizabeth Williams (Slate.com) has done better with Facebook than I but she’s much better at explaining why she’s ignoring your friend requests:
“When my friend list began to swell to unmanageable proportions, I found it increasingly difficult to weed out the dialogue with people I really liked from the random news from people I had nothing in common with. I relearned that some of them were really obnoxious. I was getting poked and superpoked and invited into mafia wars and invited to become a fan of people and things I was no fan of, all the damn time. As they say on Facebook, I unliked it. I unliked it a lot.”
“In the months since my self-imposed embargo, I’ve noticed how rarely new requests come with so much as two lines of introduction. Socializing is, for many, now a one-click affair — as easy as clicking Add or Accept. When someone does take the time to write a note, whether it’s a pal from the old neighborhood or a random reader, I write back. But I don’t want to collect names on a list like they’re seashells on the beach. So if we should meet at a party and hit it off, let’s have coffee or see a movie sometime. Let’s be friends in real life. And who knows? Maybe if it goes really well, someday, we can even be friends on Facebook.”
This is a thoughtful piece by someone who still likes many of the aspects of being on Facebook.
There are a handful of people I regularly read in an effort to understand what’s happening in the world: Scott Adams, Seth Godin, Clay Shirky, Bruce Sterling, William Gibson and Terry Heaton (I’ve left some out).
In this essay, Mr. Heaton explores what he calls the “second Gutenberg moment” we are experiencing:
“It isn’t technology that’s changing culture as much as it is the ability of people to act on long-held dissatisfaction. People, therefore, are the issue, empowered, connected and, yes, angry people. Nobody’s “in charge” of the revolution underway, but more and more people are realizing that if we’re going to fix what’s wrong, we’re going to have to do it ourselves.”
We’re sure to see some of that in November. And then there’s the question of who controls the knowledge:
“One-directional authority — especially that which is based in deliberately protected knowledge — cannot maintain control for long, once that knowledge is acquired and spread throughout its constituency. All that we know today in terms how we govern our lives will evaporate and be replaced by something very different in the decades to come.”
We see this in every institution: Busines, Religion, Education, Media, Medicine, Finance. I was certainly “guilty” of this when I was a Manager. Deciding what information got passed along and to whom. I still see it every day. But it’s getting harder.
Employees are connected. Nobody is walking around the office leaving memos on people’s desks. Email, Facebook, Twitter, texting… shit, the boss is often the last know something.
I’m confident I’ll be around for the disruptions to come and expect many will be painful, but necessary. I’m looking forward to them.
From Amazon: “For decades, technology encouraged people to squander their time and intellect as passive consumers. Today, tech has finally caught up with human potential. In Cognitive Surplus, Internet guru Clay Shirky forecasts the thrilling changes we will all enjoy as new digital technology puts our untapped resources of talent and goodwill to use at last.”
A few of my highlighted excerpts from Cognitive Surplus by Clay Shirky (more after the jump).
“The postwar trends of emptying rural populations, urban growth, and increased suburban density, accompanied by rising educational attainment across almost all demographic groups, have marked a huge increase in the number of people paid to think or talk, rather than to produce or transport objects.” – page 4
“Someone born in 1960 has watched something like fifty thousand hours of TV already, and many watch another thirty thousand hours before she dies.” – page 6
“…in the whole of the developed world, the three most common activities are now work, sleep, and watching TV.” – page 6
“Americans watch roughly two hundred billion hours of TV every year. … We spend roughly a hundred million hours every weekend just watching commercials.” – page 10
“As long as the assumed purpose of media is to allow ordinary people to consume professionally created material, the proliferation of amateur-created stuff will seem incomprehensible.” – page 19
“Imagine that everything says 99 percent the same, that people continue to consume 99 percent of the television they used to, but 1 percent of that time gets carved out for producing and sharing. The connected population still watches well over a trillion hours of TV a year; 1 percent of that time is mor than one hundred Wikipedias’ worth of participation per year.” – page 23
“In 2010 the global internet-connected population will cross two billion people, and mobile hone accounts already number over three billion. Since there are something like 4.5 billion adults worldwide (roughly 30 percent of the global population is under fifteen), we live, for the first time in history, in a world where being part of a globally interconnected group is the normal case for most citizens.” – page 23