[LEMONS] 10.31.2001
It's easy to see Webvan's auction block firesale as some sort of symbolic event, a metaphor for the dot-commery of the late 1990s. And as they carted out aisle after aisle of rococo baubles, it reinforces the idea of dot-com California as a community of of genXers blinded by their own hubris and optimism. To the 40 year-old guy who spent the 90s working in a Ford plant in Doraville, the idea of a 24 year-old liberal arts major sitting in a $5000 chair, getting a back rub, while contemplating how to make the site sticker (sticker, ha! remember that? remember when that was a concern?) at $70,000 a year must have been nearly enough to inspire murderous rage. Particularly if said 40 year-old guy finally decided to invest in technology stocks sometime in the late 90s. I'd want to drive out to California and hang the first dot-commer I saw from a radio tower. Preferably by a SCSI cable. And to the residents of the Mission and the Western Addition, who now live in Hunter's Point and the Excelsior and even Modesto, driven out by packs of Banana Republicans on Vespa scooters, this has got to be a glorious moment. "Fuck you and your TiVo, pal."
Me, I hope it's a turning point.
I've worked for two startup dot-coms, so I can't exactly join in the funeral dance. But in both cases, I was a journalist, meaning I was never paid as well as the guy in the other room charged with coming up with slogans to drive people to read the content I wrote. So I understand the sentiment. Fuck him, I did all the work, why's he driving the Lexus (not that I want to drive a Lexus). But it seems like now, now that those left behind have had a solid year, nearly two, of watching former dot-commers sell off their shit on sidewalks all across the city, now that the economy is in the shitter for all of us, and landlords are practically paying you to move in (I had a landlord two weeks ago offer me the first month free), now that everyone is feeling the pinch can't we all just agree to start over? This time without the bauhaus toilets and Gucci chewing gum, this time we won't start home goldfish delivery companies. This time we'll do without the hyperbole. Can't we all just go back to 1999? Remember 1999? Remember when our biggest worry was the Y2K bug (and stickiness)? Remember when Anthrax was just a band that nobody really listened to anymore? Thems was the days.
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