by Chadwick Matlin

By the time I took my seat at [TechConference] on Monday, I had already seen its host’s logo 51 times. The name was printed twice on my conference badge, five times on the lanyard holding that badge, 16 times in the conference agenda, nine times on the side wall of the conference’s main hall, and finally all over the 20-logo tessellation on the stage background. (A giant wooden statue outside the front door spelled out its initials, but we won’t count that.) As I sat down for the first panel, heavy synth-and-bass beats shook the speakers overhead. It was the conference’s theme song. The only lyric: The conference’s name, recited — not sung — over and over again.

It’s the bubble-era tech startup conference — a self-promotional bazaar. In the main alley, you’ll find four aisles of startups, most of whom paid anywhere between $2,000-$30,000 each to set up a booth and hawk their wares. Like Greenpeace canvassers, they stalk the floor in branded t-shirts, waiting for you to show the first moment of weakness. Just as quickly as they grab your eyes they’ll reach for your hand, and soon thereafter you’ll have their business card, fingering it with the anxiousness of a man who has nowhere to go but who wants to be anywhere but where he is. This is why they’ve paid their thousands of dollars, so that you can give them venture capital, press coverage or a new employee. The potential for a million-dollar check is worth the price of admission; the price of admission might be more than the startup will ever make in profit.

But no company is as interested in your attention as the conference’s host, [GatekeeperBlog]. For years the blog has proved expert at perpetuating its own legend as the sun around which all of technology orbits. [TechConference] is designed so that reporters and toadies and entrepreneurs will, for three days at least, be forced to say the host’s name over and over. Attendees have no choice but to become complicit.

Led by its ill-tempered founder, [AngryBlogger], [GatekeeperBlog] has become the Variety of Silicon Valley, a force really so dominant that one must read it if one wants to be informed, even if the publication itself has metastasized. One post on the blog can turn perceptions of a startup from fledgling to fast-rising, and in reality too: a shortcut to finding both validation and funding.

On Day 1 [AngryBlogger] interviewed both of his bosses, [NewsMogul] and [EmbattledCEO]. [GatekeeperBlog] was purchased by [EmbattledCEO’s] [OldDotComCompany] in September, and soon thereafter [EmbattledCEO] also purchased [NewsMogul’s] startup, a risky decision that has only served to piss off seemingly everyone who has ever written for [NewsMogul]. “Will it work?” [AngryBlogger] asked [NewsMogul] about their shotgun marriage, before wondering whether he’ll have a performance review this year. [NewsMogul], never shy about staring at her own navel, told him “I’m going to get you drunk and then see what happens.” The audience laughed, voyeurs to an inside joke. Likewise, [AngryBlogger] began his interview with [Embattled CEO] by saying, “It was awkward when I found out I was working for [NewsMogul]. I don’t like working for people.” For some perspective about how much else there was to talk about, note that [EmbattledCEO] runs a $2.1 billion company. [GatekeeperBlog] was purchased for tens of millions.

On Day 3, a founder of [CompetitorBlog] was brought on stage via [VideoChatService] to discuss why he raised $6 million in venture capital. But the questions were only about [CompetitorBlog] in relation to [GatekeeperBlog]. A [GatekeeperBlog] employee asked, “Are you building a very different media company than we did?” Later [AngryBlogger] spent 60 seconds on stage with [GoogleHigherUp], recounting his best April Fool’s jokes, one of which was at her expense: “I thought it was really funny.” She chuckled. The audience remained stoic.

The genius of the conference is that it’s a three-day event built around this power dynamic that also costs thousands of dollars to come watch. (Attendees were asked to pay anywhere between $1,795 and $2,995 per person, with special deals for exhibitors, sponsors and the like. Journalists, including this one, got in for free — they spread the word.)

Its other stroke of genius is a main event: a “startup battlefield,” a tournament where 31 startups compete to win the conference and $50,000. Somebody from a health care startup told me that just being selected to participate in the battlefield is “a badge of honor.” Badges! There’s a startup for that.

The startups knew that the people with the checkbooks are watching. That’s why there were testimonials. The winners from past iterations of the conference got on stage for “Alumni Updates” on Day 3. One, a startup whose name is even more nonsensical than its plan to create automated encyclopedia entries about any topic, explained that cable news covered their launch live from their makeshift office/garage in northern California. It’s also raised $10.5 million. It’s a pretty wonderful tale; all of this year’s contestants are hoping the same can happen to them.

The contestants this year included: an app that notifies your friends when you’re visiting their city (an alternative: email); an app that “algorithmically generates plans tailored to your occasion” (an alternative: deciding for yourself); an app that lets you keep track of everything you spend (an alternative: a journal); a new operating system that for now can only run within existing operating systems (an alternative: said existing operating systems); and a “social publishing service for the mobile generation” that creates “real world stories through photos” (an alternative: inviting your friends over and telling them the story in person, or, you know, sending them photos).

When startups aren’t making their pitches (best described as six-minute cocktails of various parts dreams, delusion and desperation), attendees are left to listen to navel-gazing conferences or wander the conference floor. Out there, [TechConference] isn’t just about self-promotion for the attendees and the hosts, it’s also a canvas for its advertisers. Hang out in the sponsored [DatingApp] lounge, a porously walled-off section of the floor with luminescent tables and metallic stools. Don’t like the aesthetic in there? Then leave and take 20 steps into a different one sponsored by [EnergyDrink], complete with a MAC International truck retrofitted to fit a DJ in the flatbed and a [VideogameSystem] in the taillights. Exhausted? Have a seat on the bean-bag chairs in the corner. But make sure not to cover [PotatoChip’s] logo that’s printed on the upholstery.

By the end of Day 3, it’s a cocktail sponsored by [PrivateCompanyStockExchange] right before the [TechConference] Cup winner is announced. (The winner gets an actual oversized silver chalice.) Who will it be? [CarSharingApp]? [MobileInvoiceApp]? [ContactIntroductionApp]? [MobileSearchApp]? [FraudProtectionApp]? Or the darkhorse: [EmailEnhancementApp]?

[AngryBlogger] got up and without much suspense announced that the crowd favorite, [CarSharingApp], had won. Employees screamed in excitement, hugging one another and swigging champagne. Cameras at the foot of the stage clicked to capture [CarSharingApp’s] big moment. The only other thing sharing the stage: a cartoonishly large $50,000 check with [TechConference’s] logo in the upper-left corner.

Chadwick Matlin is a freelance journalist in Brooklyn. He’s on Twitter, but would far rather you just email him.

Photo by Frank Bonilla.

Remember how, back at the outset of last summer, you promised yourself that this time you weren’t going to let the season go to waste? How you had such ambitious hopes and schemes? And how, seemingly seconds later, Labor Day rolled around and you were all, “Wait! What? I… d’oh!”

Well, that’s alright. Summers are meant to be wasted. They are the disposable months of the year during which expectations are low and performance follows accordingly. You’re sweaty, you’re listless, you’re not trying very hard… and it’s okay. It’s summer! Relax! And you know what? If you’re going to waste your summer, you might as well spend your summer wasted. May I suggest a cocktail?

While some opt for the Dark and Stormy, and others plump for the Negroni (with unfortunate consequences), we take a different libation where I’m from. The Official Balk Family Drink of the Summer is, at heart, a gin and tonic, but with one important addition: a splash of Campari.

Too simple, you say? Ah, my friend, you obviously have not had The Official Balk Family Drink of the Summer. While there’s nothing wrong with your basic gin and tonic, the splash of Campari… oh, the difference it makes. It is also an excellent test of manliness (if you are a man), since you have to be comfortable enough with yourself to be holding a pink drink throughout the afternoon and into the evening. I probably do not need to do this, but just in case your brain is as fried as mine is right now, here’s how you make a gin and tonic with a splash of Campari:

INGREDIENTS
Gin (The Balk Family prefers Tanqueray, but feel free to use your brand of choice. I would avoid Bombay Sapphire, however; the saltiness that makes it so exquisite in a Martini does not play well with the tang of the tonic and bite of the Campari in this drink.)
Tonic
Campari
Ice
Lime

DIRECTIONS
1. Pour gin and tonic over ice into a highball glass. I have a heavy hand, and tend to pour a ratio of 1:1 when it comes to gin and tonic, but that does not go over well with everyone, and, come to think of it, I have never served this drink without at least one person ending up in tears, which may have something to do with the large amount of gin. Use your best judgment.

2. Add a splash of Campari. How much is a splash? Generations of Balks have debated this very subject with Talmudic levels of interpretation. You will eventually find your own metric, but for now do this: Fill the cap of the Campari bottle to the top, and dump it into the drink.

3. Give it one quick yet gentle stir.

4. Squeeze the lime into the drink and then garnish. Always lime, never lemon. (There is a possibly apocryphal tale about a relative who once attempted to use an orange, only to be drummed out of the family, but the story has never been verified and I have never had the urge to see how such an unorthodox and disturbing idea would play out in practice. You don’t mess with perfection.)

5. Sit back, relax and watch your summer go by like every summer before has, borne aloft on the wings of alcohol and its boon of temporary forgetfulness. I mean, yeah, you could probably do the same thing with beer, but this is much much better. Enjoy!

“If human beings can make direct campaign contributions… and if, in Citizens United’s interpretation… corporations and human beings are entitled to equal political speech rights, then corporations must also be able to contribute within (the federal) limits.”
 — That is logically true, U.S. District Court for Eastern Virginia! It’s just one or two more steps until we give up the whole pretense.

Charlie

Tallyman

DJ

Dynamite

Sandman

Pitiful

Bojangles

Cool

Big Stuff

“T”

Know-it-all

Spain

Magic

Sophisticator

T.

Telephone Man

Big Stuff

Scarface

Doblina

Grimm

Ripper

Meth

Magic (and Cee)

Smith

DJ

Mista

Serv-On

Biggs

Don’t Play Everythangs Working

Magic

Cheeks

Lif

Collipark

Jones

Jones

Cool

F.A.B.

DJ

Carter

Flintstone

Steal Your Girl

Every year, “Urban Beach Week,” in which (mostly) black people from all over the south converge on Miami Beach for fun and concerts and stuff, causes huge white anxiety. But no one’s racist! “David Kelsey, president of the South Beach Hotel & Restaurant Association, says friction over the holiday weekend has been less about race than the conflict between the young party crowd and the luxury tourist clientele Miami Beach actively courts. ‘There’s still a gulf between the crowd we’re attracting and the crowd we really want to attract and need for future business,’ Kelsey said.” He did!

Sure, who likes a bunch of partying kids? They throw up a lot, it’s boring. But so “future business” is I guess… not black people, mostly. (Mostly white people prefer murderous Russian oligarchs — a much better class of character, I guess.) Except, for this weekend? “The Fontainebleau Miami Beach, where the average room starts at $389, is at least 97 percent booked.” And? “The street scene has been good to Prestige Luxury Auto Rentals in Miami, which had rented out 80 percent of its stock by Tuesday, including all its $2,000-a-day Lamborghinis and even pricier Ferraris.” So you know, “they” are all luxurious enough to rent the town’s entire stock of $2000-a-day rental cars but not luxurious enough to be… white. (Also, I’m sorry, have none of these white people ever set foot inside a Louis Vuitton store? Who do you think made that into a bajillion-dollar business?) Anyway, fine: more room at the Young Jeezy, Raekwon and Lil Wayne parties — and the Busta Rhymes All White Yacht Party. (LOL, yes he did.)

This bear cub is all, “Mom, wanna play with me? Mom! Mom! Come play with me! Play with me, Mom! Mom! Mom! Let’s play!” Spoiler: They play.

Here’s Martin Amis on Kingsley Amis’ use of the English language. If you’ve never read The King’s English, I highly recommend it; whether or not you concur with its precepts, you will certainly find plenty of things to enjoy. (For example.)

by David Roth and David Raposa

David Roth: Did you just see the ad for the prescription trigylceride medication with the line “side effects include burping?” Oh no, you didn’t, it was on the Mets game. You’re not watching the Mets game. You are so smart.

David Raposa: I thought gas was a natural Mets by-product

David Roth: Side effects of watching the Mets include sob-burping (or sobburping) as well as misery-bloat, teary eyes, perineal fenestration and perforated headaches.

David Raposa: Goddamn that Carlos Beltran.

David Roth: He’s only 65 to 70 percent as ridiculously over-blamed as he used to be.

David Raposa: He should try to hit more five-run homers. Do you think former Met great Jeff Francouer does the cabbage patch every time he sees them lose?

David Roth: So you’re assuming Frenchy doesn’t need to read that New Yorker Wilpon piece to feel the schadenfreude. That seems about right. Also I imagine Francouer as more of a New York magazine guy.

David Raposa: Are the Mets especially listless today, or just run-of-the-mill listless?

David Roth: Oh, especially. Lots of shamefacedness. I think Fred Wilpon just gave his the team that post-article conference-call pep-up talk.

David Roth: “Guys, I’m sorry I buried you to the New Yorker’s Supreme Court correspondent. I mean, I’m not the most sorry, that’s a poor choice of words. And to be fair, I pitched in high school when Harry Truman was president, so I know a little something about baseball.”

David Roth: “And I’ll refer you to the fact that you all do really suck a lot. So I guess what I’m calling to say is that I played baseball in high school, and was pretty good.”

David Raposa: Very nice — two parts Knute Rockne, two parts Neil LaBute. Needs more bees, though.

David Roth: Either Carlos Zambrano just got a RBI hit against the Mets or my TV just farted audibly.

David Raposa: It was moving in its seat, I’m sure.

David Roth: This has been a great week for baseball people talking shit. All of whom, endearingly, are terrible at their gigs. Brian Fuentes, Edinson Volquez, Fred W.

David Raposa: To be fair to Brian Fuentes, the reason he’s stunk is BECAUSE he’s not being used properly.

David Roth: You mean being used in baseball games, as a pitcher?

David Raposa: I’m talking about situational awareness. Geren should know Fuentes’ deal — 3 run lead, 2 outs, 9th place hitter at the plate. Anything less would be uncivilized. Fuentes is really like a Navy SEAL, but with worse aim.

David Roth: Put him into a tie game and you’re basically asking for… well, they should really talk about this with their therapist. I’m picturing some lady in Berkeley with a thick gray braid sitting those two dudes down. Really nubby sweater. Making them build their feelings with Lincoln Logs.

David Raposa: I’d rather see Chuck Liddell referee some no-holds-barred mediation. If only because Bob Geren should wall-kick Fuentes at least 20 times.

David Roth: Geren is one of those yoked managers. Buff older dudes are the scariest kind. The Michael Lohan Look. Or, alternately, The Bonaducified Male.

David Roth: (Also, I don’t know if this is disclosure or an exceptionally poor humblebrag, but Geren came to my summer camp when he was with the Yankees and taught everyone how to bunt. He seemed like a very nice man and I’m sorry I compared him to Michael Lohan)

David Raposa: I found an image of Mr. Lohan in a mesh shirt. And I will share it with you, because I hate that you made me Google this goober.

David Roth: Oh, he took it himself. That makes it a little… I don’t think there’s a disgusted-enough word in this language. German has one, I’m sure. The queasiness unto death.

David Raposa: For a guy that’s all about knowing his roles, though, Fuentes doesn’t seem to know that much. I don’t think he understands that the only reason he’s a nominal closing candidate is because I drafted Andrew Bailey on my fantasy team. (And Bailey tweaked his elbow, etc. etc.)

David Roth: Funny old universe. I have Fuentes on one of my fantasy teams. I think our dueling world-against-us fantasy baseball perspectives are coming into conflict. I almost blame myself for the Marlon Byrd getting hit in the face thing. Being on one of my fantasy teams is VERY DANGEROUS.

David Raposa: So did Volquez lose his shit as well this week, or is he letting his game do the shit-losing for him?

David Roth: He pitched like Ed Volquez, then got on his team for not scoring more runs. If they scored an average of 6.4 runs per game, he’d be 8–0.

David Raposa: There’s your 2014 Yankee reclamation project.

David Roth: He’s in Triple-A, now, to work on his command and being-an-a-hole issues.

David Roth: So, I came fairly close to buying a Denard Span name-and-number t-shirt in Minnesota last weekend as a souvenir of my visit.

David Raposa: Why Span and not some other Twinkie?

David Roth:: If there was a Danny Valencia one available, I’d be wearing it now.

David Raposa: Where have you gone, Nick Punto; a tourist turns his lonely eyes to the 50% discount shelf…

David Roth: I always admire the people that wear very outdated name-and-number tees to Mets games. I saw an Armando Reynoso one a few years ago and came closer to high-fiving a stranger than maybe I ever have.

David Raposa: I want to say I saw a Benny Agbayani shirt out in the wild a little while ago. (Armando Reynoso!)

David Roth: They existed. I have a Tsuyoshi Shinjo one, but it’s too orange and small and ridiculous for me to wear, even though he’s one of my favorite bad Mets.

David Raposa: That’s the sort of dedication / sports-store bargain shopping I can appreciate. My favorite memory of Shinjo, MLB Player, is of some dude in the Yankee Stadium bleachers yelling at him for about 8.5 innings. And making “Flushing = toilet” jokes to boot.

David Roth: There are many reasons why that wouldn’t matter to Shinjo. Beyond the language comprehension issues. But my favorite is because he’s like some combination of Justin Timberlake, Mickey Mantle and A Really Popular Underwear Model in Japan.

David Raposa: Shinjo’s undeniable charisma & sexiness didn’t translate well. I’m sure those infield pop-ups he hit over here were majestic panty-drenching bombs over there.

David Roth: His off-field game was tight, though. Always with the mortgage-payment handmade loafers and experimental, meticulously styled hair.

David Roth: He was a proud dandy on a team of bass-fishing middle relievers. David Weathers wouldn’t even brush his teeth for fear of seeming effeminate. He considered teriyaki-flavored beef jerky unpatriotic.

David Raposa: On a team starting Rey Ordonez, Timo Perez, and Jay Payton, Shinjo’s foot couture was the least of the team’s problems.

David Roth: And Shinjo showed up at Shea every day in experimental trousers and $750 shades. He was a living petition for a spot in Madonna’s un-produced second “Sex” book, but he also blazed a trail for So Taguchi.

David Raposa: Still waiting for whichever “Head of The Class” alum is running Nick Jr. to greenlight “THAT’S SO TAGUCHI.”

David Roth: When they finally launch NickSports, it’ll crush. “That’s So Taguchi,” “iMajerle”…

David Raposa: “Millar & Me”

David Roth: “The Suite Life of Zach Greinke and Cody Ransom.” By the way, I KNOW A LOT ABOUT NICKELODEON APPARENTLY.

David Raposa: I’d agree, but I don’t want to show how much I know.

David Roth: I have neither kids nor excuse. A lot of cultural junk gets caught in my brain. It’s like that Pacific Garbage Gyre in here. All fervent opinions on the Marlins Triple-A team and Top Five Best Michael Madsen Performances and Sandwiches I Have Loved.

David Raposa: I need to read what you read.

David Roth: Nothing that ever appeared on any test or impressed any lady-human.

David Raposa: Holy shit I just saw a pic of Jeff Szamardjia (sp, inevitably) And he looks like his last name’s spelled!

David Roth: Yeah, he’s got the prep school mullet jumping off. I imagine that the dude has worn a visor or two in his day, while emphatically saying “bro” to express disagreement about something.

David Raposa: It’s disconcerting seeing 21st-century dudes in their 20s rocking ‘dos and facial hair like they’re AMERICAN MOVIE extras.

David Roth: With the exception of Lincecum, who can’t help it.

David Raposa: It’s a shame not everyone can have an edge like you-know-who.

David Roth: Derek Jeter, a haircut and unthreateningly unfashionable jeans you can set your watch by.

David Raposa: Also, his commercial work reminds me of 6th-grade book reports and really awful job interviews.

David Roth: Tense n’ grinny.

David Raposa: JETERIAN.

David Roth: That says it all. Stiffly.

David Roth co-writes the Wall Street Journal’s Daily Fix, contributes to the sports blog Can’t Stop the Bleeding and has his own little website. And he tweets!

David Raposa writes about music for Pitchfork and other places. He used to write about baseball for the blog formerly known as Yard Work. He occasionally blogs for himself, and he also tweets way too much.

Photo by Jeff Marquis, from Flickr.

“The charitable way of looking at startups like Karizma, ‘a location based video chat messenger that banks on the theory that people want to video chat with people who are geographically close to them,’ or Sonar, which allows people to ‘connect with others right around them for […] live interactions,’ is to say that they have the potential to connect us to other people in a manner totally unlike, say, Facebook. That is: in real life. But let’s be honest, this is insane.”

Will Brooklyn get the First Lady it deserves? Jason Gay thinks yes.