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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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Daily Blah FAQ
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.
Praise for Daily Blah:
"It is fun to watch the author's navel-gazing joy." - Sunday Times (UK)
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"Dude, lay off the crack pipe." - Souris Hong-Porretta, gamesmith
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Daily Blah for... Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Eleven Idiot Sons
England fandom, I tell the friends who have unfortunately been sucked into my World Cup vortex, is not supposed to be fun. It's about clenching teeth, screwing up eyes and gripping the wooden table in the pub with your fingernails. It is a recipe for long-term anxiety and ulcers, and no one should be allowed to go through it unless they've had a thorough medical examination.
No one who isn't English, that is. For us, this biannual pain is inherent, expected, like the way you anticipate you'll have at least one really bad head cold once every couple of years.
The game against Sweden, which I watched in the Irish Bank, was a classic example. This time, I'd managed to suck in four American friends -- one of whom brought his parents. They had to witness a typical England performance -- two flashes of brilliance that resulted in England goals, two moments of absolute dribbling incoherence that let Sweden equalize, and a whole lot of heart-in-mouth anguish inbetween.
We qualified for the next round, at the top of our group. So why did I walk back to work in such pain, pain that was barely soothed with the free Ben and Jerry's cones they were giving away for free on California street?
Because supporting England is like having eleven idiot sons. You love them to death, you cannot but love them, and occasionally they surprise you. But mostly they just embarrass you in front of the whole world.
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