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Why Big Business Is Stupid
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If there’s one thing that big organisations, from the US Government to Sony Pictures, are good at it’s not facing up to reality. This is probably down to the fact that these leviathan’s can, to some degree, define reality. They just can’t do this to quite the degree that they think they can. This makes them slow to adapt and poor at exploiting genuinely great opportunities. Instead they try to keep things the same and maximise their tried and tested revenue streams.
Big organisations hate change, unless it’s their idea, which it rarely is. Copyright bills are great examples of this. Has any copyright law so far actually reduced copyright infringement to any great degree? I doubt it and I doubt that any ever will, so there really is no point wasting precious government time on bills like SOPA and PIPA.
Don’t get me wrong, I am all for people being able to profit from their creativity, I am pro-copyright, I should have the right to own these very words that I am typing now. However, the notion that copyright can control the reproduction of work is, in this day and age, simply out of date and entirely impossible to enforce.
The definition of copyright has changed before, and it should change again. Outside of the US, books used to have a resale clause in them, telling you that you must not resell or even lend the book to someone else. They don’t carry that message anymore. Is this because the general public didn’t acknowledge it as being valid? Books are resold everywhere, and they have been for a long time, and I don’t remember hearing about the Salvation Army being busted for having books in their stores, despite the fact that the second hand market appears to be distribution without profit, at least for the original maker.
And this is pertinent, the second hand market for books, DVDs, videogames or CDs appears, on the surface, to generate very little wealth for the creator of the material, either the creative artist or the legions that operate the channels they work through. The only benefit is publicity for the creative behind the work, so if you picked up a second hand copy of Zadie Smith’s White Teeth cheap and liked it, you might buy her latest book first hand. Perhaps the second hand market is the viral advertising of physical media.
So what’s the viral advertising of digital media? The actual media, of course! Piracy wouldn’t be a problem if no one wanted to copy this media. Surely this very fact can be leveraged in some way.
Big media cares little for copyright, it cares about profits. If one business model doesn’t work then these companies owe it to their shareholders to find a new one that does. For the TV and movie industry I think there’s a very obvious technological solution that will create a great viewing experience for the viewer, and revenue for the makers, all without misguided legislation that will only ever damage websites of genuine value.
I pay a subscription to have Sky TV, some of the shows are sponsored, so why the hell do I also have to suffer adverts? Many shows can be watched on a website, which is quite convenient, but they also have adverts. But no one likes adverts; folk don’t like shouty adverts for the latest thing to get a flatter stomach or a brain like a computer. Do the pirates rip shows and leave the adverts in, of course not, who wants to watch that.
But what if the adverts weren’t explicit and were instead implicit, like product placement, but a lot more sophisticated. TV shows are full of saleable items – clothes, music, furniture, food, anything, they hurl ideas at us about what we can buy. And on a computer all these things can be clicked on – like a jacket on the lead character, just move the cursor to it and click, or tap on it on a touch screen. With an authored layer over the whole show or movie this click would mean something, it would mean you bookmark the product and then, when the entertainment ends the internet opens up and gives you places to buy these things.
“How cool was Brad Pitt in that jacket? I want it!” and still bathing in the afterglow you go to an online store and buy it. The best thing about this is that the makers of movies and TV shows can actually take advantage of the fact that everyone’s copying and distributing their content around the internet. When all moving image media can identify itself and link to websites selling stuff then the more times its copied the better. And because the companies that make the films and TV shows in the first place are posting their material to the torrent sites first and at a good quality, it stands to reason that their click/touch encoded version will be the most popular to download.
This isn’t rocket science, but it is an opportunity to make a lot of money, definitely as much as any the big media producers are generating at the moment. When the world changes, you have to change with it, that’s what the rest of us have to do. So, big media, stop whinging, grow up, catch up with the world and employ some people that have the vision to see what using other peoples’ bandwidth to distribute your content really is: The greatest opportunity your industry has ever had.
BJ’s Got His 5 Things On Again
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Over in the land of the Bill Johnson blog we have 5 more things that rile the old curmudgeon – this time Bad Pets.
I searched for "Bad Pets" and I got a picture of Dr Oz - ah, the unusual world of Google...
In The Long Run We Are All Dead Creative
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Towards the end of last year (2011 for those who, like me, are having the usual January calendar shift issues) I spoke for my designated 5 minutes at Ignite Wellington 4. I don’t really have to write anymore, you can just watch the video.
Put your hands in the air, like you just don't care, or more precisely like you're thinking about what you're saying so much that your arms are left to their own devices...
Famous Quotes
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Well, maybe not really famous quotes, but they might be at some time. So, like that piece of tat you buy, hoping it turns out to be an antique, why not whiz over to the Bill Johnson blog (I know, he gets all the attention these days) and snap up these quotes before every has one. I think I slipped from one analogy into another there, making a mockery of anything sensible I might have had to say. Sorry about that.
Bill Johnson’s 5 Things
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Over in the land of zombie issues specialists Bill Johnson tells the world which James Bond gadgets he’d most like to have, and why. Don’t expect all reasons to be reasonable.
Guns, pah, Bill Johnson has no need for such toys...
Would You Buy Shares In Mitt Romney?
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It occurs to me that politicians (especially American politicians) effectively sell shares in themselves throughout their career. A lot of this is entirely obvious, in the form of campaign funding from various parties. If we assume that the strength of a politician comes partly from their public persona and partly from the strength of their shareholders then simple approval ratings are misleading, or at least are fragile, because powerful backers want to see the man or woman they backed win, and will leverage their own power to support them.
Even if this factor accounts for only 10% of the outcome of an election, it’s still a significant factor, certainly enough to change the course of a Presidential election. Now, my assumption is that the strength of campaign donors is directly connected to their own financial health. Anyone who is seeing shares in their company drop, or business drying up or is even in the middle of a divorce, is probably going to be a poorer ally than someone who is having a good time in business.
So, what I am suggesting is calculating a modifier to be applied to a politician’s approval rating that is ultimately based on the value of donor stock. This modifier has a greater influence the more time there is until the election, as these back room forces need time to wield their power.
Do you think this kind of system would work?
Bill Johnson Now Has His Own Blog
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Yes fine folk, I present to you the one and only Bill Johnson: Zombie Issues Blog!
Bill Johnson, like the A-Team, but smaller...
Designomicon Blog 2011 Report
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The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 3,000 times in 2011. If it were a cable car, it would take about 50 trips to carry that many people.
Click here to see the complete report.
Tailless Blackbird
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Mooching around outside my house recently I encountered a female blackbird without any tail feathers. It looked like a weird experimental plane, one of the ones that doesn’t really look as cool as an aircraft should.
The Dream Chaser space plane, not unlike a tailless blackbird...
This bird was curiously sedate, and certainly showed no signs of flying away, could it fly away? The cat rounded the corner and got all excited by the sight of the bird, although I wasn’t too worried because she’s only got one canine tooth left and all her claws are blunted from trimming. The bird wasn’t much phased either (did it know about the cat’s disarmament?) although it took the stupid precaution of running under the planter, which stands plenty high enough for a cat to follow.
To prevent the cat gumming the bird to death I picked her up and went and got the better half, so I could at least spread the blame of any decisions I made. Luckily, my lady had already encountered such a thing and chased the bird to the end of the deck, where it hopped through the trellis and glided off into a tree. It seems that the lack of tail feathers wasn’t much of a problem and once out of sight it was clearly no longer my problem.
The bird's the brown thing next to the planter...
Later, while consulting Google, I found out that this blackbird was fresh out of the nest, and somewhere close by it’s parents will have been sat in a tree, laughing at it.
I’m glad I wasn’t born a blackbird.
I’ve written a…
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I’ve written a novella all about zombies! You can buy it on Amazon and half of what I make will be going to the earthquake harried town of Christchurch.
Read on and read the first chapter…
Retirement
Bill Johnson gazed down at the little sea kayak paddling up to the wharf. Curious behaviour that, paddling round the island when the kid inside could have just as easily crashed up the shingle on any number of beaches and saved their arms.
For sure, the path from the pier was assured, sealed even. But he couldn’t help think it would be possible to spot as good a landing on approach, even so low down in the water. He was sure he would have done.
There were three possibilities:
Either the visitor loved kayaking: A waved slapped into the vessel from the side and kicked salt water into the kid’s face. Even at a distance the expletive could be lip read.
Or they loved the kayak and didn’t want to score its underside with a skid landing, preferring to tie it to the wharf instead: With fury the kayak darted under the jetty of the wharf, scraping one of the pillars a little, some power strokes with the paddles and the nose crashed into the stony beach. Fibreglass scraped nastily and the craft ran aground. Kayak love went out the window.
That only left the third option: The kid was polite, the wharf was, after all, kind of like the front door to the island.
“Hello, hello. Sorry to intrude,” the kid cried.
Yep, polite. At least at first.
That normally meant trouble.
“Up here,” shouted Bill from his vantage point. Then he sat down, picked up a glass and took a gulp.
Eventually the kid made it up the track from the wharf, breathing deeply, but not overly so, from the uphill walk, which had been covered at a respectable pace.
Age had impaired Bill’s ability to judge the age of the young so well, but he reckoned the kid was no older than seventeen. She was taller than himself, as was everyone it seemed, and pretty skinny. Her hair was short and dark.
Bill was extremely suspicious of her.
“Hi,” she said, raising her hand in a little wave.
“Hello,” said Bill, refusing to commit to any overt friendliness.
“Are you Bill Johnson?”
“Yes I am.”
“My name’s Kate. I need your help.”
This is what he had feared most, “I’m retired.”
“I know, but there isn’t anyone else.”
Bill groaned to himself. The kid had been courteous to him, so he decided to return the favour and listen to her woes. Then he’d feed her and then tell her to sod off, in a polite way.
“If there isn’t anyone else then I’m worried for you. Take a seat; tell me what the problem is.”
So she did.
When she’d finished a short story told a long way, Bill fired up the barbecue and began thinking about the best way to tell a young girl to bugger off. He didn’t want to sound too harsh, he only wanted to sound just the right level of heartless to maintain his gruff, pub story worthy image.
She studied him as he went through his mental rolodex of options, “They say you have the zombie malaria.”
How did everything get to be such public knowledge, especially as no one had Facebook anymore? “Yeah, I have my moments, but the gin and tonics help keep it down, for the most part. Only had a couple of bouts in the past couple of years.”
“So you’re always drunk?”
“Better than the alternative.”
“The alternative?”
“Eating your brains!” he leered round at her.
“Can I fix you another?”
“By all means.”
He went back to his own personal conversation-slash-argument. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, she’s eager to mix up cocktails, after all. No, there’s no point, I don’t have a crew anymore. She seems pretty desperate, who else is going to do it? Why does the job have to be there? You always get lost there, remember the time before the end of days, it’s a good job they didn’t look at the other side of the hire car. The thoughts pinballed schizophrenically around Bill’s heavy browed head. Finally, it hit the drain.
“Look, I appreciate your problem, but I don’t think I can help,” that was a relief.
Kate handed him the freshly mixed gin and tonic. As she turned away she said casually, “They water it down, you know.”
“What, the gin? I don’t doubt it. I’m not even sure it’s really gin, to be honest.”
“No, the tonic water.”
“I don’t think so,” but Bill knew he’d been feeling a little strange of late. Taught. Not quite taught like a guy rope, but definitely taught like a schoolchild. A naughty schoolchild, with the odd board rubber chucked at it.
“You don’t find you have to drink more and more?” questioned Kate.
“I think that’s the nature of booze.”
“You’re meant to add more gin as the years go by, not tonic.”
Bill looked at his glass, “I probably should find a new supply.” If what she said was true then he had to find a new supply, or his island sanctuary would become an island prison, like his neighbour, Hungry Dave.
“My surname’s Gardener,” offered Kate.
“Do you have green fingers? Sorry, you’ve probably had that a lot,” Bill sounded slightly rattled.
“Yes. Well, not me so much, but my family has very green fingers.”
Bill moved some thinking away from the food he was going to eat and moved more thinking to the conversation he was having. He had the feeling that Kate was trying to tell him something important, but in code. A riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma parcelled up in a why the hell doesn’t she just spit it out?!
Suddenly it came to him, a look of delight crossed his face and he went to speak. If his eyes had been fruit machine reels he’d have had jackpot written in both of them, which isn’t enough, because fruit machines have at least three reels. He closed his mouth again and went back to thinking.
“I’m from the Gardeners of carbonated drinks fame.”
“Ah.” One thing was for sure, thought Bill, they’re definitely not watering down the gin, even I could have made that connection. Too much drinking before eating, that was the problem. Still, it was a Friday night.
“I can guarantee you a lifetime’s supply of tonic water.”
Bill put down his glass and looked at her, “You could have just said that in the first place, this stuff costs an arm and a leg.”
