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The Monk and the Riddle
In light of the recent meltdown of all thinks internet-related, a book about entrepreneurs making deals with Venture Capitalists might seem a bit quaint. This book might be the exception. By emphasizing what is eternal, while also criticizing several specific attributes of the formerly hot IPO market, Randy Komisar points us towards a prescription for the recovery which will come with the next round of investment.
The capsule bio says that Randy Komisar is currently a "Virtual CEO" which means that he serves as a vizier for the real CEOs of several startups. Nice work if you can get it... all the visionary stuff without any of that nasty nuts and bolts stuff... He started his career in Providence RI, where he helped to run a concert promotion business (sounds like it was pretty loose and crazy -- a good introduction to the unstructured environment of a startup). He got a law degree and practiced law at a "prestigious" law firm before chucking his chance for making partner to go work contracts at Apple Computer in the mid-1980s. He also co-founded Claris Corp when Apple spun it out. He was CFO of GO Corp, as described in Jerry Kaplan's book Startup. He served as CEO at LucasArts Entertainment (games) and another small game company. Among his "Virtual CEO" successes are WebTV and TiVo.
Liner notes:
"What would you be willing to do for the rest of your life?
It's a question most of us consider only hypothetically -- opting instead to "do what we have to do" to earn a living. But in the critically acclaiimed bestseller The Monk and the Riddle, entrepreneurial sage Randy Komisar asks us to answer it for real. The book's timeless advice -- to make work pay not just in cash, but in experience, satisfaction, and joy -- will be embraced by anyone who wants success to come not just from what they do, but from who they are. At once a fictional tale of Komisar's encounters with a would-be entrepreneur and a personal account of how Komisar found meaning not in work's rewards but in work itself, the book illustrates what's wrong with the mainstream thinking that we should sacrifice our lives to make a living. Described by Fortune.com as "part personal essay, part fictional narrative and part meditation on the nature of work and life," The Monk and the Riddle is essential reading on the art of creating a life while making a living."
The Monk and the Riddle might be viewed as self-help for the masses of soulless, gadget-laden marketroids patrolling Sand Hill Road, in search of a Venture Capital-financed conveyor belt to riches. Komisar presents his life's lessons as applied to the peculiar subculture of VCs, angel investors, and startup entrepreneurs. Owing to the author's varied career, he likely does have some wisdom to impart -- and the success he has achieved seems to indicate that he didn't need to write the book for the money.
The new edition includes a new preface which looks back on the e-commerce and internet meltdown. Komisar does not take credit for having "predicted" the collapse, but he seems to feel that the themes and observations of the book did indicate that venality had replaced innovation towards the end of the recent tulip mania.
Monk takes the form of a narrative interspersed with illustrative episodes from the author's (Komisar's) own career. The narrative traces a series of conversations between Komisar and a fictional would-be entrepreneur "pitching" his e-commerce concept in the hope of getting startup capital. In the narrative, Komisar uses the "show, don't tell" device of cinema to reveal some details about the culture of Silicon Valley. Since Komisar is not himself a VC, he can offer a few tidbits to the entrepreneur (and the reader) which a VC might not -- such as the reluctance of a VC to give a straight "no" answer to an entrepreneur looking for funding. He also offers some basic "Startup Business Plans 101" advice, such as the need to seek a sustainable competitive advantage.
Komisar does propose some specific techniques which a business can use to improve its chances for success. In the third chapter, he describes the role he assumes with the title of "Virtual CEO." Many executives and managers could use a trusted advisor or mentor to avoid some of the worst pitfalls, and such an advisory role is the one Komisar likes to assume. The proposed formalization of such an arrangement may be an important business innovation, particularly to the legions of inexperienced executives of startups. In the chapter titled "The Big Idea," the author presents the typical "so what?" question in a somewhat different light -- instead of asking why the market should be excited about the business idea, Komisar asks the entrepreneur to consider why the idea is compelling to the founders of the company itself. He argues that a company composed of people who are passionate only about getting rich are unlikely to succeed.
The central themes of the book are existential and philosophical, not the nuts-and-bolts of business plans and venture financing. Those marketroids who may have missed out on Existentialism 101 may benefit from this book, but more well-rounded and intellectual readers may find the message a bit obvious and belabored. Thankfully, Komisar spares us the typical schtick found in so many business books aimed at managers and executives. He appears to derive general management principles from empirical evidence, rather than serving up the usual conceited advice aimed at those executives who only read books in the airport. Komisar may hit us over the head sometimes, but when the lesson is that we should invest in people and not things, it's hard to fault him. Those who need this lesson likely need it to be stated as plainly as possible.
Overall, I would characerize The Monk and the Riddle as an engaging, if somewhat light, view into the culture of Venture Capitalists and Silicon Valley entrepreneurs. Those familiar with this culture will find episodes and observations to confirm their perceptions, while the accessibility of the narrative will offer a valuable glimpse of the nature of the place to outsiders.
Table of Contents
Preface to the New Edition: Postmortem
Prologue: The Riddle
Chapter 1: The Pitch
Chapter 2: The Rules of the Game
Chapter 3: The Virtual CEO
Chapter 4: The Deferred Life Plan
Chapter 5: The Romance, Not the Finance
Chapter 6: The Big Idea
Chapter 7: The Bottom Line
Chapter 8: The Art of Leadership
Chapter 9: The Gamble
Chapter 10: The Whole Life Plan
Epilogue: The Road
The entire cast of Friends has head lice.
Why can't I just win a large Lotto ;-)
Just sit back and do absolutely Nothing...
Looking for any old 8-bit Heathkit/Zenith software/hardware - http://heathkit.garlanger.com
just do what I do - pimp out da hoes!
So you don't have to read it since it doesn't contain
anything useful.
Kranz Back from Cuban Blast
I just got back from a once-in-a-lifetime trip to old Havana. It's no secret that the Castro regime is desperate for hard currency (especially U.S. dollars). I'd also heard that the Cuban Ministry of Tourism was pulling out all the stops in a last-ditch effort to attract white upper class U.S. males (translation: disposable income) who were seeking nontraditional vacations.
Fellow members of the above target group, stop and think a bit about what you'd like in a no holds barred tropical vacation:
1) Smooth, aged in wood, dark rums for around $2 a bottle?
2) Absolutely stunning senoritas who do anything you want for $100 a night, or if you're on a budget, a first-class blow job for $20, no extra charge for a facial cumshot?
3) Primo Columbia flake cocaine at $500 per oz? This is absolutely fresh unstepped-on high quality nose candy -minimum 95% purity. WARNING: Do not, under any circumstances, try to leave Cuba with even a trace of this shit on you.
4) A wild deep sea fishing expedition where you fish with hand grenades and belt fed
machine guns?
All this and more is available on what the Ministry of Tourism has dubbed their "Silver
Bullet Package." The package consists basically of prepaid hotel accommodation and prepaid meals. The hotel was clean, comfortable, but a little run down. Even the best hotels in old Havana seem a little seedy by American standards, but the staff go out of their way to make sure that the package members are pampered. The meals were a very pleasant surprise-unlimited quantities of fresh seafood, fruits, and fresh bread - but be warned that lunch and dinner are strictly BYOB. The hotel provides setups and mixers of course. This could have been a problem except that black marketers hawking good rum are numerous in the neighborhoods around the hotels. A small tip to a bell hop will put you face to face with a fellow selling hootch out of a suitcase. The bottles are unlabeled, but the dark rums I tasted put Myers Dark, Mount Gay, and Bacardi Dark to shame for about $2 a bottle!
As you might guess the day to day routine involves lots of eating, drinking, snorting,
dozing, and loitering. Taxi rides to the foreign beaches are fairly easy to find but I found the beaches strangely boring - most of the USDA Grade A pussy centers around the hotels and doesn't really get strutting 'till early evening. The ritual is as follows: Interested gents should sit out on their balconies an hour or so before sunset and look for young girls sauntering down the boulevard. The "working girls" are hoping to make eye contact. If you see a senorita you particularly like, wait 'till you catch her eye and give the universal "come on up" hand signal. The more seasoned pros will find your hotel room from your balcony's location. Sometimes it pays to run down to the lobby to meet her but it's usually not necessary. My favorite was a young slender brunette who called herself Maria. She claimed to be 14 (but was more likely 16 or 17), was light-skinned and a dead ringer for Paula Abdul. I nearly ejaculated when I heard her prices - $100 U.S. for the night, any sex I wanted, or if I was in a hurry $20 for a blowjob. I've never been comfortable with long term relationships, so I was leaning towards the latter option. I asked her if she was an expert at oral sex. She must have read my mind -she swore she gave the best blowjob in all Havana, then smiled, and put her arms around my neck and added: "If I like your cock you can cum all over my face." God, that settled it. I slipped her a $20 bill and she put a pillow on the floor to kneel on. This wasn't one of those midtown Manhattan "hurry up and come so I can cook up another shot" blowjobs, no siree. This was more like "Honey, I really really love my new mink coat. " Full eye contact, lots of licking and teasing. She must have liked my cock, because when I was ready to shoot she
lifted her head back, positioned the head of my cock just over her chin and jerked me off - my favorite way to cum. She got up smiling and asked "You like?". When I caught my breath, I sighed "Bueno, muy bueno".
When she had tidied up and left, I laid out 4 fat lines, snorted up, and called room service for more diet coke, ice, and limes. I fell asleep sucking up rum & cokes, reading "Boy Clinton" by R. Emmet Tyrell, and day dreaming about Maria. What a country, this Cuba!
About the cocaine: Shortly after they check in each package member will be invited by the hotel manager to stop by his office for a drink. There he'll introduce you to a bureaucrat in the Cuban government who will offer you top quality cocaine at a fantastic price (see earlier reference). Don't panic. The Cuban government is getting this shit straight from one of the Colombian cartels and using it to generate cash - one potential group of customers being foreign tourists. If you decide to buy, you'll sign a form declaring that you will not sell, trade, or give any of it to a Cuban national and that you will not attempt to leave the country with any in your possession. Unless you like having cattle prods shoved up your shit chute in a vomit splattered cell in the basement of a Cuban jail, I'd strenuously adhere to these two provisions. Rememberthis isn't America where you can whine for a lawyer and be out on bail in a few hours. DON'T
FUCK WITH THE CUBAN POLICE OR MILITARY.
Next morning it was up and at'em early for the craziest deep sea fishing trip I'd ever been on. After a nice breakfast of dramamine, diet coke, cocaine and bananas I trundled on down to the hotel entrance where a taxi was waiting to take me and two other guys to the marina. Imagine our surprise when we pull into what looked like some sort of Cuban Coast Guard Station. We'd booked the trip at the hotel and had assumed we'd be going out on a typical deep sea fishing boat. It turned out the boat we'd be on was a small cutter complete with twin light artillery guns toward the bow and 3 belt fed machine guns, 2 on either side of the bridge, and one mounted at
the stern. Also, my guess was correct, we were in fact at the Cuban equivalent of a Coast Guard station and the boat would be manned by its usual military crew. I was beginning to lose interest in the outing when the two other tourists and I were introduced to the three "mates" for the trip - perfectly tanned foxes sensibly dressed in deck shoes and thong bikinis. My curiosity aroused, we boarded ship and were soon underway. I settled into a comfortable snooze in one of the three captain's chairs at the stern until we were well offshore.
I was woken up by the unmistakable feel of a large warm breast pressed into my cheek and nose. I opened my eyes to a bird's eye view of a fine pair of hooters. Readjusting my focus, I realized I was being offered a drink by one of our mates. She said we'd fish soon and trotted off to fetch more drinks. It was then that I noticed the complete absence of deep sea fishing rods, outriggers, etc.. The boat droned on for a while longer, then my mate came back with a fresh drink and a fish net. Two sailors carried a wood crate over to where we sat and put it on the deck. From the bridge I heard some shouting and saw the captain pointing to the sea near us. My mate told me we'd found a school of dolphin (the fish, not the mammal). She slid open the top of the wood crate and handed me a pineapple grenade. Sensing my confusion, she smiled and said, "You fish, I net."
What the fuck, I pulled the pin and tossed it overboard. A few seconds later, a low thud, a spray of water, and a bunch of floating dolphin! My mate started scooping them up and throwing them into the ice chest. The two other tourists and mates had been doing same, and it appeared that our 3 grenades had decimated the school, so we motored along in search of more. We spent a pleasant morning fishing in this manner. Around noon, a sailor lugged out a few metal boxes of belted ammo and loaded the stern machine gun. He turned to me when done, smiled and said, "Now, big game". I couldn't imagine what the hell we'd be shooting at,unless it was shark. My mate brought another ice cold drink, cozied up to me and clued me in: "We're shooting what you call illegal aliens; they're scum on rafts and homemade boats that are
deserting Fidel's paradise." Hmm- I'd have to play this one by ear. We had shifted course a little while ago and in about an hour came within sight of a group on a raft trying to make it to the Florida Keys. The captain came down from the bridge, introduced himself, and took up position at the stern machine gun. As we drew along side, and just passed the raft, I saw his thumbs press the spade trigger. There was a deafening roar. Everyone on the raft was wasted. He turned to me, smiling apologetically, saying, "It may seem cruel, but these people, if they make it to your country, are just going to wind up on welfare or in jail. We're doing both of our governments a favor." He paused a few seconds as if for emphasis and added, "Here, it's your turn next."
I thought about what he said, what an overcrowded cesspool the U.S. was becoming, and I realized he was right. The last thing our country needed was more penniless, illiterate niggers. I hopped up in the captain's chair behind the stern gun. By God, here was my chance to do something positive about the situation when all of our fucking politicians were busy transforming the whole goddamn country into Newark, N.J. My mate whispered in my ear, "If each guest gets one boat, the three mates give everyone on board a blow job." That's all I needed to hear. I'd done 4 fat lines in the head below deck just a while ago and I was primed. After about 30 minutes of search time we spied another raft. The captain pulled along side about 50 yds. away and then turned to give me a full field of fire. I lined up my sights on the middle bunch of wretches on deck then pressed the spade thumb trigger. Some of them were
blown overboard, some cut in two by the burst. I lingered on the trigger just a tad longer than professional, but God it felt good. A cheer went up from our crew, and I moved out from behind the gun for the next tourist's turn. We scored our next two refugee crafts in about 1 1/2 hours, and I and the other two tourists were treated to first class blow jobs below deck. Afterwards we retired to the stern to sip drinks and watch the mates service the crew. It was a beautiful finish to a beautiful day - the late afternoon sun, the rum and cokes, and all the cock sucking. The only thing in life that comes close to watching your cock slide in and out of a beautiful girl's mouth, is watching someone else's cock do the same. On the taxi ride back to the hotel, I thought that with all the vomit inspired tourist spots in the U.S, like Disney world, our sterile National Park system (No Hunting, No Fishing, No Camping, this is your National Park, enjoy it!), the usual obsolete and meaningless monuments (Statue of Liberty), why the fuck hasn't someone come up with a Silver Bullet Package for the
good old U.S.A? Why the fuck do healthy normal males with normal interests have to travel to Cuba for something like this?
Oh well troopers, if you've found a hot foreign vacation spot let good buddy George Kranz know.
Later.
George Kranz
I like the Negro shit one.
Where do I sign up?
You are slow like a worm. He He
awk awk
awk awk awkawk
Godspeed your journey to the chemo treatmeants after you develop a tumor from the wrong X settings. YOU FAG0T.
VC's probably overstate their talents but at least they're willing to risk other people's money in ways that banks can't or won't (and if anyone who started up a business on a credit card can attest it is nerve-wracking).
Now if people could only come up with some clever Open Source Funding models.
LL
www.sundaytimes.co.uk:
FOUR out of every 10 British Muslims believe Osama Bin Laden is justified in mounting his war against the United States. And more than one in 10 say the attacks on the World Trade Center were justified, write John Elliott and Maurice Chittenden.
A Sunday Times survey, the first large-scale poll of the Muslim community since the start of the bombing campaign against Afghanistan, shows 40% believe Bin Laden has cause to wage war against America and a similar proportion say Britons who choose to go to fight alongside the Taliban are right to do so.
Muslim leaders, some of whom said the survey did not reflect mainstream opinion among Britain's 2m Muslims, said they believed the results reflect increasing anger about America's role in the Middle East and central Asia.
British Muslims - 1,170 were interviewed outside mosques across Britain - are less convinced about Bin Laden's tactics: only 11% believe there was some justification for the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.
The Muslims polled were overwhelmingly against the continued American bombing of Afghanistan: eight in 10 believe the action will lead to worsening race relations in Britain. Asked if it was more important for them to be Muslim or British, 68% chose their faith.
I tried out for the cast of Friends but they didn't want gay characters. :( That sort of ruled me out and left me to gay stuff like Star Trek TNG.
WIL WHEATON DOT NET
I can't believe they actually took down everyone's favorite site. Oh well, it had to happen eventually.
The Slashdot Effect: A new for
Moves worm fast, but they move along the ground. Keep an eye on your cherries.
After examining both this and my prior experiences with alcohol, I've concluded that consumption of the substance isn't as much of a rush as it was a few years ago. I still dislike the taste of beer, alcohol is hard for minors to get a hold of, not to mention expensive, as mentioned above, and I'd rather be responsible at parties than not be able to remember what happened the night before. Above all, for me, it's illegal. Until I'm 21, if I choose to drink, I have to be prepared to face the consequences and resulting aftermath of my actions.
A most EXCELLENT troll, but why post as AC? Surely you deserve credit for this post.
It's really surprising how long some people can persuade moderators that their wildly misleading incorrect post on quantum mechanics is in fact worthy of Einstein and should be moderated up to +3 while ignoring a correct explanation of the real physics