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The increasingly inaccurately-named blog of journalist and futurist Chris Taylor. Either the most sporadically brilliant amateur blog, the most brilliantly amateur sporadic blog, or the most amateur sporadic brilliance on the Web since 2001.
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Who are you?
I'm the newly-appointed Future editor at Business 2.0 and the former San Francisco correspondent for Time Magazine.
Wow, so does this mean everything you write reflects Time Inc's opinion? Or do you perhaps have some sort of standard disclaimer to the effect that it doesn't?
Naturally, the opinions contained in this blog are not those of my employers. In fact, some opinions may be the polar opposite of my employers. Some may be the same, for all I know. Hey, it's not like I ask my employers their opinions about everything in the news, okay? Let's just say that if this were a Venn diagram with one circle marked "my opinions" and the other one marked "my employers' opinions", there would doubtless be some overlap. But neither I nor my employers are able to pinpoint exactly where that overlap is.
What is this Daily Blah thing?
An experiment for a column I wrote about blogging back in December 2001. All these years later, I haven't been able to kick the habit.
Do you write any other blogs, by chance? Could that have something to do with the fact that Daily Blah isn't always Daily?
Yes -- the Future Boy blog for Business 2.0. And yes. If you want true, editorially-mandated daily coverage from me, that's probably the best place to look.
Mister, you talk funny. Are you one of them furrners?
Why yes I am, as it happens. I was born, raised and educated in Great Britain. I've been living in the U.S. since 1996 and identify as British.
I say, old chap, you forgot the "u" in "colour."
No I didn't. I may identify as British, but I am also an American journalist writing for an American audience about mostly American issues. These two different sides of me are a constant source of tension. Nevertheless, Daily Blah will adhere to American English grammar and spelling.
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Daily Blah for... Sunday, June 25, 2006
Double Dutchies
One of the best World Cup parties I ever experienced was on the beach at Marseilles in 1998, the semi final, Holland v Brazil, as we watched on a big screen and the Mediterranean lapped at our toes. Brazillian fans are fantastic, the best in the world, but the Dutch come damn close. There's more of a sense of irony about their fandom -- everyone wears clogs and ridiculous orange headgear. When your national color makes you look like a highlighter pen, I suppose, you might as well take it all the way.
I was sitting in the Kezar Pub this morning with Aaron and Rachel, lamenting another ignoble, anxiety-fraught England victory, this time against Ecuador, when in streamed a good hundred Dutch fans for their game against Portugal. Here we were in San Francisco, six thousand miles further from Amsterdam than Marseilles is, and all of a sudden it felt like I was back on that beach amongst the same fun-loving Netherlanders. Every one of them had a different accessory -- a flag, orange bunting, an orange superhero cape, a lucky lion, nifty orange scarves that zipped up together and connected every smiling head. I love my fellow fans, but a team jersey and a pint are about the limits of English accessorizing.
Within minutes they had decorated the pub, bought us drinks, made us kiss the lucky lion and wrapped their orange scarves around us. They were beautiful. I felt a bit guilty for my previously declared position on Holland v Portugal: "I don't care who wins as long as it's the worse team, and as long as they suffer lots of red cards, injuries and fights" -- so that England faces a weakened team in the next round.
Be careful what you wish for in the World Cup, because of course that's exactly what the game brought us. Hard to believe that one game could contain so many flying ninja-kick tackles, or that the ref could allow civilized play to break down so fast. I learned some choice Dutch words today as San Francisco's friendliest fans screamed at the screens. And to see them so dejected when it was all over, to have gone out in such a dirty manner -- it was heartbreaking. "Don't worry," I told them. "We'll get revenge for you next week when we play Portugal." Well, we're going to need all the support we can get -- and who better to have it from?
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