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For a guy who’s given up on Brett Favre, I sure am trawling for schadenfreude about him now. Maybe I will start blogging GBP after all, Mike Cade.

Anyway, MacGregor references the Fates, seven-layer salad (no capitalization, Jeff – it’s not patented), Sisyphus, Tithonus and Quixote — and neatly skeweres Urban Meyer, hiding behind the curtain of his own vanity — in the course of framing the Favre phenomenon as something like Nietzsche’s eternal return. A piece built on a simple idea, but still brilliant. Money quotes:

In Hell, Brett Favre is doomed for all eternity to short that throw.

And I am consigned, century upon century upon century, to watch him do it. And then condemned — forever — to read and write about it.

We all get what we deserve, apparently.

and

Anyway, by comparison [to Meyer's hypocrisy], Brett Favre is as reliable as a German bicycle and his blindered devotion to his own ambition is appalling but refreshingly honest.

Thus does our NFL industrial complex have its narratives inscribed for the Super Bowl fortnight. The Saints will play for the 9th Ward and Bourbon Street and redemption, for le bon temps and love and loss, and the Colts and Peyton Manning will play for vindication or validation or in spiritual service of the Midwestern recession or rectitude or something.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter.

The cliché could just as easily have been the Jets’ four-decade resurrection, or Favre’s un-aging grace. The stories don’t even register in the face of all that spectacle.

Come the great moment two weeks from now, some of you will be happy and some of you will be sad.

This, thanks in some unknowable measure to Brett Favre, and to his myopic selfishness and his awful ambitions, his single-mindedness and his stubborn arrogance, his passion and his fortitude. Think of him then, we owe him that, in the moment of your joy or sorrow, his armor clanking and on the run, as old and foolish and beautiful as Quixote.

I didn’t say it made any sense. But it is nice for somebody else to call bullshit on the Whole Thing — not just Favre, but Favre as the metaphor and simulacrum for the perpetual motion machine of hysteria and amnesia and false drama that is sports today. Even if the next click just takes you right back to Rick Reilly.

(Image: Google search volume for the term “Brett Favre” by state, 2008-09. Graphic credit: DavidErickson/Flickr through a Creative Commons license.)

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“In retrospect, [Managing Director of FT.com Rob] Grimshaw said it was a ‘huge mistake’ for publishers to give away their product. So why did they?

“Grimshaw said newspaper publishers realized they did not understand the Internet, so they hired Internet experts and ‘let them do whatever they wanted and whatever they said was the right thing,’ he said.”

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…as envisioned by Forrester Research’s James McQuivey on PaidContent.org:

Make free content sell the value of paid content. But even in these free pages, find a way to let free readers know there’s more to be had, not just elsewhere, but even on those free pages. For example, at WSJ.com, comments can be organized to show only those by paid subscribers, thus eliminating a lot of the idiots who post annoyingly partisan comments or intentionally confrontational stuff. Some people would pay to become a commenter whose comments aren’t automatically marginalized. Others would pay to read only those who are willing to pay that price. Too elitist for you? Um. You’re The New York Times.

To sum up: People who pay to leave comments leave better comments than the rest of us.

It depends on how much one is required to pay, I suppose. But, confession: I’m eager to buy this idea  for a dollar. Or whatever it takes to reclaim comments as a real contribution to discourse again, instead of just a 5mph crawl on the Wingnut Memorial Expressway.

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Steve Rubel posted late last month about his dissatisfaction with RSS (”RSS today feels slow and it’s clear its best days are behind it. Feed reading, like blogging, feels ‘very 2005′”) and his yearning for a hybrid between RSS and Twitter. Twitter lists have killed RSS for him, but he still wants some filtering of the unfettered information firehose.

What’s interesting about the post are the comments — virtually no one there has moved away from RSS. A lot are moving back to it. Many are, if not abandoning Twitter, increasingly cognizant of its deep limitations as a technology for comprehension, versus one for the provision of notification.

I run a group blog that includes a daily curated content feature, and I’m setting up another one on my own. I can’t imagine doing them without RSS. Whatever Twitter can be, it is fundamentally reflexive and reactive — to the news, to your thoughts and queries, to your lifestream. It does not facilitate publishing, as much as we want to save microblogging as a distinct genre.

Now, you can’t talk to RSS, you can’t build a career around witty brevity using it, and God knows Google Reader gets a D for usability. But it is far less subject to the relentless beating of time’s waves than Twitter or Facebook. You can use it for a deep dive as well as skimming. You can read something published a week ago; you can save in a meaningful way; you can use it at the speed and shape of your own life, which I always thought was the point of technology. I don’t want a Twitter feed of Andrew Sullivan, which just flattens his ideas and their variety and their browsability, by which I mean their publishedness — I want Andrew Sullivan’s blog. (I also want the Times in the morning in paper, spread out on my kitchen countertop; and then later as an iPod Touch app, telling me what happened later. Both are technologies, you know — but both are far less subject to the whims of brute chronology.) All this seems obvious; and yet we now live in an age in which very smart people like Rubel talk about abandoning perfectly good technologies just because they feel old.

In the end, we might be able to chalk this up to the peculiar affliction of the social media expert. What Rubel might be getting at is that it’s too much trouble at this point to curate content through RSS, and that he trusts his colleagues’ and friends’ recommendations more than he does a raw feed. That’s fine for social media, the discourse around which has turned into a bizarre festival of novelty, braying punditry, self-helpishness, hucksterism and echo chamber, with a dash of utility (Rubel being a notable, highly useful exception). It’s not suitable for ideas, or soccer, or just about anything else.

Posted via email from Bob Lalasz: Surplus to Requirements

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http://www.1china1.net/

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He Can Still Hit a Homer Now and Again

by Bob Lalasz on November 18, 2009

in Content, Digital

Seth Godin: The reason they want you to fit in…is that once you do, they can ignore you.

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Seth Godin? Not So Much

by Bob Lalasz on September 17, 2009

in Content, Digital

At this point, Seth Godin is the equivalent of a horoscope. (Actually, I prefer Holiday Mathis.) Workplace angst is a renewable resource, and the Godin daily post exploits it, addictively — a chiding, bracing shot of bravery that turns out to be purely theoretical, vanishing five minutes after your first visit to the reconstituted coffee machine. But at least you don’t have to pay for it, right? Or go outside to Cosi?

And so a guru is born — sententious, hortatory, with a quasi-spiritual edge and a tone just short of condescending. Or maybe it is condescending, and that makes it more appealing, because you hate yourself too much not to crave his disapproval. Sort of like Hugh Prather back in the day. It’s morning again, and there’s another shot of Seth, perfect for that early morning clarity before the to-do list, when you really feel like you could break away and become…like him.

He’s written some classics — Be Careful of Who You Work For will rip you open every single time — but lately his writing just sounds like something Seth Godin would say, for fear of saying anything else and spoiling the franchise. Like he just decided to combine the last four things he saw online into a post, just to see if he could do it and still sound like himself. The Luddite insistence on sticking with Typepad, that Gandhian, ostrich egg of a head that just screams (or is it gleams?) “thinker” — suddenly no longer cute. Suddenly annoying. Funny how quickly that happened.

The uproar in the non-profit marketing world over his screed a few days ago against the timidity of non-profits is just dying down, and more diligent professionals than I have taken him to task. Suffice it to say that it’s breathtakingly dismissive and shallow and arrogant — everything Seth Godin was not supposed to be.

A tiny problem with the subsequent debate is that it’s still too much about the eternal breast-beating of non-profit marketers and not about the hypocrisy of Godin. There’s a video (above) of Godin talking with Tom Peters about social networks and media. In it, he says point-blank that Facebook and Twitter are worthless to business, a “useless distraction” to the business of building real relationships.

Fast forward to this week, and here’s Godin on his blog, frothingly mad at the failure of non-profits to penetrate the online space, saying that getting Dugg and being in the top 100 of Twitterers are ultimate measures of relevance and courage for charities. I’d like to show him the time-spent-on-site for the average Digg and Twitter referrals to my company’s site and blog…but they’re so small, he couldn’t see them, even with those big Swifty Lazar glasses of his.

And I shouldn’t have to show them to Seth Godin, anyway, right? Wasn’t he the evangelist for deep interaction? When did he get sloppy? When did he start posting about putting aside righteous indignation and then, a few days later, indulging in it so much? Was it all just another sell job? (Well, of course it was…)

There’s another video, too, from the same conference, in which he says something fantastically useful about the ethic of blogging

It doesn’t matter if anyone reads it. What matters is the humility that comes from writing it. What matters is the metacognition of thinking about what you’re going to say.

Close your eyes, and you can almost remember what it was like to hear Seth Godin saying stuff like that. And you believing it.

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