We should all be very concerned that the Detroit motor car manufacturers are asking the U.S. government for $50 billion of bailout funding.
No, not because these are companies that may have deliberately held back the production of cars that might have wrecked our planet just a little less over the last, say, 30 or 40 years. No, no. These are companies on whom millions of people rely, many of them living in Michigan. A mass exodus from Michigan might not be a good thing for the rest of America.
It strikes me, and perhaps it has struck you too, that another question to ponder in these circumstances is whether there would ever be funds available for tech companies that encountered difficult commercial times.
Tech companies may not be investment banks. Their employees may not reside in New York's Westchester County and Connecticut. But surely, they represent the future of American profitability even more than do those organizations that make paper money or four- and six-wheelers.
Tech companies might find ways to make cars fly, for example, a far greater advance than anything the motor industry has marketed to the last few generations. So it is surely worth looking around to see whether there might be Silicon Valley companies that the new administration could begin to support now.
I know some feel that Yahoo is not in the finest of shape. But I have been recently moved to consider whether Facebook might not be an ideal candidate for government support.
There are whisperings, some surely motivated by the greenest of envies, that Facebook is not making an enormous amount of money. TechCrunch's Michael Arrington raised the alarm in a most cogent way very recently, suggesting that advertising revenues were not all they might be.
And Facebook's Mark Zuckerberg was alarmingly (or laconically, depending on your perspective) unisyllabic on the subject when interviewed by John Battelle last week.
But why should a brand as vital to world psychology as Facebook have to rely on something so ephemeral as advertising? About 125 million people now rely on Facebook. How many single brands can claim that 125 million people rely on them every day?
It may be true that Facebook users rely on it principally for their self-worth. But what are we if we are not able to clutch at our self-worth every day to stay afloat? Indeed, there are those who are convinced that Mark Zuckerberg's (and Microsoft's) fine company has improved the mental well-being of the nation (and, increasingly, the French- and Spanish-speaking worlds).
The more friends you have, the better you feel and the more confident you are of making more friends. A virtuous circle that can only bring us all closer together in these tortured times.
Much was made in the recently concluded election about such phrases as "spreading the wealth" and "socialism". Surely, Facebook is a brand that can happily offer both to so many people.
If the new U.S. government could offer Mr. Zuckerberg a few billion dollars to concentrate on bringing people together on an even more expansive basis, his employees would be able to take their time to work out whether any kind of advertising will ever bring the company large profits. Or whether it even needs to.
Naturally, the government could give the money with some conditions. It might ask for a little more openness, perhaps. You know, the ability to to move your profile over to other socially conscious areas, like OpenSocial. And I'm sure Facebook would be willing to give way on such a small issue.
In the times of the outgoing administration, the word "bailout" had such a negative connotation. One of keeping sinking ships above the waterline. Surely, in our new, more hopeful future, we must think about positive bailouts. Our money can be used to solve problems of a far more elevated and all-embracing nature.
After all, aren't you always being told that the most important thing in business is relationships?
As she lurched towards an unfortunate demise in the Democratic Primary election, Hillary Clinton sought out Facebook's Mark Zuckerberg and appeared to blame him for her failure to defeat Barack Obama.
Last week, a Clinton campaign operative placed a phone call to Zuckerberg, choosing a less than optimal time of the morning. When Zuckerberg picked up, the New York Senator came on the line to firmly state her views.
"Mr. Zuckerberg. You and your friendsters- I believe that's the trendy term- are costing me the Presidency," declared the Senator.
"Um, we're Facebook, not Friendster, Ma'an," answered a groggy Zuckerberg.
"I'll be throwing the book at your face when I catch up with you, Sonny. Who the hell do you think you are making it easy for people below the age of political consent to organize?"
"There's an age of political consent?" mumbled a confused Zuckerberg.
"30, you sophomoron!" offered the Senator. "That's what my pollsters told me. 30. Under 30s vote in negligible numbers. Under thirties have sex, take drugs and express naïve altruism. None of these things is compatible with good political judgment. History has proved it."
"History? What's history got to do with politics? Or judgment? Under 30s spend most of their day online, ma'an. In fact, you might not be aware, many under 30s actually have most of their sex online too. Although at Facebook we haven't yet been able to find a great application to help them really enjoy it."
"But you did find a way to let everyone in America give Senator Obama at least $100."
"We did?" asked Zuckerberg, feeling strangely awakened.
"Yes. This social networking thing you're pushing. My staff tells me that's how the Pretty One got most of his money. People in secret networks banding together to make a little go a long way. Like in the Gulags," said the Senator.
"Social networking is where the world's going, ma'an. It's all about sharing and honesty."
"Look, you NetWonker, social networking should be confined to Washington. Only we understand the true meaning of society. And I will pass legislation to that effect when I am elected President," said the Senator, finding new confidence in old words.
"In 2020?"
"In 2020, I'll be the same age as my good friend John McCain. And I will still be the President of the United States. Before campaigning for Chelsea."
"But..."
(Credit:
darkpatator)
"As for honesty, it has no place in today's suspicious and dangerous world," lectured the Senator.
"The people on Facebook quite like it. They even post petitions on the site when they think I've done something stupid," whispered Zuckerberg.
"Leaders should never admit to stupidity. My Bill never did."
"Er, OK. And how did that work for him?"
"Look, this isn't a social call, Zucky, I want you to get all your social networkers to even the playing field by giving me as much money as Obama has."
"How do you expect me to do that, ma'an?" asked Zuckerberg, offering a plaintiveness that masked true irritation.
"It's Ma'am, you dolt, Ma'am. Not ma'an. Tell them you're endorsing me and that they should each give a thousand dollars."
"A grand? Why would they do that?"
"Because they're naive and altruistic and believe in fairness and honesty."
Zuckerberg was silent for several seconds.
"And if you do I'll make you the youngest member of my Cabinet," cooed the Senator, the trump card having emerged from her lips like a rose.
"Why would I want to go into politics?" asked Zuckerberg.
"Because I'll pay you well. I made $109 million over the last few years, you know."
"Senator, I'm worth around $6billion."
"That is not possible."
"That's what I said. But it's true," said Zuckerberg, a wan smile illuminating his darkness.
"$6billion. Ah. So, um, listen, er, Marky, how about donating some, or even all, of that? To me? We have one of those website things. HillaryClinton.com."
"Sorry."
"Why not? You're just saying that because I'm a woman."
"No, I'm just saying that because I don't want to."
At this, the Senator wagged a verbal finger of visceral stiffness: "The trouble with you young people today is that you're self-centered cynics who think you're entitled to everything."
"Where did we get that idea?"
"If you don't do what I say, I'll have an Op-Ed in the Washington Post destroying your company within 24 hours," said Clinton, never entirely out of trump cards.
"If you don't get off the phone now, ma'an, and let me get some sleep, I'll post this conversation on my Facebook page."
"You wouldn't do that."
"Senator, have you ever been on Facebook? The fourth-largest group is called 'STOP HILLARY CLINTON.' It has more than a million members. Your own Facebook page has only 158,000."
"You see. You ARE responsible for my winning second place."
"No, Senator. You are. Technology simply makes it easier for people to say what they really want to say and do what they really want to do. And I really want to go to sleep. So I'm gonna push the red button on my phone now. Good night."
"Don't you hang up on me, Sonny Jim," said the Senator, feeling suddenly cardless.
"Senator, it's three in the morning. Red button time."
With that, Zuckerberg rang off. The Senator stayed up until 4am, waiting for him to call back or for another disaster to require her attention. She waited in vain.
The next day, one of her staffers logged on to the Hillary Clinton Facebook page. There was one invitation to play Scrabulous. And one hundred and fourteen to donate to the Obama campaign.
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