There's a lot to be said for communities building their own visions of what a community should be. Visions of communities are of key value in the interthrust between content and funnel.
Take Rick Schaeffer, who puts forward a very incisive and interesting theory on brand management in a web 2.0.4 world.
"The way they call hogs is they say, 'Sooie sooie sooie sooie, pig pig pig pig pig,' " Schaeffer explained. "Why hogs are attracted to the word sooie, I do not know."
As you can see, if you're not 'the hog' you're the 'word sooie' and no-one wants that in such a fast-changing world.
A book I urge you all to read is the excellent Everyone Poops. The author, Taro Gomi hits the nail right on the head when he states 'Everyone Poops' because, as the world is slowly coming to realise, everyone poops.
By harnessing this belief and capitalising on the synergy, communities can take brands and brands can take communities and they can all fuck right off. The cunts.
Thursday 29 November 2007
Friday 26 October 2007
What the fuck are you looking at?
When I were a lad, a blog was called a diary. And they were rubbish.
Of course, the idea of reading someone's secret diary was a thrill - you'd find out their darkest thoughts and hidden desires. Every page would probably have your name written on in blood, such was this girl's infatuation with you.
Buy anyone who ever read someone else's diary will tell you it's actually as dull as fuck.
Instead of wanton passion, you get such gems as: "Had my tea. Findus Crispy Pancakes again. Beef." or "Brother Beyond were on Going Live this morning. They are so skill."
And blogs are no different. You either get some fuckwit who can't go a sentence without a LOL!, a bird who thinks she's deep because she posts black and white photos of her half-eaten meals and indulges in sixth-form philosophy about the relationships in her life, or you get blogs about blogging - fuck it, I'm boring myself just thinking about them. Let's just say that if all the bloggers knew half as much about the regurgitated bullshit they're spouting then they'd be too rich and rolling around in gold-plated whores to waste their employers' time updating their seldom-read blog.
And my blog will be no different. I'll probably never update it, but that doesn't matter, because no cunt'll read it. Why the fuck would they? Who gives a shit about this stream of piffle I've just written while waiting for a frozen pizza to cook?
So why am I blogging? Why am I talking to an audience that doesn't exist? Well, it's because I've been told that blogging is 'the most important skill I'll learn this century'.
Big fuck-off claim that one. Already this century I've learned to care for a newborn baby - but this torrent of twaddle is clearly far more important. I should have let her starve in her own faeces according to those in the know. I was going to take a CPR class next week, but fuck that shit, I'm a blogger now. Next time I come across a pensioner impaled on a railing, I'll give them my URL and tell them about the latest self-congratulatory webwank book I've just read.
Now fuck off and get on with your work.
Of course, the idea of reading someone's secret diary was a thrill - you'd find out their darkest thoughts and hidden desires. Every page would probably have your name written on in blood, such was this girl's infatuation with you.
Buy anyone who ever read someone else's diary will tell you it's actually as dull as fuck.
Instead of wanton passion, you get such gems as: "Had my tea. Findus Crispy Pancakes again. Beef." or "Brother Beyond were on Going Live this morning. They are so skill."
And blogs are no different. You either get some fuckwit who can't go a sentence without a LOL!, a bird who thinks she's deep because she posts black and white photos of her half-eaten meals and indulges in sixth-form philosophy about the relationships in her life, or you get blogs about blogging - fuck it, I'm boring myself just thinking about them. Let's just say that if all the bloggers knew half as much about the regurgitated bullshit they're spouting then they'd be too rich and rolling around in gold-plated whores to waste their employers' time updating their seldom-read blog.
And my blog will be no different. I'll probably never update it, but that doesn't matter, because no cunt'll read it. Why the fuck would they? Who gives a shit about this stream of piffle I've just written while waiting for a frozen pizza to cook?
So why am I blogging? Why am I talking to an audience that doesn't exist? Well, it's because I've been told that blogging is 'the most important skill I'll learn this century'.
Big fuck-off claim that one. Already this century I've learned to care for a newborn baby - but this torrent of twaddle is clearly far more important. I should have let her starve in her own faeces according to those in the know. I was going to take a CPR class next week, but fuck that shit, I'm a blogger now. Next time I come across a pensioner impaled on a railing, I'll give them my URL and tell them about the latest self-congratulatory webwank book I've just read.
Now fuck off and get on with your work.
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