For Sifry at Technorati, of course, the sermon was blogs: That the "blogosphere," a term he helped popularize, was growing exponentially — never mind that many of the blogs Technorati counted were fakes, created by spammers to fool search engines and Web surfers. That this realm of blogs required search tools to navigate, tools that would somehow be distinct from workaday search engines. That the currency of blogs was not traffic, readership, or engagement, but "inbound links" — the back-scratching links provided by one blogger to another, in the name of bloggy solidarity.

The sermon proved false, of course. Blogs are just another form of content, easily searched with existing tools, once they were updated to account for a faster pace of publication. And advertisers rapidly learned that "inbound links" counted for little, and existing Web-tracking research firms could easily turn their attention to those few blogs which grew large enough to draw the interest of marketers. Sifry, spurred on by fervor, refused to see that — or acknowledge it. And finally, faced with the inability to reconcile his vision of the blogosphere's endless growth with the reality of cutting Technorati's expenses through layoffs, he avoided the hard decision by abdicating his role as CEO.

Furrier, too, has delayed facing hard realities. He's typical of the early podcasters: A geek with a lot to say, convinced that his self-involved patter is interesting. Furrier is clearly a persuasive type, enough so to have lured spokesblogger Robert Scoble away from Microsoft and to have gotten him to stay at PodTech, despite the increasing damage to his reputation.

What he hasn't done, however, is assemble content that a mass audience finds interesting. PodTech's lineup of channels remains thoroughly niche, and the company's flirtation with humorous programming ended disastrously, with the public meltdown of toxicly unfunny "comedian" Loren Feldman.

For Technorati and PodTech, these are exactly the moments when professional management is needed: Someone clear-eyed enough to see opportunities others might miss, but clear-headed enough to recognize when a founder's vision doesn't match reality. But hiring someone like that require the evangelist to swallow his ego and admit he might be wrong. Sifry, replaced by a temporary committee of underlings, hasn't done that; nor has Furrier, who tapped his COO to replace him.

Evangelism has a place in the business of technology. Without it, we'd all be scrapping over tiny slices of stagnant markets, instead of embracing growth. But evangelism is no substitute for achievement. Nor, in the end, is an evangelist a replacement for a real leader.

Yahoo offers contests for the most dedicated evangelist among its 13,000 global employees [...] Employees who do things like ask people who don't work for Yahoo "Do you Yahoo?", memorize the company's mission statement and wear Yahoo gear to the office for a day can win trips paid for by the company, she says. Even visitors to Yahoo offices see purple everywhere, from the oversize, purple velvet seats in the lobbies to the purple sprinkler heads in the lawns as the company tries to embed its purple, fun image into people's consciousness.

Apparently, the monoculture of IBM is not dead. It's been Barney-fied, reborn cheesy and annoying — I mean "fun". I hope Cammie understands anyone coming up to a stranger asking, "Do you Yahoo?" is going to be turned away, if not assaulted, quicker than a purple Jehovah's witness, not perceived as "brand marketing savvy."

It's rumored that Jeff Weiner, Yahoo golden child, is even printing a Little Purple Book so that the purple masses can imprint and recite in chorus the new corporate mission statement: "To connect people to their passions, communities, and the world's knowledge... To connect people to their passions, communities, and the world's knowledge... To connect people to their passions, communities, and the world's knowledge..."