TinkerX

I used to really like the Encyclopedia Britannica. By “used to,” I mean of course, “before Wikipedia.” It’s a fine reference work, and I never had anything against it until they, and others, started getting smarmissimus about how Wikipedia sucks because it’s written by people who aren’t on the staff of an encyclopedia. And how kids shouldn’t be citing it as a resource. Etc. etc.

Now… I don’t want to get into a fight about Wikipedia. I don’t care if you like it or not or have issues with it. This is not an opinion piece. The fact of the matter is, Wikipedia gets waaaay more hits than Britannica. Maybe it’s because Wikipedia is free. Maybe it’s because it has lots more articles. Maybe it’s because people like to think that anybody (themselves included) is smart enough to help somebody else out with a reference question.

Maybe it’s all about elves and pixies. Repeat: I don’t care. From a marketing and sales perspective, yelping about how your customers are dumb because they choose a competitor is, well… dumb.  Britannica could hop about, get red in the face, and produce volumes of statistics about how it’s better. If users don’t have a compelling reason to go there, they’ll go somewhere else.

What Britannica *should* have been doing is figuring out a way to get more people into their space. Which they now have, with a very clever little program called Britannica WebShare. Basically, if you write a blog or publish on the Web in any way, you can apply for a free year of access to the entire online version of the Encyclopedia Britannica, and link to the full articles there.

That’s clever. Very clever. My readers now have an ancillary benefit from my blogging relationship with EB. If you’re a regular ol’ person with no subscription to EB (it costs $70/year normally), and you look up “Wikipedia,” you get this:

Wikipedia:  free, Internet-based encyclopaedia operating under an open-source management style. It is overseen by the nonprofit Wikimedia Foundation. Wikipedia uses a collaborative software known as wiki that facilitates the creation and development of articles. The English-language version of Wikipedia began in 2001. It had more than one million articles by March 2006 and more…

Wikipedia… (75 of 754 words)

But if you go to that same article from a link on my blog, even if you don’t have a subscription, you can see the whole thing.

Yep. All 754 words. You’re welcome.

Very, very smart. They have turned chunks of their content into advertising for the whole, and enlisted the help of people who build the Web to engage in that advertising. They get links and good marketing, I (and my readers) get full text articles.

This is a good thing to think about in a general way — how can other content owners release some subset of what they create/own in ways that promote an economic model that makes sense for them?

PS: If you’re interested in the full text of any particular Britannica article, let me know and I’ll work it into a blog post  

At work, I get to do some research about the information industry and related technology because, well, libraries are deeply involved in the mediasphere. So that’s cool. And last week I was reading up on teens (god, I hate the terms “tweens” and “screenagers”) and tech. And there’s a neat, very recent report from Pew on teens and writing, and another, older study from Fox about “Never Ending Friending” and a NYT article that asks, “Can Cellphones End Global Poverty,” another good report from Pew on the demographics of mobile data use, and on and on. Stuff about social networking, teens, mobile phones, games and media literacy. So that’s all in my head.

Then, this morning, I read Clay Shirky’s blog post, “Gin, Television and Social Surplus.” It’s good. Go read it and come back.

Clay is talking about what we do, as a society, to deal with radical shifts in culture. He gives the example of people going on a generation-long gin bender when the industrial age brought millions of people into cities. In order to deal, they got plastered.

Years ago, I read a similar theory about the pyramids. You had this ancient, Egyptian agrarian population that, like most of such, spent almost all their collective time farming and starving. Then some clever dudes figure out some basic math, engineering and astronomy, and put the knowledge to use to create an irrigation system that is N% more productive and reliable than the old methods. Whatever that “N” is, it provided a bunch of time that nobody new what to do with. So they built the pyramids. Partly as a program of public works… but mostly because they had a bunch of people with time on their hands and no idea how to spend it. They already knew how to build stuff… so why not build really big stuff!
Clay makes the point that TV has been sucking up brjillions of hours of our free time, and that we now have more choices about what to do with that time, many of which are creative, and that people like being creative, and so they are choosing things that are at least interactive as opposed to truly passive. Best quote of the post, imo:

However lousy it is to sit in your basement and pretend to be an elf, I can tell you from personal experience it’s worse to sit in your basement and try to figure if Ginger or Mary Ann is cuter.

That’s just so true it makes my teeth hurt [note, I actually enjoy both of the above, but the comparison is valid as hell].

OK. So we’ve got new media literacy. We’ve got participatory media and massive social applications. We’ve got mobile phones that are increasingly used as tools for digital participation, and are less expensive (than desktop PC’s with Web access) and thus more readily available to folks in lower economic strata, and that includes kids. That’s all in my head. Don’t worry… it’s a really big head.

Some people have said that participatory media is a move back to a time when people made their own fun and entertainment. Up until the printing press, if you wanted a story, you pretty much had to *hear* a story. News and history were participatory media. Until radio, there were no mass, single-source, culture-wide stations. Then TV came along. And we had tens of millions of people watching “Leave it to Beaver” and “Dallas” and and and and. I grew up in the middle of that. I joke that I had three parents: Mommy, Daddy and Teevy.

It was, and is, a cross between beauty and horror. I love, for example, that there are now hundreds of channels of TV. We watch all kinds of history, science, engineering, etc. programs with my 8-year-old son (Hooray for Myth Busters!). But he also watches Sponge Bob and  Avatar and other stuff (so do I, btw). Big budget media can produce some neat stuff.

Soon he’ll start typing in earnest. And then, I assume, will enter the mediasphere as a participant; commenter, responder, linker, writer, poster, photographer, videographer, blogger, cartoonist, podcaster, IMer… something. Many things. Some interesting, some meaningful, some trivial. Just like life.

And that, I think, is the major difference between the old, top-down media (TV being god there) and what we’re getting into now — it’s more like life.

I’ve taken to saying that my motto for the new, participatory mediasphere is “verbs over nouns.” Whenever you want to bet on a new trend or idea or technology, ask yourself… is it improving (or growing) something “noun-y” (stuff), or something “verb-y” (activities). The line that many of my (older) friends use about much of the new content on the Web (YouTube and journal-style blogs seem to be the favorite targets), is that, “It’s a bunch of crap.”

Well, yeah. But for the people who created it, it’s their own personal crap as opposed to a small piece of a giant load of crap dropped on them from 30,000 feet up that also hits a couple million other people.

It’s also useful to keep in mind that the pyramids, when looked at a certain way, are crap, too. Engineering marvels? Sure. Wonders of the world? Of course. But what have they ever done for you? Would your life be any different if the pyramids were suddenly not there? Or if they’d never been? The Colossus of  Rhodes went away in 226 BC. Do you miss it? I mean, sure… it would be cool to see. But I’ve never, once, in my life, said, “Thank God for the pyramids!” (as opposed to penicillin, steam power, the printing press, blues, chocolate, etc.)

How will we spend what Clay calls our “social surplus?” Will we make more friends in more places? Spread knowledge? Create great works?

I don’t know. I feel that it’s inherently better to do things that are creative and connected. That time spent creating even the “least of these” in terms of blogs and YouTube movies is better than time spent watching a rerun of (shudder) “Welcome Back Kotter.” But I also wonder if partly all we’re doing is creating many, smaller pyramids.

The nice thing, with the new media, is that we get to decide what’s important. It doesn’t have to be a centralized project like the pyramids or TV. And, just like with the printing press, I bet (as does Clay) that many smaller voices will add up to something more important than one, big voice.

I never watched the TV show “24″ when it was on. I’d heard the name “Jack Bauer” of course. Upon looking him up in the Wikipedia just now I was a bit surprised at the length of the entry (around 6,400 words)… The entry on George Washington has around 6,200 words, for the sake of comparative irony.

My brother, John, usually has similar taste to mine in media, and so, last year, when he highly recommended watching “24,” I thought I’d give it a go. Being that we were in the “Put something on your Christmas list or else!” timeframe, I added the DVD of the first season to my Amazon.com wish list. My lovely wife got me the first two seasons for under the tree.

After a couple weeks, we were both referring to my “24″-watching experiences as, “Andy’s TV crack.” The show is addictive, bad for you and messes with your head.

Today, I just finished watching the last episode of season 6, the last season shot/available. That means (math alert!) that I’ve watch around 115 hours (144 episodes x 80%) of  one show in about 4 months. Roughly one episode a day.

Now, of course, I didn’t watch one episode a day. Some days (like today) I watched four. I think the most I ever watched in one 24 hour period (ha ha) was six. I had oral surgery back in January, and it was very nice to just crash on pain meds and do nothing but eat mooshy food and watch Jack Bauer save the universe for large blocks of time.

I have mixed feelings about the show:

• I really like watching Kiefer. I have for years. I thought he was great in “The Lost Boys” back in the 80’s. I’ve always liked his dad, and some of that bleeds over, I suppose. He’s easy to watch. I find his style/look to be a kind of “corn fed danger boy” thing. The kid next door who owns guns. Lots of guns. My only problem with him in “24″ is that most of the lines are delivered in an anxious, urgent whisper. That gets old. He got a bit more pink-noise in the vocals in season six, which was nice to see (er… hear). I think he was a good choice for the role of Jack Bauer. If you’ve watched the show, try to imagine Charlie Sheen, for example, in the lead. Giggling ensues.”
• I am well aware of the whole torture issue. Jack’s character embodies the current administration’s idea that, under some circumstances, it’s OK to torture people because, well, you really, really need to stop the nuke from going off. To be fair, it runs both ways in “24,” as Jack and other good guys get tortured both by the bad guys, and by earnest good guys who think that Jack and/or others might be hiding info. To be more fair, torturing works sometimes and not others. Sometimes all Jack has to do is shoot a guy in the leg, and he gives over. Sometimes they do the whole pharma-torture thing, and get nothing. After awhile, I became used to torture as a minor plot development action that simply moved the plot one way or another. And (again, after awhile), I got used to Jack cutting people’s fingers off, electrocuting them and threatening to put out their eyeballs. I’m not comfortable with that situation — that I got used to seeing it — but there it is. After something becomes almost as much of a trope as the “there’s a mole on the inside” thing (see below), it just doesn’t have the same power to horrify.
• Apparently, there’s always a mole. Every season features some kind of situation where an American is aiding the bad guys. And, frankly, I can tell you why — the people who run CTU (the Counter Terrorist Unit where Jack works… kind) are idiots when it comes to their own security. There are all kinds of scenes where a person they bring in as a witness or friend or family member is allowed to wander around the facility. People who work there slip away to make phone calls in a little stone corridor off to one side. Sometimes these calls are overheard. Mostly not. But you think they’d learn to bug that little hallway. I don’t mind “Big Stupid” stuff like the whole idea of an international conspiracy to start a Middle East war and drive up the price of oil. That’s fine. But a counter terrorism department shouldn’t let people have their own, private cell phones in the office, and should be more careful about civilians wandering around. I’m just sayin’.
• The stakes are too f’ing high. You can have a fantastic, scary, tense movie where the whole thing that’s “at stake” is one person’s life, or even their career or morality. You don’t need to threaten the West Coast with bio-plague or nukes every damned time. Now, I understand, this is Tom Clancy-esque anti-terrorist stuff. But, seriously, there were seasons where Jack rescuing a friend was better drama than Jack saving 6-10 U.S. cities from imminent destruction. The other problem with “high stakes” is that the math ends up being really bad. [Spoiler alert] In season six, one of the briefcase nukes that Jack is chasing goes off in an L.A. suburb killing around 12,000 people + whoever dies later from radiation poisoning. And while further Jacksonian efforts to avert WW3 are in line with that scale, the rescue of one or two people just seems… trite… when you put it on the table with 12k dead. Jack saved the day for these two nice people? That’s swell. What about the whole town of Valencia that just when ker-poof?
• The cinematography and direction are really nice. Multiple shots at one time, the whole “real time” schtick… Nice work, team. In many ways, the direction and pacing are what makes the show so addictive. The acting is OK, and some of the writing isn’t bad… but it’s not very deep or, really, very different from season to season. Like candy, sex, cigarettes, crack, booze and Abba, it’s not really about the quality, but the intrinsic fun.

I’m glad it’s over, frankly. For me. For now. Maybe I can finally start blogging regularly again or read some more books or… wait… there’s a new season of Battlestar Gallactica.   Mmmmm….

Fascinating post titled, “Is the Tipping Point Toast?” at Fast Company. In it, author Clive Thompson focuses on work done by Duncan Watts (a Columbia U. network-theory scientist on sabbatical to do work for Yahoo!) that shows how trends move through society. Contrary to the work of Malcom Gladwell, who wrote “The Tipping Point,” and who posits the importance of “Influentials” in establishing trends, Thompson’s research suggests that anybody can be the “spark” that ignites a conflagration of popularity. In fact, one of his research projects points to the almost random nature of hits:

Watts wanted to find out whether the success of a hot trend was reproducible. For example, we know that Madonna became a breakout star in 1983. But if you rewound the world back to 1982, would Madonna break out again? To find out, Watts built a world populated with real live music fans picking real music, then hit rewind, over and over again. Working with two colleagues, Watts designed an online music-downloading service. They filled it with 48 songs by new, unknown, and unsigned bands. Then they recruited roughly 14,000 people to log in. Some were asked to rank the songs based on their own personal preference, without regard to what other people thought. They were picking songs purely on each song’s merit. But the other participants were put into eight groups that had “social influence”: Each could see how other members of the group were ranking the songs.

Watts predicted that word of mouth would take over. And sure enough, that’s what happened. In the merit group, the songs were ranked mostly equitably, with a small handful of songs drifting slightly lower or higher in popularity. But in the social worlds, as participants reacted to one another’s opinions, huge waves took shape. A small, elite bunch of songs became enormously popular, rising above the pack, while another cluster fell into relative obscurity.

But here’s the thing: In each of the eight social worlds, the top songs–and the bottom ones–were completely different. For example, the song “Lockdown,” by 52metro, was the No. 1 song in one world, yet finished 40 out of 48 in another. Nor did there seem to be any compelling correlation between merit and success. In fact, Watts explains, only about half of a song’s success seemed to be due to merit. “In general, the ‘best’ songs never do very badly, and the ‘worst’ songs never do extremely well, but almost any other result is possible,” he says. Why? Because the first band to snag a few thumbs-ups in the social world tended overwhelmingly to get many more. Yet who received those crucial first votes seemed to be mostly a matter of luck.

Yikes. The reaction of older music industry executives, in Watt’s words, was, “They were all like, ‘I think it’s bullshit. I’m still going to go with my gut,’” he recalls. “And I’m like, Okay, good luck to you. You’re going to need it.”

This reminds me, a bit, of the reaction of old-school baseball scouts in Michael Lewis’, “Moneyball: the art of winning an unfair game.” From the New Yorker editorial review:

The Oakland Athletics have reached the post-season playoffs three years in a row, even though they spend just one dollar for every three that the New York Yankees spend. Their secret, as Lewis’s lively account demonstrates, is not on the field but in the front office, in the shape of the general manager, Billy Beane. Unable to afford the star hires of his big-spending rivals, Beane disdains the received wisdom about what makes a player valuable, and has a passion for neglected statistics that reveal how runs are really scored.

Lewis wrote about how old-school scouts woud go out and pick players based on some basic, observed phenomenon — batting skills, running ability, etc. — and then go with, essentially, a hunch based on which ones looked “the best.” This is, to my mind, akin to looking for these Influencers that Gladwell and others insist are important to the hit making (ha ha) process. What Billy Beane found, though, was that all kinds of other stats were a better indicator of how well a player would perform as part of a team and contribute to scoring and, thus, wins.

I’m in a funny place, here. Because, on the one hand, I believe in the power of powerful ideas, influences and influencers. We’ve seen how trends can catch on based on support from a powerful patron like Oprah. But…

I’m also an old-school ad man. When I read about WoMM and how important it is to generate buzz… I can agree that, yes… it *seems* sensible. Let’s try to get people who have influence to be excited about your product. But I also know, from having managed hundreds of marketing campaigns, that when you do the same, smart, old, right stuff… it just works. All other things being equal, for example, I’ve found that frequency beats size in print advertising. If you have the choice of placing 20 half-page ads vs. 10 full-page ads… take the 20 smaller ones. Why? The stopping power of an ad isn’t important if nobody sees it, and people have to see your ad multiple times in order to even register the dang thing. Breakthrough creative is great… but you can’t budget for it. Make your ad solid, get the basics right, and flog it like mad.

There’s another post in here somewhere too… something about how the Wisdom of Crowds is more like the Random Influence of Crowds.

My title for this post reflects the possibility that while the Long Tail is great for finding interesting, niche stuff… the head of that curve is governed less by quality and influence than by… chance. If that’s the case, then chance favors the prepared, I believe. And being prepared seems to have more to do, if Watt’s is right, with playing to the bleachers as opposed to the box seats.

God, I love mixing metaphors.

Books and articles by Duncan Watts:

Watts, Duncan J. “A Twenty-First Century Science.” Nature. 445. 7127 (2007): 489.

Watts, Duncan J. Small Worlds: The Dynamics of Networks between Order and Randomness. Princeton studies in complexity. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1999.

Adamic, L. “Six Degrees: The Science of a Connected Age, Duncan J Watts.” NATURE -LONDON-. 6929 (2003): 265.

Watts, Duncan J. Six Degrees: The Science of a Connected Age. New York: Norton, 2003.

Watts, Duncan J. “Networks, Dynamics, and the Small-World Phenomenon.” The American Journal of Sociology. 105. 2 (1999): 493.

Kossinets, Gueorgi, and Duncan J Watts. “Empirical Analysis of an Evolving Social Network.” Science. 311. 5757 (2006): 88.

Citation HTML generated by WorldCat Lists. 

Revelations 8:11 (KJV) — And the name of the star is called Wormwood: and the third part of the waters became wormwood; and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter.

I’m not a scholar of Revelations. But I’m pretty sure this (link may be NSFW depending on WYW) counts as evidence of the end times*. Quotes from the review:

The play mechanics are simple. Prepare yourself by strapping on the included belt harness and jacking in your Wiimote. A series of toilets are presented on screen and the challenge is to tilt your body to control a never-ending stream of pee. Get as much pee in the toilets as you can while spilling as little on the floor as possible. Sounds easy eh? Well the toilets open and close whack-a-mole style and occasionally the stray cat or other cute critter pops up. Spray a cat for extra points…

According to the Japanese text on the box “Super Pii Pii Brothers promotes good bathroom skills and allows women to experience for the first time the pleasure of urinating while standing.” What we say is that virtual peeing is damn fun!

Up to two players can compete with dueling pee streams.

Wow. Just… wow.

*Note to readers with no sense of humor nor of irony: I don’t actually think this.

For the record, I think Kevin Kelly is a genius and often am extremely gratified to find him exploring weird, wild areas of technology and the mind. Even when I disagree with him, it’s usually on small points or on wording.

In his latest post on The Technium, though… I just think he’s wrong and oddly so, to boot. Read the post, so I don’t have to paraphrase it too much, here. It’s short. I’ll wait…

So, where is he wrong? Well, let’s start with the idea that computer scientists are more comfortable with technological change because, “They grok that many of the tasks they used to do can be done much better by computers.” Really? There are computers designing computers and writing code? There are robots building robots? I haven’t seen much of that.

What I’ve seen is that computer scientists use computers in their daily business, and that computers do more tasks than they used to. But not tasks that used to be done by CS folks. The scientists are doing the same tasks, just with more complex, robust and cheaper tools.

I also haven’t ever seen good art created by a computer or good poetry or fiction (or non-fiction, for that matter) written by a computer. But many artists, designers and writers absolutely embrace technology because the tools are just so flippin’ helpful. The writers I know love word processors, for example, and the spell-checking, note-taking, formatting functions now available. I don’t in any way begrudge my computer the ability to look up spelling much quicker than I did with a dictionary back in college. Yet there isn’t a computer out there that could, as of yet, write this blog post.

Same with designers. Those of you out there with a graphic arts background, especially those who have come-of-age in the last 15 years or so, will understand why “Photoshop is God” is a popular phrase. Does the computer do a better job at some mundane (and elegant) tasks associated with design? Hell, yes. Doing layout with InDesign or Quark Xpress is hundreds of times faster, easier and better than using the old paper layout methods. But a computer has yet to design a great piece of packaging or ad or children’s book illustration.

In some cases, I think this is the opposite of what Kelly is saying. As a writer (and sometimes designer), I have absolutely no fear of adopting new technology, because I think it’s impossible (or at least waaay down the road) for a computer to “do” what is at the heart of what I do: create. I’d put many musicians and film makers in this bucket, too. Again… I don’t see any films being made by computers, but the movie industry is moving the tech ahead in many cases.

And about doctors… I’m not sure what docs Kelly is working with, but most of the ones I know are huge tech nuts; they love they new toys. The digital distribution of records and labs is something they *rave* about when I talk to them. Scans of X-rays go on the hospital computer system and show up on the computer screen in the patient’s room, maybe even across town, in minutes rather than hours. MRI and CAT scan tech relies incredibly on computer power, obviously. Genetic engineering of drugs is almost impossible without computers. Maybe there are some good ol’ GPs who don’t want to computerize their bills… but I think this is a micro-example of a pain-in-the-ass system that nobody even likes the old way, so they don’t want to spend time on it.

In short… I think this is just a weird argument. When computer technology disrupts your job to the point that you are totally disintermediated –  take, for example, the guys at the print shop who used to cut film — you aren’t, I think, going to be thrilled about it… but, to be successful, you may have to get on board. But there’s a pretty decent chance you’ll go the other direction and be pissed off. On the other hand, if computers make your job easier, you’ll probably be OK with them in other instances, sure.

Oh… and I know some UNIX grey-beards who absolutely resent new computer technology. They liked being part of a small, elite band of brothers who understood computers when they were big and important and separate. Now that there’s a computer in my cell phone, and kids can mash-up aps on the Web, they feel a bit massintermediated.

Turing proposed a computer that was indistinguishable from a person in a conversation. In Kelly’s examples, he seems to be talking about our tech (computers in this case) besting us on particular tasks. Well, that’s been happening  since spear-throwers came along. John Henry died trying to beat the steam drill. I’d die trying to beat a spell checker. Just because I respect a tool’s ability to multiply my value doesn’t mean I think it’s likely to replace my value.

16 Gary Gygax Jokes we better not catch you making

1. “Quick! Someone cast Raise Dead!”
2. “Don’t worry – he’s just playtesting the Astral Plane for the next edition.”
3. “He’s gone the way of Star Frontiers.”
4. “Analysts warn of a free-fall in Mountain Dew futures.”
5. “In the next town, you meet a stranger named Barry Bygax.”
6. “Now who will lead our young people to Satan?”
7. “With his last breath, he cursed the name of Marlon Wayans.”
8. “I wonder how they’ll divide up his XP.”
9. “Pallbearers, make a Bend Bars/Lift Gates roll.”
10. “At least he didn’t live to see Disney’s Greyhawk On Ice.”
11. “Lorraine Williams is behind this somehow, I just know it.”
12. “The worlds of adventure gaming, fantasy fandom, and van painting will never be the same.”
13. “When I heard, I cried 2d10 tears.”
14. “Is there anything in the will about electrum?”
15. “Heart condition? Wow, I always thought it’d be owlbears that got him.”
16. “Suddenly, nobody in Heaven wants to hang out with Marilyn Monroe on Friday night.”

This is good:

And this is good, and makes the other one better:

Had a biz meeting in a local restaurant. Noticed that there was a painted-on window treatment above the big picture windows. You know… fake, painted valences. It occurred to me that “valence” and “painted” are words that do not get together often.  This restaurant had another couple fun painted, atmospheric effects, including a painted-on fireplace and bookshelf.

Which prompted the thought, “I hope the urinals are not trompe-l’oeil.”

Words that don’t get together much: “urinal” and “trompe-l’oeil.”

Probably a good thing.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled Internets.

If you haven’t seen Garfield Minus Garfield, check it out. Pretty amusing.

The number of things you have to know about culture, psychology, etc. in order to find this funny is creepy in and of itself. The deconstruction of a comic strip, minus its star, points to a public that is increasingly sophisticated when it comes to choosing how to read material at any given moment.

Question for the gang… is this funnier if you hate or love Garfield in its original state?

After more than a year, JotSpot (bought by Google that long ago) has come out from behind the gCurtain and has reemerged as Google Sites.

I blogged the Google purchase of JotSpot back in November of 2006; I called it the “2nd wiki that Google bought.” Writely (the engine for Google Docs) being the first.

So… now you can use Google to create not just pages that you can view (iGoogle), but pages that you can share with everyone. Visitors can view the pages, registered users can create/edit stuff. [I’ll have a better review of the functionality after I get a Google Site up and running]

So what? So you can now use Google to search, create docs, create Web pages, share stuff, etc. etc. Nothing new here, right? These aren’t the droids you’re looking for…

Maybe they are.

I keep pointing people to this essay by George Dyson on Edge. In it, he says:

The books that have been written are easy. They represent the collective memory and imagination of mankind, and the technical resources now exist to deliver The Complete Works of Homo Sapiens, Unabridged. Who can argue against this? It is the realization of every librarian’s dream — unless you harbor suspicions about who is going to need librarians once the Universal Library has digested all the books… The Universal Library promises us a repository for the souls of all existing books — and the resurrection of all titles that have gone extinct. And the books that have not been written yet?

Emphasis mine.

The biggest library in the universe is the one of those works as yet to be written. Every year the Web sees the creation of more content than exists in the Library of Congress. I don’t want to discuss the relative value of those materials at this point. I’m just noticing that lots of people are adding lots of new stuff to “The Library” all the time.

And now Google has pushed out another service by which that content can be… manipulated? Captured? Serviced? Advertised? Searched? OK… whatever you want to call it. You can do it on Google.

So what? Some will ask. I can create a Web site on MySpace or WordPress or with a free, generic tool and a couple bucks on GoDaddy. It’s not that what Google is doing with Google Sites is particularly unique, it’s that it’s doing it in conjunction with everything else.

Creation, too, has a much bigger brand footprint than search, advertising, etc. When you create something, you put yourself into it. The Web becomes more “yours” when you create a Wikipedia entry or post a YouTube video. Or if you create a site with Google.

No prognostication on this post. Just observation. The world’s mightiest search/advertising engine is now even further into the business of creativity as well as findability. It’s the printing press for the Universal Future Library as well as the table of contents and advertiser.

It takes love over gold nd mind over matter
to do what you do that you must
when the things that you hold can fall and be shattered
or run through your fingers like dust.

Dire Straits, “Love Over Gold”

Kevin Kelly wrote a great post recently titled, “Better than Free.” In it, he makes the point that, “…when copies are free, you need to sell things which cannot be copied.” He asks the question, “…why would we ever pay for anything that we could get for free? When anyone buys a version of something they could get for free, what are they purchasing?” He then goes on to list eight “generatives” (because they generate value) that are “better than free.” They are (and I’m going to shorten his description of each, and add my own little parenthetical tag that will make sense in a minute):

• Immediacy – Sooner or later you can find a free copy of whatever you want, but getting a copy delivered to your inbox the moment it is released — or even better, produced — by its creators is a generative asset. [Get something for less of your time]
• Personalization — A generic version of a concert recording may be free, but if you want a copy that has been tweaked to sound perfect in your particular living room — as if it were preformed in your room — you may be willing to pay a lot… As many have noted, personalization requires an ongoing conversation between the creator and consumer, artist and fan, producer and user. It is deeply generative because it is iterative and time consuming. You can’t copy the personalization that a relationship represents. [Get something better that someone else has spent time on]
• Interpretation — As the old joke goes: software, free. The manual, $10,000. But it’s no joke. A couple of high profile companies, like Red Hat, Apache, and others make their living doing exactly that. They provide paid support for free software. [Experts save you time]
• Authenticity — You might be able to grab a key software application for free, but even if you don’t need a manual, you might like to be sure it is bug free, reliable, and warranted. You’ll pay for authenticity. There are nearly an infinite number of variations of the Grateful Dead jams around; buying an authentic version from the band itself will ensure you get the one you wanted. Or that it was indeed actually performed by the Dead. [Don’t waste time on fake crap]
• Accessibility – Ownership often sucks. You have to keep your things tidy, up-to-date, and in the case of digital material, backed up. And in this mobile world, you have to carry it along with you. Many people, me included, will be happy to have others tend our “possessions” by subscribing to them. [Timeliness]
• Embodiment — At its core the digital copy is without a body. You can take a free copy of a work and throw it on a screen. But perhaps you’d like to see it in hi-res on a huge screen? Maybe in 3D? PDFs are fine, but sometimes it is delicious to have the same words printed on bright white cottony paper, bound in leather. Feels so good… The music is free; the bodily performance expensive. This formula is quickly becoming a common one for not only musicians, but even authors. The book is free; the bodily talk is expensive. [This is a red herring as far as this discussion goes… more on that in a moment]
• Patronage — It is my belief that audiences WANT to pay creators. Fans like to reward artists, musicians, authors and the like with the tokens of their appreciation, because it allows them to connect… The elusive, intangible connection that flows between appreciative fans and the artist is worth something…. There are many other examples of the audience paying simply because it feels good. [patronage is based on the emotional/brand connection between buyer and seller; another red herring on this list, I think]
• Findability — Where as the previous generative qualities reside within creative digital works, findability is an asset that occurs at a higher level in the aggregate of many works. A zero price does not help direct attention to a work, and in fact may sometimes hinder it. But no matter what its price, a work has no value unless it is seen; unfound masterpieces are worthless. [Findability = value in less time]

What I noticed about Kelly’s list when I first read it is that all but two of these “generatives” map to some kind of time value as opposed to product value. And I believe that the two “red herrings” I noted above, while indeed “better than free,” aren’t related to the digital world, which is what Kelly’s main (and excellent) point is about. I think he should lose those two from the list. Why?

“Embodiment,” is actually the idea of something having a tangible, “non-free” value, without regard to the content, per se. I can create the wonderful, creamy, cottony book experience for an absolute crap novel, and the physical value of the leather, paper, gold trim, etc. will be the same as if I print a book I love the same way. Any value I place in the book I love vs. the crap novel is the same value that differentiates a free, digital copy of the two works.

Second, “patronage” is a value that works as well (or maybe even better) in the physical world as it does in the digital. The idea that a digital copy I pay an artist for, in order to support their work, has more value to me than one I steal is, indeed, true. But you cannot separate out the value of patronage from the overall value of the work, digital or otherwise. Users will get no “patronage value” from a piece of work that they detest. And they may, in fact, have a negative patronage experience if they support an artist, and then are burned by a bad product. In short, what I think I’m trying to say is, patronage only works as a value if someone was going to value something anyways.

So… of the eight, six are, I think, pretty directly related to the value of time. I’ve been talking about this with my advertising students for a couple of years now. In order to understand the history of advertising, you have to start with a point in time when there was almost *no* advertising. And why was there no advertising? Because people made almost everything they needed, and had very access to cash. In that environment (which accounts for most of the last 10,000 years of civilized-ish human economic history), real value almost always devolves to land, in one form or another. You live on the land, get your food from it, get wood and coal and metals from it, get water there, etc. etc. You can’t have a king without a kingdom, and the “dom” is the land.

Over the last 150 years or so, though, we’ve moved away from land-as-root-value. Yes, it’s still there, of course. As the man said, real estate is a good investment because they ain’t making any more of the stuff. But more and more frequently, those things with the most value have little connection to real property.

One definition of wealth I heard years ago and really liked was, “Wealth is a measure of excess food.” Right. If you have to spend 100% of your time hunting/gathering in order to barely survive, you are as poor as you can be and not be dead. Better control/ownership of the land and its uses provides better/more food for people, allowing them to do things like invent even better farming tools/techniques, be artists, lawyers, teachers, etc. The wealthier a society is, the less time/effort per capita is spent on food, giving people more time to do other stuff that can add to the quality of life.

Did you notice how we moved into “time” as a value even in that discussion? Society (everybody doing something) needs to produce food, or we die. Less time spent on food = more time for fun, games, medicine, music, etc. As soon as somebody figured out how a horse can plow the same plot of land and get more food off’n it, the equation changed from “land is the basis of all wealth,” to “technology that improves the land use is a good thing, too.”

Back to Kevin’s list. And to a discussion on Terra Nova about whether or not the theft of virtual items counts as theft. When we pin all our ideas about possessions, wealth, etc. on “stuff” (like land), then the idea of virtual theft is absurd. Of course the owner/publisher of the game can just “undo” the theft instance and give us back our virtual thing-a-ma-bob. That’s not the point. I’m not paying the publisher (or the advertiser) in order to have access to things; I’m “spending my time.” And that’s a phrase that, now, I think is hugely significant.

We live in an age when food is almost free. Or course, this is only true in those societies engaged in the kind of digital economics that Kevin talks about. Very few areas where starvation is a real issue are in any way worried about digital piracy and the value of free copies of content. But for those of us in the “Internet World,” food is very, very cheap; about 10-15% of household income for those of us in the middle class. And since most of us don’t rely on investment income from real estate (or other tangibles), but on wages… time, in a very real sense, ends up being equal to money for us.

But… that value may not be fungible, depending on how you measure it. If you peg your time back to your salary/wage, you end up with a dollar-per-hour calculation that can easily be compared to that of everyone else. Right? Fred makes $20/hour and Grace makes $40/hour, so her time is worth twice as much as his.

Or is it? Grace’s time is worth twice as much to the economy that determines wages based on the service provided. But is it worth twice as much to society in general? Or to their families? Suppose, after work, Fred spends 20 hours a week tutoring kids who need extra help with reading. He does this for free. Grace, on the other hand, watches TV. Nothing wrong with that. But aside from their hours spent working, can we say that an hour of Grace’s time watching the Food Channel is as valuable to society as an hour of Fred’s time improving the minds of our youth?

And, regardless of the value to society, can anybody but Fred or Grace determine the value of any given activity relative to their own time spent? And another and… can anyone place a value on time spent doing things that are universally acknowledged as having personal value, such as playing with one’s kids, going to church, loving up your honey, etc.? Meaning, is one hour of Grace’s time spent with her family any more or less valuable to her than an hour of Fred’s time spent with his?

We need a new way to think about value when much of what we are concerned with is how we spend our time, rather than how we spend our money. Kevin points out, wisely, that there are things we can do to add value to digital stuff that is easily copied. My view is that most of those “generative” qualities map to relative time-value of various activities. I value…

• Immediacy – Getting something in less time
• Personalization — Getting something someone else has spent time matching to my needs, rather than having to spend that time myself
• Interpretation — The time of experts
• Authenticity — Not wasting my time on stuff that will suck
• Accessibility – Being able to get something at any time
• Findability — Spending less time looking for something

In regards to virtual theft, then… someone who steals my virtual “stuff,” is actually robbing me of immediacy (if I can’t use it when I thought I could), authenticity (the “magic circle” of me thinking of my stuff as mine), accessibility (I can’t use it when I want), and “findability” (I may have to go back to the publisher for a new copy).

When I spend time on a digital asset, I’ve assigned value to it relative to anything else I might have done with that time. When somebody/something requires that I spend more time on something, they’ve robbed me. Thus, DRM that requires me to spend time fiddling around with various protection schemes is robbing me of my time-currency in order to help protect the digital security of some content. The fact that a song I buy on iTunes can’t be used on all my devices is a theft of immediacy, findability and accessibility.

Time is the new gold. We should work on ways of assigning and evaluating time-value that aren’t rooted in dirt, food and metals.

If you’ve never seen the blog Indexed, you need to. Funny, smart stuff. I need some help with a Venn Diagram relating to the following:

1. People on whom this video would have a positive voting effect
2. People who watch YouTube
3. People who vote

I’m pretty sure that #1 and #2 don’t touch at all. I can’t imagine anyone with even the marginal hipness and tech savvy required to find YouTube thinking anything other than “Lame-o!” about this piece. It’s a video made for the over 50 crowd who think that Kenny G. is actually jazz, and that Celine Dione has a message.

Sorry. I’ve got a bad cold. Makes me snarky.

I am a little world made cunningly
Of elements and an angelic sprite,
But black sin hath betray’d to endless night
My world’s both parts, and oh both parts must die.
You which beyond that heaven which was most high
Have found new spheres, and of new lands can write,
Pour new seas in mine eyes, that so I might
Drown my world with my weeping earnestly,
Or wash it, if it must be drown’d no more.
But oh it must be burnt; alas the fire
Of lust and envy have burnt it heretofore,
And made it fouler; let their flames retire,
And burn me O Lord, with a fiery zeal
Of thee and thy house, which doth in eating heal.

John Donne, The Holy Sonnets

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There is an interesting discussion going on over at Terra Nova about the blurring of lines between virtual worlds and social networking spaces. This discussion is not new.

Is the distinction between “social networking space” (MySpace and Facebook being the current exemplars) and “virtual world” important? In a comment on the current post, Richard Bartle says:

10 years ago, an avatar was a graphical representation of a character in a virtual world. Textual worlds didn’t have a need for the concept, but graphical worlds did, so it arrived. However, the term was so often misused by people new to virtual worlds that nowadays the default meaning of “avatar” is “character”. This leaves a hole for what we had before as “avatar”, which seems to being filled by “toon”. The result is, though, that there’s a weaker connection between player and character.

I agree.

The fact that some similar things can happen in a virtual world and on a social networking site doesn’t mean that one is the other. And while mash-ups and APIs will almost certainly begin to overlay virtual worldiness onto social sites (and vice versa), there comes a point at which you have to say, “This, here, is a virtual world… and that, there, is not.”

Why should there be a distinction? I’ve argued recently that getting up into a user’s perceptual values is less than helpful. That people should be allowed to make, use, comment on and experience media in as many ways as possible, and in as many ways as they like. I’m not changing that stance here. I’m not arguing that many of the experiences on a social networking or in a virtual world are better or worse because of their location. Nor am I arguing against putting more social features into virtual worlds, or more worldiness into social spaces. Mashing is good for the system.

What I am saying, though, is that there is a line between communication and the sharing of experience. The threshold may be different for some people, but if there is little (or no) sharing of experience, I don’t think a space can be called “a world.”

This is not meant to be platform restrictive, either. You and I can build a virtual world together using email. I’ve played text RPG games via email where the players and game master built marvelously complex and rich worlds together. And while the entire experience was communicative, it wasn’t *only* communicative. If you asked any of the players about their characters, they would be able to describe not only the actual experiences of the game… but possibilities they considered and rejected, places that were only mentioned briefly in the text but were more meaningful in their minds, and relationships between characters that were “felt” rather than explicit.

Can any of this happen on, let’s say, Facebook? Well, someone could write a text RPG plugin for Facebook, certainly. And just like we played it using various email clients, the participants could have a great, text RPG experience using that plugin.

What that means, however, is not that Facebook is a virtual world. But that it hosts one. Our play-by-email games weren’t “the world of email.” They were the words of email, describing a world that could have been built using speech around a table, snail mail or a wiki.

To be blunt, the “virtual world” was embodied in the technology of text.

Facebook can host text, yes. So can MySpace. But they do other things, too. They are — and this is the main point of my longwindedness — in THE world. They can support or host virtual worlds, but they can’t BE one.

In contrast, Second Life or World of Warcraft are worlds. Why? Because when people interact there, it has to be “there.” They are together in an activity that is separate from the real world in at least one environmental sense.

Need more of this.

If I sell 18 more of these

(I just sold two to a lovely lady in England)

I can get one of these. And I really, really, really want (note: in no way need) one of these.

Because I want to be able to do this…

NSFW links here, folks. If you haven’t seen these (5 so far), do so. They’re hilarious. First one below in frame. Links to 2-5 below that. Seriously. Watch these. You don’t have to be interested in Photoshop. Headphones recommended if you like to watch NSFW stuff @W.

2   3   4   5

[Edit 2/1/08: This has been taken down. Link below now leads to somebody else’s posting of the pic. Too bad.]

Just awesome. See the whole Flickr set. I could lay down some pseudo-intellectual crap about mash-ups and the convergence of technology, culture and past culture. Something about zeitgeist and… nah. Just enjoy ‘em ’cause they funny.