The Adventures of Bloggard

San Francisco, 1980: I shanghai’d Richard W. and Derek S. to help me move from the third floor at 495 Third Avenue. I’d just rented the new office on Geary Boulevard for Network Answering Service, and I was going to live there in the back room.

When Derek showed up, he was yellow-colored.

Ignorant lads as we were, none of us realized that yellow eyes and yellowish skin meant hepatitus, and he really shouldn’t have been working. As it was, complaining of fatigue, he carried boxes of books down the stairs and loaded them into the borrowed van.

Richard and I sympathized by mocking him as much as possible.

But it became clear that he wasn’t doing so well. He started stumbling around a bit, but gamely continued. We were nearing the end of the job.

I had a nice ficus tree. Aside from it’s bad habit of dropping some leaves if moved, it was a happy little tree, and it was going to live in a new home. It grew in an elaborate chinese pot, very heavy.

In most any chinese grocery store in Chinatown or on Clement street, you will find “hundred-year-old” eggs for sale. They aren’t really a hundred years old, but they’re pretty old. They are black in color. I don’t know how they taste because I see no point in eating an egg known to be really, really old. But the point is that they are shipped from China in huge ceramic bowls. I’d bought this one for $5 from a grocer on Clement Street.

Derek grabbed the heavy pot of the ficus tree, and hefted it. He was doing pretty good till he tried to round the corner at the end of the hall, so as to get out my apartment door. But the tree had grown. It wouldn’t really go around the corner. Derek backed up, tried again, and was again balked.

He tried it several times, sweating heavily, using colorful language and expressions. Behind him, Richard and I, holding boxes, encouraged him to get a move on.

Derek stopped, thought, backed up, set the tree down, and turned to me.

“It’s your tree,” he said. “You break it.”

Adrienne and I will be scouting Northern California for a few days, investigating to locate a new site you might say. But fear not! Portions of this program have been previously pre-recorded. I will return to wondering what to say on the 17th. As always, your comments are welcome.

This is a simple law of nature, but one which is very handy:

If your offer sounds good, the human will wonder what’s wrong with it?

That’s it.

It’s human nature to worry if an offer sounds good. Since you know they’re going to do that, make up a “downside”, and make this downside clear in your offer. Anyone reading your offer will find this vastly reassuring.

For example, if you rent cars for less than the best-known brand, you might say something like, “We’re only number two, so we try harder.” In this successful ad from the 50’s, Avis pointed out that they were not number one. It was a drawback, freely offered, a part of the headline. Readers of magazines stopped, and thought, and decided that they didn’t care about Avis’s drawback, being second. Readers concluded that the downside didn’t matter, and then went out and, greatly reassured that they knew the reason for the lower price, rented Avis’s cars by the thousands.

Knowing this important secret of the universe, go forth and prosper.

San Anselmo, California, June 6, 2003:Adrienne will be dropping by the Department of Motor Vehicles, to renew her license, to take her pretty picture and provide a thumbprint.

She has an appointment for next week, but she cannot go to her appointment, due to the convenient DMV voicemail-appointment system.

It sounded like a good idea.

She’s a dogwalker, and sometimes brings playpals to visit our border collie, Tulip. Tulip’s best friend, a loud and brassy retriever, was visiting at lunchtime, and Adrienne thought this afforded time enough for eternal voicemail, so she called the DMV.

After selecting English and hearing important information about how they will monitor the conversation — what conversation? — she heard about their hours, and how to get to the place, which she passes daily when she’s working.

Then came another series of options: “Please press 1 to make an appointment … You have pressed 1 to make an appointment; is this correct? Please press 1 if correct, or press 2 if not correct, or press 3 to hear these choices again.”

Tulip and pal are standing beside her. Half their attention is on her — let’s play ball! — and half they’re scouting for intruder dogs on the sidewalk. Adrienne ignores them, frowning in concentration. The voicemail has reached an important point.

She has been offered one date or another date. She has selected one date. She has confirmed one date. She is receiving an Important Message: “Please have a pencil handy to write down your Appointment Code. You must bring the Appointment Code to your Appointment. Your Appointment Code is-“

A corgi and a ratty-looking terrier skitter down the sidewalk, dragging a young boy on a leash. “Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap!” exclaims Tulip’s friend. “Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow!” exclaims Tulip. The dogs scrabble at the window. The DMV voicemail, completely inaudible, drones on.

“-C45”, it says, “Remember, you must bring your Appointment Code to your Appointment. Thank you for calling the Department of Motor Vehicles. For information about our hours and locations, please press 1.”

So Adrienne cannot go to her appointment. She does not have her important Appointment Code. She’ll just have to drop by.

Sometimes that’s just how it goes.

Dave Winer sez:

“Consider the sequence of developments in publishing:

“In the 70’s, to run a publication, you needed a million-dollar printing plant, or you needed to lease time on one, to print and distribute your publication.

“In the 80’s, with the advent of laser printers, GUIs and desktop publishing software, the cost dropped to $100,000. So more people could publish.

“In the 90’s, publishing technology took off in a new way, all-electronic, and the cost dropped to a few thousand dollars.

“Enter weblogs, and the cost drops to hundreds of dollars, maybe even tens. If you want to do a publication, all you need is the time to write, and an idea to write about. The number of publications goes up every time the rules are rewritten. Now, factor out the non-publication oriented websites. Those are not weblogs. Everything else is.”

Some visitors may not know that I collect seashells. My collection is quite extensive. In fact, it’s so large that I cannot store my seashells at my house, and so I store my seashells on various beaches around the world. Perhaps you have seen some of them.