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I'm spending the day at Under the Radar in Mountain View. Depending on the wifi that means not very much, or quite a lot happening here. I was trying to send an email as I was heading out the door, and got a message saying my session had expired and I needed to log on again. Okay, so I went to the top level of Gmail, preparing to enter my username and password, and got this sarcastic screen instead (Lockdown in sector 4, geez Louise), saying my mail would be inaccessibe for up to 24 hours. Serves me right for choosing Google for my main mail address. I can't be 24 hours without email. (PS: It's only the web interface that's turned off, I can get in through the POP account.) Doc Searls reviews the choices for Macintosh sound. Heather Green: "There isn't a huge amount of money to be made just on podcasts and that the disruptive nature of podcasts lie in the fact that most people will be doing them for themselves and their friends and families." Amen. Private Lives, March 1955: "Joan Crawford's power -- her abuse of people who refuse to bow to her, her control of the casting, direction, and production of her pictures, is the disgrace of Hollywood." In case you think the blogosphere is mean-spirited, we still have a ways to go before we match Hollywood. I'm pretty sure we're going there anyway.
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