Archive | March, 2008

Phone Book economics

31 Mar

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Friday morning I had an exchange with a delivery van driver that seemed to set the course for much of the day’s thinking around the state of the media business, content migration, and overall advertising-based revenue models.  In truth, it was a brief conversation — mostly consisting of nods, grunts and gestures — and one that would not normally interrupt the flow of a workday. On this occasion, however, it directly touched on a sensitive gripe of mine that I had been having trouble finding a succinct way of articulating.

The driver was merely trying to do his job. I found myself, oddly enough, trying to prevent him from doing that job. His job? Delivering new Yellow Pages phone books to my home. (Another set had already arrived at the office earlier that morning.)

He was insistent. I was more insistent. He backed off and sheepishly removed the stack of books from my front stoop and back onto his van. Apparently, I had not been the only one to stymie his delivery rounds that foggy San Francisco morning.

I began thinking about the interchange. I was, in effect, rejecting the delivery of something I had not ordered, was not consulted about, did not offer consent over, and, in fact, did not want. It occurred to me that this was a fairly recent phenomenon. I did not recall many occasions in the past when I was faced with this “opt-out” dilemma. I then realized that this was becoming an increasingly common problem. Searching for supporting data for my emerging hypothesis, I popped the lid of my blue recyclables bin and, eyeballing it for a brief moment, gauged that some 30-40% of its weekly contents consisted of “free” local papers and other media that I, too, had not requested nor been consulted about. Pulling on that thread long enough I quickly saw therein a troubling parallel for what many startup business models were predicated upon — “pushing” content versus having it “pulled” by qualified consumers — and what the implications were for overall valuations for companies adopting this precarious approach.

Think for a moment about the Yellow Pages. Put aside, for the time being, the usual knocks you hear – i.e., it’s a dead business, the internet has disintermediated it, it’s just for the geriatric set now, etc etc. Those arguments, while valid, miss my central point. At its core, the Yellow Pages business is focused upon driving viewership which, in turn, drives its advertising rate and its core revenue model. Yellow Pages prints up half a million books so they can be delivered to half a million homes so that Yellow Pages can tell advertisers that the advertiser’s 1/4 page ad will be in half a million books in half a million homes. End of story. What’s left conveniently out of the discussion is the true value of the penetration of that advertisement to that audience. How valuable is each recipient of the Yellow Pages and how does that translate into revenue for Yellow Page advertisers?

In effect, by accepting the Yellow Pages, I become one of that audience. I, for one, would be a terrible customer for Yellow Pages advertisers and, I fear, a fairly typical one. My last three editions of Yellow Pages books are propping up a bookcase in my garage (2004 edition), forming a backstop to a trapdoor in the tool shed (2005) and supporting a TV in the home gym (2006), respectively.  And yet, my receipt of Yellow Pages books each year makes me a “viewer” or “user” as Yellow Pages is defining it and, therefore, I, in a minuscule way, have an impact on what Yellow Pages is charging its advertisers to “sell” to me.

Who, then, is maintaining the statistics for the average annual use of the Yellow Pages in a home that accepts copies of its books, at no charge, and still uses it to find local plumbers, personal injury attorneys, and pizzerias that deliver? Virtually any layperson with even a modest exposure to current web technologies would quickly surmise that, all things being equal, “effective” Yellow Pages usage in any given home has declined, perhaps precipitously, since the emergence of the what we now consider the modern internet.

For decades, in traditional publishing a consumer’s (or, in this case, a reader’s) value to an advertiser was fairly easily gauged. These readers ‘subscribed’ to a publication. There was a cost associated with receiving that publication. That cost, even a nominal one, served to “qualify” that lead for an advertiser. That reader, if you’ll permit the analogy, was clearly interested in, say, outdoor pup tents because he was a subscriber to Field and Stream magazine, paid $19 a year to receive 12 issues of the publication, and renewed each year for the past five years. The cost of the subscription was the “entry cost”, or the glue that cemented the relationship and loyalty of that reader to the content matter and the advertisers whose wares mirrored that magazine or periodical’s affinity or area of interest. Simple enough to understand

Now, however, that model is pretty much on life support, if not dead outright. Magazines are being given away in offers and promotions (i.e. trade in your expiring United Mileage Plus miles for these ten magazines, etc) or sold at subscription prices that barely cover shipping and production. The “entry cost” has effectively evaporated to nothing and along with it, the true underlying value of the “readership” figures these magazines, newspapers and periodicals use to support their advertising rate cards. Who is asking the tough questions, then?

Renowned psychology professor and controversial author Robert Cialdini, in his excellent book Influence, uses psychological principles to explain what most laypeople understand common-sensically: people tend to place a low value of that which they acquire with little effort or at little cost. Media, in all its forms, has become so ubiquitous and free that “readership” or “viewership” has little consequence as a gauge of potential revenue. As I see it, for the purposes of venture-backed companies “pushing” content in this way, what needs to happen is a more structured, formalized means of more realistically and effectively gauging the value of viewership, readership, etc in a world where increasingly there exist no “qualifiers” or “entry costs” for consumers to receive the content and engage with the companies providing the service. If you believe that premise, then you must also believe the premise that customer loyalty for these same companies must be at a level far below what we would consider typical or expected for these types of companies in the recent past. Customer “loyalty” for media-based companies, then, (as we have long understood the notion) must be in decline at a frightening rate.

What all this noodling means, to my mind, is a need for investors and management teams to apply greater rigor in analyzing what “viewership” or “readership” really mean to emerging web companies in the internet/content/Web 2.0 sphere where valuations are too often driven in large part by user traffic, content and services are being “pushed” to drive user metrics rather than being pulled by paying customers, and there exist little or no switching costs. We have already seen some “value realignment” in the social networking sphere (see my earlier piece, $15 Billion Folly regarding Facebook) and we will likely see a good deal more carnage as most social networking sites still struggle with the ‘hot new club’ problem or fall victim to it (Friendster, anyone?)

As goes the famous Chinese curse, “may you live in interesting times.” Yes, indeed, things are definitely getting interesting around here.

Tightening your pitch? Think Joe Friday

26 Mar

David Hornik, the August Capital partner and a prominent VC blogger, is not quite a colleague; but, on the matter of persuading entrepreneurs to wean themselves off flowery language and superlatives in their investor materials, we are kindred spirits. David’s post on the idea of stripping adjectives from VC pitches is well worth reading. I am not entirely sure how well that idea in practice would turn out (kind of like reciting the Gettysburg Address without using prepositions) but I am in full support of the spirit behind that suggestion.

Every decent treatise on the subject of pitchcraft will make some mention of ‘knowing your audience.’ Well said. Venture investors are tired of being told in pitch meetings of the promise of the internet and how it has changed our day-to-day lives. We get it. Move on. A topic less well-trodden, that Dave raises in his post, is that of taking the Joe Friday approach and stripping your presentations of superfluous adjectives and other superlatives that serve to muddle the overall message and just sticking to the facts….ma’am.

Granted, this is easier said than done. I understand that some entrepreneurs will feel that VCs are asking them for competing things. On the one hand, we want to see real passion and excitement from the entrepreneurial team about the opportunity and the road ahead. That passion needs to come through in the pitch and in the investor collateral. How, then, can there not be a lot of ambitious, adjective-heavy language in the presentations? On the other hand, we are saying we want presentations (or reports to the board of directors) stripped bare of flowery, superfluous language. Are there competing interest to juggle here? Not really. Basically, the idea is to be rigorous and ruthless in editing the materials you are sending to prospective (or current) investors. The passion should still come through.

Michelangelo was once asked how he carved a horse from a massive chunk of marble. He famously replied that he chipped away anything that did not look like a horse. Do likewise. Before hitting that Send button, print out all your documents, break out the red Sharpie, and really have at it. As best you can, try to look at things with fresh eyes and cut away any descriptive language, figures of speech, hyperbole, or other things that might detract from what you are trying to communicate.

This does not mean dumb down your materials. Simply limit yourself to details that support your conclusions without just providing your conclusions. As Dave Hornik states properly in his post, don’t tell me you just hired a “fantastic” sales guy, tell me why he’s fantastic. What has he done? Has he blown out the quarterly number the last three years running at his last position? Great. But let me be the one who determines that he is, indeed, “fantastic.” Depending on my experience hiring and evaluating sales people, we may have different hurdles for what constitutes “fantastic.” The same goes for insipid assessments like “collossal growth”,”exponential user traffic” and the like. These phrases communicate nothing. Let the facts speak for themselves. With any luck, the facts will support such hyperbole and the investors will come to their own frothy conclusions. It will then seem like it was ‘their’ discovery that things are so “spectacular” at the company. I think that is another one of those well-worn car salesman maxims, by the way: let the customer convince himself that it was his idea to buy the car. Now, that’s a neat trick.

Bear Stearns…and unmitigated gall

25 Mar

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As the Tom Hanks character, Capt Miller, says in a pivotal scene in Saving Private Ryan, “We are in uncharted waters here, and things have taken a turn for the surreal.”

Predictably, the finger-pointing regarding the mortgage bailout/credit crisis mess is well underway–even while the fallout is far from over and office pools on which Wall Street lion is next to fall (Lehman? Citi?) rivals the betting pools on some March Madness brackets. Perhaps fittingly, certain Wall Streeters whose banks were elbow deep in subprime mortgage CDOs are now adopting the “blame the victim” strategy as a way to allay their own damning culpability.

Wall Street firms in general, and Bear Stearns in particular, were never considered soft and fuzzy places of employ. As more than one former Bear banker recalled to me, Bear Stearns was a place where stabbing in the back was not only OK, it was rewarded. How ironic that the firm legendary for its sharp elbows and tough love demeanor (remember their refusal to help in the 1998 Long Term Capital Management bailout, anyone?) is now whining that, in effect, the bald-pated devil by the name of Ben Bernanke made them do it.

As Dennis Millermight say, I don’t want to go off on a rant here, but…This latest argument emanating from the economists at Bear Stearns is unmitigated gall.

John Ryding, Bear’s chief economist, and his cohorts argued in a recently released report that the Fed’s fast-and-loose monetary policies were squarely to blame for the housing crisis and–by extension–for the fall of the house of Bear. Mr. Ryding is a bright fellow. I actually know him personally and have enjoyed more than a few adult beverages with him at any number of overpriced Manhattan hotel bars discussing all manner of subjects. But, on this issue, he is clearly overreaching.

Yes, it’s fairly evident that Fed policy–principally under Greenspan, although Bernanke was a Fed governor during the relevant period–did stoke the housing and credit bubble. It can also be persuasively argued that the Fed dragged its feet on taking away the punch bowl once the froth starting appearing with earnest in 2004-2006. Blame can also be squarely placed on both political parties for either blocking legislation to regulate predatory lending or simply not enforcing existing laws and oversight responsibilities. No matter. The unravelling has begun.

What’s positively laughable is that these Bear economists are making the argument that the Fed is responsible for the egregious risks their bank and its affiliated hedge funds took–even while the sub-prime market was clearly beginning to buckle. Other Wall Street banks may have sipped from the same glass but they had the foresight to back away and maintain proper exposure. Losses are now being sustained throughout Wall Street’s pedigreed firms, but not to the extent that they have been at Bear Stearns as to wreck the legendary firm. Bear Stearns doubled down, pure and simple. It took enormous risks. Had those risks paid off, I doubt there would have been any appetite among the Bear Stearns partnership to share those spoils with the US taxpayers. Now that those bets have imploded, it is the US taxpayer (through a complex arrangement worked out in the JPMorgan deal) that will be on the hook for as much as $29 Billion. That’s Billion with a “B.”

 I’ll search my files from other equally comical excuses in US business lore, but it won’t be easy.  Heck, I’ll even settle for run-of-the-mill excuses. The infamous case of the woman suing McDonalds because her coffee was too hot comes to mind, but it’s not nearly good or ironic enough. How about, “sorry I totalled your Lamborghini, Dad, but you made the garage too easy to break into and I am young and impressionable.” Actually, that’s not all that funny–happened to a friend of mine.

In any event, all manner of crises bring out creative finger-pointing but these from Bear Stearns may represent a new level of cowardice, hubris and gall. Bravo, gentlemen. Braaavo.

The 48-Hour Rule

20 Mar

The venture industry is famous – nay, infamous – for the long goodbye. As a group, we venture capitalists typically squirm in our Aeron chairs at the idea of giving a firm NO to a company we choose not to fund. There are myriad reasons for this–some sensible, some less so. The most cited justification for the “squishy no” has to do with the fear that that entrepreneur may come up with something better on his or her next go-round and, God forbid, said venture investor might miss out on the next Google/YouTube/Skype/insert-your-startup-home-run-deal-here investment.

To be truthful, this is not that bad of a justification, to which any venture investor who has given a firm ‘No’ to an entrepreneur can attest. Rejection can be a hellish blow. No matter how couched it can be in constructive and measured language, it’s difficult to de-couple the personal rejection from the one aimed solely at the company seeking funding. After all, one of the key assets of any venture deal is the team itself; so, how then can one reject an investment in a company and there not be an implied rejection of the team inherent therein?

A decision was made long ago that, as a firm, we made it a point to offer prompt responses to pitches and submissions from entrepreneurs–particularly when that submission involved an in-person meeting, call or referral. We try to be as disciplined with cold, over-the-transom submissions, but the sheer volume of those requests are harder to sort through. I think I speak for most venture investors in that regard. We try, but we do not always succeed.

On balance, I think it’s been the right decision but it’s not been smooth sailing. There have been more than a few occasions when I penned a long email to an entrepreneur calmly explaining my firm’s position not to move forward only to receive a rant about my “not getting it”, casting aspersion as to my lineage, my intelligence, and basically insinuating that my parents commingled with livestock. Serves me right, I suppose. While there has been some blowback to our Radical Honesty-esque approach, I think the decision to lay out the rationale for where, when and why we might invest in a company has led to many more referrals from grateful entrepreneurs than sour grapes from those that couldn’t handle it. What sustains me is the notion that offering clarity, and some honest advice, to an aspiring entrepreneur is a function of what a good venture investor should do. Capital is but only one tangible aspect of what a good VC offers. The intangibles include relationships, advice, support, and a host of other things.

All this being said, the truth is that entrepreneurs are too often insulated from some uncomfortable realities about the fundability of new enterprises. Put simply, the vast majority of companies seeking funding will not be successful in attaining that funding. Those companies will fail. Frankly, most of those companies should fail. It is the nature of things and has been a central aspect of venture capital since the very beginning.

For entrepreneurs seeking funding, it behooves one to keep in mind the old car salesman axiom that deals happen within the first 48 Hours or they typically don’t happen at all.

While there are always exceptions to every rule, I find that maxim to be fairly accurate and directly applicable–not simply for raising venture rounds, but for life in general. The 48 Hour rule applies equally to job interviews, mortgage applications, and–dare I say it–even dating. [If you have doubts, think about the last few jobs you were offered. I would wager that those employers moved quickly. You may not have had an offer in 48 Hours but more likely than not, you heard something within 48 Hours of the interview indicating things were moving forward.]

So, if you are an entrepreneur and if you’ve pitched a venture investor and he (or his firm) has not gotten back to you in 48 Hours with some response (next meeting scheduled, due diligence questions, follow up questions, requests, etc) he’s not interested. Move on.

Again, refer to the 48 Hour rule. Human nature would appear to dictate that something that stirs the imagination would compel action within a short time frame. A venture investment is an undertaking. There is a process involved. It’s laborious. That would necessitate pushing other things off his or her desk and making time for you. This does not happen lightly.

Remember: when things happen, they tend to happen quickly. If a venture investor has not decided in 48 Hours if he or she even wants to take a next step, he doesn’t. Inaction is a form of action. In other words, doing nothing is doing something–namely, nothing.

For entrepreneurs, the issue is how to handle the “No response response.” Grit your teeth, take it as a ‘No’, and move on. Resist the urge to send a flame mail. Sure, it might feel good for about 10 minutes, but once you hit that Reply button, those sentiments will go away quickly, and there will be a nasty, petty email floating out there for eternity replete with all your rawest emotions on full display, and that display is a 60″ LCD Flat screen. You really don’t want that.

Just slightly less annoying than the “no response response” to many entrepreneurs is the “kick the can down the road” response. It usually contains the phrase “keep us posted on your progress” and gives a vague suggestion that the firm might invest at a later stage or round.  Truth be told, this can often be an honest assessment. We have seen many deals that we liked but, for stage and development reasons, were not appropriate for us. We liked the companies and genuinely wanted to stay in touch. Don’t misread these signals. While it is an impossibility to delineate those firms who truly want to stay in the loop on your company’s progress from those that are simply passing without clearly articulating that, the best strategy is to do precisely what the venture firms ask: keep them posted.

A final point is to embrace these tendencies in venture circles as something a startup team needs to come to terms with. I have seen some start-up CEOs adopt the tactic of trying to “respond in kind” by being, well, taciturn jerks with venture investors. Bad idea. While this post is about the value of understanding the 48-Hour rule, there is also something known as the Golden Rule–he who has the gold makes the rules. At the end of the day, venture investors control much of the capital that you need to take your company to the next step. Being openly hostile to venture investors or imposing false time constraints on them — i.e., “you need to let me know today if you’re funding us…”etc — rarely works. Better to be accommodating and take on a positive demeanor. After all, the venture investors are looking at you as a possible partner and if they already get a sense that you will be difficult, a prima donna, and an overall pain in the arse, the pitch is over before it even began.

As I once said to a ‘difficult’ start-up CEO who tried to impose false time constraints on his deal: “Hey, who died and made you Sergey Brin…”

Risk, Recklessness and Spitzer

12 Mar

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Tragedy is one of those wildly overused words in our often sensationalism-obsessed media. At the risk of appearing a bit pedantic or insensitive, I tend to roll my eyes when an on-the-scene reporter discusses the “tragedy” of a gang shooting, or of an interstate pile-up, or of some other painful event. A busload of students going over a cliff is a horrific accident, to be sure; it is not, however, a tragedy. A tragedy is a literary work in which the protagonist comes to ruin by some innate moral weakness or other flaw.

Governor Spitzer’s personal career immolation is one such tragedy. It is the colossal fall of a fast rising leader of almost Shakespearean, if not biblical, proportions.  Apart from the personal sadness one might feel for the Spitzer family and for others who have hitched a ride on the soon-to-be-ex Governor’s star and may suffer personal and career consequences as a result, it has spurred some thinking for me around the notions of risk, recklessness, hubris and leadership.

Like it or not, we are in the risk business. Calculations are made daily around absorbing some form of risk — a new investment, a key hire, a partnership arrangement, etc. These decisions are so common as to be almost second nature. Andy Rachleff, the renowned former Benchmark Capital partner, once remarked to me: ‘show me a venture capitalist that has not lost money, and I will show you someone out of work.’ Andy’s point, of course, was that if a venture investor has never lost money, he/she is not taking on enough risk. That tolerance for taking on risk, and the judgment that goes behind those wrenching decisions, is what separates great investors from everyone else.

This leads me to behavior, character, and personality. Much has been said about the importance to venture investors of backing (and hiring) great people of solid character and reputations beyond reproach. That’s all well and good, but like most things in life, there is very little black and white out there; it’s mostly varying shades of grey. In the spirit of Andy Rachleff’s maxim, if a venture investor waits for the ‘perfect’ entrepreneur with the ‘perfect’ deal, there will never be very much in that firm’s portfolio. There are no perfect deals, nor perfect entrepreneurs. Every deal has hair on it. It falls to the judgement of the venture capitalist and his or her firm to determine the quality of that deal and that entrepreneur in the context of many other factors that must be considered.  

In my career I have known great entrepreneurs and more than a few bad ones, just as I have worked under strong, capable bosses as well as under one or two that had (ahem) ethical struggles. Fortunately, no one was ever carted away in handcuffs, although one got very close. My point is that no amount of due diligence is going to surface every possible issue or tendency that could emerge in a potential partner, portfolio company CEO, or key hire. Even associates and friends closest to Mr. Spitzer were blindsided by yesterday’s revelations.

What can be learned by all this is that as much as many of us would like to “normalize” what we do and what it means to be in the start-up/venture capital world, this is a strange but wonderful industry populated by exceedingly bright, driven, complicated people. There is a facet of self-selection here that rivals most other industries and, indeed, most other parts of the world. Throw a rock down Sand Hill Road and you will hit seven people with type A personalities, who have six patents under their names, have run and sold five companies, speak four languages, have three top-tier graduate degrees, two percent bodyfat, and run one marathon each weekend. The melting pot, this isn’t.

The kinds of qualities that would make someone capable of getting other very smart people to invest millions into an idea are not that common. And it is those qualities that can just as easily be used for less honorable pursuits. Most great entrepreneurs I have worked with had, let’s say, a healthy self-image. Along with that “healthy self-image” or ego comes a power to persuade and commit other people to a certain vision or point of view that does not simply shut itself off after working hours. Great passion and persuasive powers can be like a drug, and any drug can be misused.

If I have learned anything from the Spitzer episode, it is not to over-react (as I am sure the media will compel many to do) and institute stricter vetting, safeguards, etc, but instead to embrace this kind of “unknowable” risk in people as an unavoidable part of what risk-taking is about when it comes to building new companies. Spectacular people fail spectacularly, in many cases. Building teams of people that can complement (and hence, buffer) strong and powerful personalities is one way to mitigate the flameout factor, but it’s only a start. Unlike more craven people bent on dishonesty, otherwise honorable leaders who are undone by their own personal flaws usually do the greatest damage to themselves in the long run; and for that we should above all else offer them our sympathy and compassion. 

$15 Billion Folly

3 Mar

In prior posts I have made the argument that while I have been a fan of what certain social networks have been able to achieve, the Achilles heel of social networking to date has been (and remains to be, in my opinion) the ‘hot new club’ phenomenon. That is to say, those social networks that have had the good fortune of being able to attract a critical mass of users — Friendster, MySpace, etc — have subsequently seen an exodus of those users (or at least a precipitous slowdown in growth and traffic) as the social network ages and loses its intangible buzz or ‘coolness’ factor. The beneficiaries of the user exodus are often newer social networking competitors who might offer a richer user experience or just a perceived “hipper” environment for consumers in which to spend time and interact.

Last fall, the announcement of Microsoft’s $240 Million investment in Facebook set the social networking and broader Web 2.0 space ablaze. Crafty finance types quickly broke out their green eye shades and Number 2 lead pencils and divined that the 1.6% interest that Microsoft acquired for its $240 Million equated with a valuation for Facebook of some $15 Billion. In some respects, the Web 2.0 and social networking landscape has not been the same since.

In short order, virtually every Web 2.0 company’s investor PowerPoint working its way up and down Sand Hill Road or Route 128 had factored in the $15 Billion Facebook valuation in their models. This typically resulted in huge step-ups in the perceived value of these properties by the entrepreneurs (and, often, the early investors). In the aftermath, some term sheets — in process for months, in many cases — collapsed under the weight of revised and misaligned expectations between investors and company management teams. Other times, discussions broke down completely. I was recently quoted on this point in a local media piece (here) and I continue to hold my original position that the $15 Billion figure “anchored” in the minds of certain participants in the community from the Microsoft investment in Facebook has created a host of complications for venture investors and companies themselves in getting financings done.

Entire volumes can be penned on what goes on in the minds of Microsoft senior managers in the deals they make and the valuations they set on investments. My crystal ball is not likely to be any clearer than most. What I can say with some degree of confidence, however, is that what Microsoft values for its corporate development purposes has little bearing on what a “market” valuation would be for a Web 2.0 company such as Facebook when facing a venture financing. I’ll say it again: I see no reasonable or logical rationale for a $15 Billion valuation for Facebook. Again, this is only my own strongly held view. I am more than happy to hear conflicting arguments on this.

I go over these points again now in the wake of considerable chatter in the community over the current and growing perception, as described well by Michael Parekh, of a Facebook fatique setting in. Has Facebook jumped the shark? Do the metrics support this? Or is this just digerati snarkiness and schadenfreude over a few of Zuckerberg and Co.’s stumbles of late (Beacon, anyone?)

I am not entirely convinced, but I do sense an overall fatigue for social networks in general. I commented on this in an earlier post and remain sanguine that most social networks have yet to find solid ways of driving value for users. Informal polls we conduct now and again seem to support this. Most admit to belonging to 2 or 3 or 10 social networks, but getting very little out of the participation. The result of this is that scar tissue has begun to form around this area of social networking as more consumers openly admit to being resistant, if not downright hostile, to the idea of joining yet another social network.

Parekh and others point to a slightly different kind of fatigue. The fatigue they illuminate is around the demands placed on users through their participation in social networks — the endless pokes, pings, twitter-like messages about their friends’ latest forays to the dry cleaners, and on and on. Truth is, much of the “content” coming out of social networking platforms are inane blather. This is proving to be taxing to a lot of consumers and, dare I say it, they may begin looking for more fertile fields to hang out and interact with one another. While I admire Facebook for being forward thinking about this inevitable consumer attrition/exodus inherent in the Web 2.0 sphere, they really need to tighten their ship around these compounding user burdens.

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