Sara Winge, a vice president at O'Reilly Media, posted a message asking her boss to confirm his plans to speak at a Stanford event in June for a fee of $25,000. (It's since been deleted, but it's still archived in Twitter's search engine.) Since she'd posted about getting a drink earlier in the day, we're thinking that she might have forgotten to use Twitter's direct-messaging feature.

The subject, the "future of manufacturing," hardly seems like an area to which O'Reilly, who helped popularize the term "Web 2.0," might lend his expertise, but hey, times are tough and money is money. On an O'Reilly website, Winge is described as the "maestro of the O'Reilly media message." And yes, the message is clear: O'Reilly is a mid-tier blowhard for hire.

(Photo by kubina)

Web 2.0 was a bubble that never inflated — a shimmery illusion that popped well before we stopped talking about it. Precious few people got rich from the notions its proponents championed, such as user-generated content and social networks.

Calacanis was the only person of note to cash out on the blogging craze, selling a set of blogs to AOL for $25 million. That was a paltry figure in the grand scheme of things, but enough to set him up in a comfortable home in Brentwood and buy him a $109,000 electric sports car. And enough to make him a Web celebrity, with thousands of followers on Twitter and friends on Facebook — the quantifiable metrics of fame preferred by those who are not really famous.

The startups of the Web 2.0 era have proven similarly vacuous in their success. Skype, the Internet-calling service, sold for $2.6 billion to eBay in 2005; the auction giant wrote off $1.4 billion of that purchase last year. YouTube, sold to Google for $1.65 billion, is an acknowledged failure, with product managers scrambling to bedaub it with enough advertising to merely pay for its bandwidth bills. And the IPO market that powered the '90s bubble? All but invisible. The most recent big offering was in August for Rackspace, a boring company which hosts servers, and its stock has since fallen by half. With Wall Street on its knees, no one expects another IPO soon.

Will there be another bubble? Technology moves in cycles and is prone to investing fads, so yes, almost certainly. But there is nothing that looks set to inflate it. Cleantech, the next big hope of Silicon Valley, requires vastly more capital than Internet startups, and capital is now in short supply. (Falling oil prices, too, discourage the development of green energy.) While Internet users are devoting more attention to social networks, advertisers are staying away. Calacanis's venture, Mahalo, is a spiffed-up rehash of the kind of Web directory Yahoo built in 1995; he's now cooking up a new, secret project — which suggests that the loquacious entrepreneur realizes his original plan fell short. He may be onto something, if only in admitting failure. If this bubble fell short in making the likes of Calacanis rich, they have their own paucity of ideas to blame.

1. Find software that sells for $20,000 a copy. Don't try to come up with something new. If there isn't a product already, it's because there isn't a need. With something "new" you have to convince businesses or organizations they need it. An example: automated parking garage software.

2. Pick products supporting million-dollar companies. Those companies spend lots of money convincing customers they need their products. Then the customer will get quotes from everyone and might end up buying yours instead.

3. Build the product but only with the core features. Make a "lite" version initially. Use that money to continue to make it less "lite" and higher in price.

4. Get your name out in the industry. $20K software is certainly going to be "niche" software, with not a whole lot of customers out there who buy it. Get your company name out there so everyone knows you sell your systems and could be an alternative to what they already have.

5. Present yourself as consultingware. Be there on call and devoted to them and how they're using the product.

(Photo by Manuel Faisco)

[via Fimoculous]

After a strong resurgence in 2005 and showing strong staying power through 2007, lately most of the people I've seen use it fit into two categories: 1) people over 40 who have finally had the word passed down the cool chain from their younger friends and coworkers. 2) the "douches" originally being described themselves.

• Web 2.0.This marketing term was old when Time magazine made "You" the person of the year in 2006. CNET reporter Caroline McCarthy might have just killed it for good.
• Bubble. We can't be in a recession and a bubble at the same time, people. Pick just one economic theory to overhype, please.
• Influencers. This term is on the tip of every social media marketer's tongue as they look to find that one Facebook user who will spark a forest fire for the clients' brands. Problem is: Uncountable variables set the conditions for a forest fire. The spark is just the most visible. And research shows influencers aren't the real firestarters.
• MicroHoo. Microsoft-Yahoo is what, seven characters longer? This word is only OK if Jerry Yang and Steve Ballmer both become Jeves Bang or Stevey Yallmer. Which I don't think is going to happen. Unless more weed is involved.
• Dead simple. From now on, this phrase should only be used ironically. As in: "IsMikeArringtonADick.com makes it dead simple to find out if Mike Arrington is a dick."

Swaggle is a group SMS doohickey from Hive Mind's Jordan Schwartz that makes Dodgeball and Twitter look overly complicated and self-involved. It's kinda like the phone tree your elementary school or little league team used to maintain, without all the fuss of having to maintain a public identity.

And leave it to a subversive sticker tycoon to come up with Metanotes. Srini Kumar's new venture gives you a big, flat space to pin web ephemera, to-do lists and other stuff to share with friends (or strangers). Like a corkboard at the supermarket or the flier kiosk at the student union.

Simple, free, and easy to use — these kids just might be on to something. If only Facebook app developers were so clever. (Photo by AP/Mel Evans)

Writers are a sensitive bunch. We're like flowers, really. I exaggerate [Not much! –day ed], but all creative types crave validation. And it takes a long time to trust that whatever you made is just good, without praise from critics, strangers and high school English teachers. One of the things I like about keeping a private blog is that only a few of my friends read it and I don't get any feedback. For one, I'm too much of a flower to take it. And for two, I don't have to think about whether what I write is good or bad, which lets me just write.

But having instant feedback is exciting and fun. No judgment, but I have a word document where I save all the nice comments I've gotten at Gawker. Plus, reading comments is a great way to seem engaged with work while actually just being self-involved.

Of course, the flipside is that people can be nasty, too. Most people objected that to my claim that Gawker commenters are "mad." Because of the Gawker invite system, executions and the Darwinian nature of comments, the site doesn't stand for calling our west coast editor "fucking retarded." But you guys are quick to point out any grammatical failings and let me know when things are old.

But even though I'd love to continue on about me, as yesterday's experiment showed, commenting isn't all about the writer. A good post will encourage a dialog amongst the commenters. Often a mediocre post will do the same. And after, say, the 40th comment, the conversation becomes hard to follow for the casual observer. But as a public forum, and as a business model, that's a good thing. Commenting is also an opportunity for office drones to prove themselves to be real writers. Our own Richard Lawson was discovered as a commenter, and as 8Millionth admitted, "more people will read comments on a popular blog than the same words written on an unknown blog."

But getting back to me—a friend mentioned that he likes reading the comments because people talk to me as if they actually know me. That can be fun and weird, like when my family's dog made the comments last week.

Of course, the person I am in real life (very clumsy, occasionally socially awkward) and my online persona are two different things. But maybe not that different. Earlier today I sent my dad a sappy email and then asked how much financial aide that would get me. His response: "Zero because you spelled aid wrong."

Eveyone's a commenter.