It's great fun. 37signals issued a fake "press release" on the company's influential and freewheeling blog yesterday mocking Twitter's reportedly imminent $1 billion valuation by way of a $100 million investment. "37SIGNALS VALUATION TOPS $100 BILLION AFTER BOLD VC INVESTMENT," read the headline. The post began:

37signals is now a $100 billion dollar company, according to a group of investors who have agreed to purchase 0.000000001% of the company in exchange for $1.

It later declared that 37signals would cease taking in actual money, so investors could fantasize about the company's potential instead of thinking about reality. It's a salient point, and one we've made ourselves. The satire also nails how the adulation and money lavished on Twitter invite disturbing comparisons to the 2000 dot-com bubble.

But as much as we enjoy and heartily encourage this sort of bitchery, we'd be remiss not to point out that Fried seems to have a chip on shoulder. Just look at the context: a series of high-profile public pronouncements in which Fried and his tight-knight crew at 37signals have set themselves up as the marked antithesis of Twitter.

To hear Fried's people tell it, Silicon Valley is filled with flaky startup dreams like Twitter; 37Signals is the level-headed Midwestern outfit. Valley companies conjure imaginary business models; 37signals actually sells things. The message 37signals pushes most energetically is that it charges users for its product, while companies like San Francisco-based Twitter give them away and hope for the best.

"The days of the traditional San Francisco startup approach are numbered," wrote 37signals' David Heinemeier Hansson, in an essay in which he relished the thought that Valley startups who fail to "charge for stuff" would be "flushed down the drain." Hansson cited earlier comments by Fried, who has said "free is not the future of business" and that the idea of dropping "an advertisement into the conversation every once in a while" is "toxic."

Fried also this month lacerated the founders of Mint.com, saying they "bent over" in selling their company to Intuit for $170 million. Presumably they should have stayed in the notoriously breakneck, personal-life-destroying world of tech startups until they reached Fried's serene plateau of self-evident emotional tranquility and nirvana. Oh, and did we mention that Twitter CEO Evan Williams himself sold a series of startups before co-founding Twitter, which is widely expected to be likewise flipped someday? Just like those sumissive Mint.com guys, hmmm.

We'll readily concede that Twitter is a 37signals customer, and Hansson to his credit wrote a post called "Hail to Twitter" a year and a half ago, albeit to make up, we presume, for the one he did a week earlier, "Bitching is the killer app for Twitter." But we still detect in Fried something of a grudging obsession with Twitter which, crazy talk aside, has accumulated an impressive 40 million or so estimated users, a massive ecosystem of related startups and the highest profile roster of users the tech world has ever known. Hey, look, we know from grudging obsessions with the microblogging service and its founders. But even a jaded observer like Valleywag can see that Twitter wasn't valued at $1 billion in a throwaway $1 investment. It took $100 million from serious-as-hell investors who very much expect to get that money back, and then some. Deep down, we bet Fried knows the difference too — even if he can't admit it.

(Pic by Sean O'Shaughnessy)

Anyway, Zuck starts gushing about how great it is Facebook now has 100 million users. I'm thinking, "Yeah, great, we're buying unlimited photo storage for 100 million freeloaders. Have you ever done the bandwidth bill on that, kid?" But he won't shut up. I close my eyes, breathe, put on my happy face, and reply, "Yes, Mark, that's an amazing milestone. We really should celebrate it appropriately. What do you think of Joe putting on a wine-and-cheese reception this evening, like he used to do for me at Google?"

Zuckerberg's face darkens. "No!" he shouts like a toddler. "We're doing a toga party!"

My smile stays pasted on. I calculate the risks.

"Of course, Mark! This is your company. I understand how important the culture is."

I get on the phone to Joe Desimone and tell him — surprise! — we're throwing a party. He can cater for 500 on no notice, right? Mark leads his children's crusade out to the park. I stay behind to rework the Q3 spreadsheets. After he's done cheering them with a megaphone about how they're changing the world, they head straight to the cafeteria building. There's a keg of beer there. No, there are three kegs. No, five.

I can't dodge them anymore, so I walk in and survey the roomful of kids in bedsheets that came from God knows where. They're all 23. They're all dating each other. They're all hopped up on beer and Red Bull that our shareholders paid for. Suddenly, I feel claustrophobic. I can't face these brats. I glide to the bathroom, lock the door, and do the deep-breathing exercises my yoga master Kellison taught me. I steel myself and walk back out. Next thing I know, that joker Dave Morin is wrapping me in a toga. At last, I laugh, while making mental notes about which of these overrated twentysomethings I'm going to fire, in which order.

• No protective sleeve for press room coffee cup.
  
• Photo credential only allows you to take pics of booth dudes, not babes.
  
• Shocks from a designer Taser anytime you roll your eyes at a vendor's use of jargon.
  
• Mandatory lunch with Scoble and Calacanis.
  

I HEREBY REQUEST YOUR HELP AND ASSISTANCE TO HELP SEND ME TRANSFER THIS US$20,000,000.00(TWENTY MILLION, UNITED STATES DOLLARS) INTO OUR COUNTRY SO THAT WE WORK TOGETHER AND INVEST THE MONEY IN A LUCRATIVE BUSINESS IN OUR COUNTRY.

I NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE TO TRANSFER THIS MONEY INTO OUR COUNTRY SO THAT WE BEGIN THE BUSINESS IN EARNEST. MY FAMILY LAWYER; JUSTICE MUSTAPHA AKANBI WILL ALSO ASSIST US TO FACILATE THE TRANSFER OF THIS US$20,000,000.00 INTO OUR BANK ACCOUNT.

I WILL LIKE YOU TO KEEP THIS INVESTMENT PROJECT CONFIDENTIAL UNTIL WE START IT IN EARNEST. I WILL GIVE YOU A 20% GRATIFICATION AS SOON AS THIS US$20,000,000.00 IS TRANSFERED INTO OUR BANK ACCOUNT. I WILL ALSO REFUND YOU ALL THE MONEY YOU WILL SPEND IN THE COURSE OF TRANSFERING THIS US$20,000,000.00 INTO YOUR BANK ACCOUNT. ON YOUR RECEIPT OF THIS MAIL, LET ME HEAR FROM YOU SO THAT WE KNOW THE NEXT LINE OF ACTION AS REGARDS THIS INVESTMENT PROJECT. PLEASE I LOOK FORWARD TO HEAR FROM YOU ON YOUR RECEIPT OF THIS MAIL.REMEMBER TO GIVE ME YOUR PHONE AND FAX NUMBERS IN YOUR REPLY FOR EASY COMMUNICATIONS.CONTACT ME BY EMAIL ON YOUR RECEIPT OF THIS MAIL: SO THAT WE DISCUSS MORE ABOUT OUR INVESTMENT PARTNERSHIP IN OUR COUNTRY.

AS I WAIT TO HEAR FROM YOU.
REMAIN BLESSED, BEST REGARDS DR, TOM BELLO

Venture capital is a business about risk — but only the right kinds of risk. Unproven technology? Fine. Gay employees? Cool. A founder who quotes Ayn Rand? Oh, hey, wait a second. Not that there's anything wrong with The Fountainhead.

Here in northern California, where John Galt's 60-page speech in the middle of Atlas Shrugged is the only thing we can't tolerate, even alluding to someone's Objectivism is suspect. (Even if, like me, you kinda bought into it as an MIT freshman because it made more sense than either Catholicism or Sartre.) But on Sand Hill Road, Republicans fund Republicans. The clubby ranks of VCs are mostly straight, white, male and support the nation-state as sole arbiter on the use of force.

The effects are hard to document. But Objectivist entrepreneurs I've spoken to agree it's real. How many VCs do you know who can grasp Rand's basic math that A=A? It explains the valuations for Web 2.0.

I think it explains a lot about Thiel: "The only man capable of experiencing a profound romantic love is the man driven by passion for his work." Like the Jews who founded Hollywood a century ago, an Objectivist investor has no hope of getting elected to anything. That frees him or her to build a rational system for identifying and rewarding talented individuals. Starting with himself.

That's why I think it's important to say this: Peter Thiel, the smartest VC in the world, is an Objectivist. Dude, come listen to Rush with us anytime.

The problem first started when Jennifer — my daughter, she's 12 — made a lipstick print on the bathroom mirror. I was plucking my eyebrows and the lipstick was where my mouth was, and I realized I look like Cher. Not young Cher, now Cher. A reanimated corpse.

Lately I'd felt...unrelatable. You know the uncanny valley? How people respond poorly to something that looks almost human, but not enough, like Frankenstein or zombies or Polar Express? That's how I feel.

Whom do I want to feel like? Well, until recently I thought being me was okay. But last week was Job Day at Rory's school, and the night before, Rory comes up to me and says "Dad, I want the other kids to think you're cool. So can you tell them you're Fake Steve Jobs?"

Well that's sort of rude. No, not your iPhone, just that you answered it in the middle of our session.

Is that an Xbox over there? What's your Halo name? Ha, Headshot, no that's funny. My son used to have an Xbox. Well I caught him trying to hack it, so I called the cops.

Yes, I guess my kids are one of my biggest stress creators. But who in my life isn't? Steve Ballmer? Ha! You've seen the videos of him screaming? You should see him when Warren Buffett calls shotgun. And then he kicks the back of my seat the whole ride to Seattle. He's the reason Richard Branson put barriers between all the seats on his planes. Virgin America is all Ballmer.

Yes, Warren's more relaxing to hang out with, but he's no fun since he's such a cheapskate. That DNA test he got with Jimmy Buffett to see if they're related — guess which one paid for that? It makes it aggravating to go out with him. He won't even supersize so he always eats half my fries too. Then there's the whole death thing again. I wanted to get into chess in my old age, but it's always bridge. At the old folks' home. And between you and me, Buffett looks kind of nerdy.

I thought retirement would be soothing. Lounge around at home, walls playing some nice music, table reading me a story, kitchen making a snack. Instead Bono keeps dropping in, telling me about this rad party at Clinton's or Steve's or some other hippie pad, and bugging me to read his poetry. Honestly I thought the guy died in a skiiing accident years ago.

Oh, already? All right, see you next week. Should I pay at the front desk? Jeez, that much?

Couldn't I just help defrag your hard drive?

Darfur
Day has been lame. Stood in line for nine hours to get water for the family. When I got home, played this vocab game and won 30 grains of rice. Not sure how they'll send the rice to me. Bummer because I could have used some dinner. GTG, baby brother's crying again. Probably just his dysentery. God I do NOT want to change that diaper.

Nmwel, Vanuatu
We are so glad to have this computer! The entire village has spent hours laughing at the many videos on YouTube (Grandma Kalkot says hello to Dr. Diet Coke and Dr. Mentos the firework makers!).
The only problem is that due to our lust for the computer, we have abandoned our farms, our hunting, and all other useful work. Yesterday I caught one of the men with the laptop, hitting himself between the legs while watching a movie of a man and woman wrestling. I fear our tiny island community will be wiped out as we sit gaping at the green machine.

Nigeria
DEAR MOST EXCELLENT READERS, I HOPE YOU ARE NOT SURPRISED FOR WHAT I AM TELLING YOU. I HAVE ULTIMATE FAITH IN YOUR COMMENTING AS GENEROUS AND TRUSTWORTHY. MY FATHER, A COLONEL IN THE DIGG ARMY, DEPOSITED 5,000,000 PAGEVIEWS IN A BLOG POST, BUT HE WAS UNFORTUNATELY BANNED BEFORE HE COULD RETRIEVE THE FUNDS. KNOWING YOU READERS TO BE TRANSPARENT IN BUSINESS, I ASK YOU TO LEND ONE DIGG BY GIVING ME YOUR ACCOUNT INFORMATION, FOR A DEPOSIT THAT WILL HELP US FREE THE PAGEVIEWS. SINCERELY, BANGURA BANGURA.

Iraq
Got time between public hangings, so I have a moment to tell you about this great Facebook group I found, "In Honor of Mall Victims." It's in memorial to the nine victims of the senseless shooting in Omaha, America. There is good news on the group, such as that the mall has bravely opened less than two days after the tragedy, to defend people's rights to get 20% additional off a red tag sale price. I was so touched by the love of the Facebook users, many of whom bought teddy bear icons for the families of the victims, that I tried to invite my friends to the group. Unfortunately they were all killed by a suicide bomber last week.

Kansas City
Dear OLPC, I need to confess. Jealous that kids in developing nations were getting cooler computers than my mom's iMac (it's the cherry-colored one), I posed as an orphan from Madagascar to get a laptop. Now I'd like to return it, after I've read about the plights of the many children who need this opportunity to expand their world. Plus World of Warcraft lags like a bitch and my guild is pissed.

The deconstruction
Those participating in Pfeez must wear its logo or take pictures of those wearing the logo. But what does the logo represent but the act of interacting with the logo? It is thus a self-referential symbol. And thus Pfeez points a mocking finger at Facebook, MySpace, and other networks that no longer represent real-world relationships but merely point at themselves. Even "useful" sites like Flickr, filled with photos of Flickr users taking photos of the cameras of other Flickr users, cannot escape the stinging satire of Pfeez.

Phase 3: Profit!
Someone's going to buy Pfeez's logo crap, right?