Airbag Industries

Rumsfeld.

Yes, it’s going to be different this time. Way different. Nobody is chasing after the IPO dream today, no sir, we learned our lesson from just six years ago, and never-you-mind that my neighbor was just seeded $1.3M because he manages his family with Basecamp through Bootcamp using Ubuntu installed on his MacBook so he can blog about it all with a pagerank of six. Six! KAAAHN!

Forget that five hundred versions of the same five freaking apps were made yesterday afternoon because everyone has it in their head that a web application is their ticket out of the mundane who-the-hell-are-you-world. Subscription and advertising revenue equals power boats, cars with manual transmissions, and H-A-double-pimpin’-W-T Apple gear with thirty diagnoal inches of monolithic binary glow. The future is here! We’re not going to crash because everyone gets a vote today, not just the hedge fund managers. What’s really important to world is being dictated by crowds of fourteen year olds who gesture thumbs-up or thumbs-down Roman style because the hyperlink in and out means favor from Google and it is as Google says: The meek will inherit seven-to-eight figures—you just have to blog, a lot. Oh and you have to NASCAR the hell out of your life because there is no whitespace in our new post-stock-market-crazed click-through commerce world.

Speaking of which, just yesterday I read that the President is going to install a ‘post this to Digg’ button on the side of the building because Karl Rove knows that’s one system that he can game without having to pander to the will of the American people. Seriously, do you know how much whitespace is on the Whitehouse?! Forget oil, we’ve got untapped ad space that will make the Super Bowl blush. You don’t have to be a Diggenius to figure this one out. Give Washington to a professional blogger and they’ll know it how to monetize ever-y-freaking-inch using “a-synchornicity” and “feeds”. Before you know it we’ll be able to buy back the deed to America from our Chinese owners using this “new” sleep-revenue generated by money from male enhancements, card gambling, and that stupid duck no one can ever “shoot” that ends up being an ad for a life insurance through a subsidiary of a company that works in upstate New York but enjoys the tax benefits of doing business out of a single manilla folder in the Bahamas.

You who think this is new, virgin landscape of binary destiny–because this time it’s different, no really!—are in for a shock but keep pushing forward. Don’t look back, don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t do it because if mom says you sing like an angel then who are we, the people who actually have to listen to you and click through your crap, who are we to tell you that the blue bird of talent never pecked you on the head, that you’re just like everyone else who wears clothing on cold days?! Go, be unique! But not too unique, I mean at least eighty percent of what you do needs to be like something else that already exists because otherwise it’s not a mash-up. And without the mash you don’t get cash. See how easy that is?! Before the only thing we had was mix tapes but nobody made money off mix tapes or has their face hedcut-stippled for the front page of the Journal because of it.

Let me tell you something, I’ve seen it all since before Netscape was even a glint in some venture capitalists eye and If I know anything it’s this, the Internet is not a truck, it’s a freaking freight train packed full of idiots. But never mind me, I just work here and I’ll still be here long after the second wave of hysteria has passed and the money has a taste for pork bellies.

While I’m at it, so long Donald and thanks for all the wars.