I’m thinking about social networks still – as always. How can we build Uncharted up? How can we find the people with the passion for what we do, as the makers of the Revelry social network have discovered for those who knit and crochet? As Facebook expands to 740 million users, as Google+ begins to tear it up among techies, what chances do we have, as microblips on the social networking radar, of becoming a force to be reckoned with?
Maybe Clay Shirky has the answer.
Part of what we want to do at Uncharted is to unite our users to do good, to do humanitarian things as our reach expands. And if we can develop the passionate user base that we hope to develop, we can accomplish great humanitarian things with thousands, not with the tens of thousands or millions that the behemoth social networks possess.
Shirky, in this short presentation, says that he’d like to see “more effort put into helping groups send real signal, rather than continuing to engage in competition in increasingly meaningless political noise.” What he means is that he’d rather see change wrought by a thousand letter-writers than spam coming from 2.5 million people whose most active political engagement comes from sending a form email. This goes back to what Michelle and I have talked about – in this day and age, what you’ve got to do to get attention is not to flood the mailboxes with stuff people won’t read, but show a much smaller, but much more committed group ready for action. Shirky talks about this in the guise of representation and voting, but I’m sure the same easily translates into other forms of social action.
Indy and Harry
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History of Joseph Smith, by His Mother, by Lucy Mack Smith. 354 pages.
History of Pirates, A: Blood and Thunder on the High Seas, by Nigel Cawthorne. 240 pages.
Peanuts by the Decade, the 1970s; by Charles Schulz. 490 pages
Star Bird Calypso's Run, by Robert Schultz. 267 pages.
There's Treasure Everywhere, by Bill Watterson. 173 pages.
Read in 2024
A Rat's Tale, by Tor Seidler. 187 pages.
Blue Lotus, The, by Herge. 62 pages.
Book Thief, The; by Markus Zusack. 571 pages.
Born Standing Up, by Steve Martin. 209 pages.
Captain Bonneville's County, by Edith Haroldsen Lovell. 286 pages.
Case of the Condemned Cat, The; by E. W. Hildick. 138 pages.
Catch You Later, Traitor, by Avi. 296 pages.
Diary of A Wimpy Kid: Big Shot, by Jeff Kinney. 217 pages.
Edward R. Murrow and the Birth of Broadcast Journalism, by Bob Edwards. 174 pages.
Exploring Idaho's Past, by Jennie Rawlins. 166 pages.
Forgotten 500, The; by Gregory A. Freeman. 313 pages.
I Must Say: My Life as A Humble Comedy Legend, by Martin Short and David Kamp; 321 pages.
Joachim a des Ennuis, by J.J. Sempe and Rene Goscinny, 192 pages.
Le petit Nicolas et des Copains, by J.J. Sempe and Rene Goscinny, 192 pages.
Moon Shot: The Inside Story of America's Race to the Moon, by Alan Shepard and Deke Slayton; 383 pages.
Number Go Up, by Zeke Faux. 280 pages.
Peanuts by the Decade: The 1960s, by Charles Schulz. 530 pages.
Red Rackham's Treasure, by Herge. 62 pages.
Secret of the Unicorn, The; by Herge. 62 pages.
Sonderberg Case, The; by Elie Wiesel. 178 pages.
Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk, by David Sedaris. 159 pages.
Stranger, The; by Albert Camus. 155 pages.
Tintin in Tibet, by Herge. 62 pages.
Truckers, by Terry Pratchett. 271 pages.
Vacances du petit Nicolas, Les; by J.J. Sempe and Rene Goscinny, 192 pages.
World According to Mister Rogers, The; by Fred Rogers. 197 pages.
Ze Page Total: 5,859.
The Best Part
Catch You Later, Traitor, by Avi
“Pete,” said Mr. Ordson, “we live in a time of great mistrust. This is not always a bad thing. People should question things. However, in my experience, too much suspicion undermines reason.”
I shook my head, only to remember he couldn’t see me.
“There’s a big difference,” he went on, “between suspicion and paranoia.”
“What’s . . . paranoia?”
“An unreasonable beliefe that you are being persecuted. For example,” Mr. Ordson went on,” I’m willing to guess you’ve even considered me to be the informer. After all, you told me you were going to follow your father. Perhaps I told the FBI.”
Startled, I stared at him. His blank eyes showed nothing. Neither did his expression. It was as if he had his mask on again.
“Have you considered that?” he pushed.
“No,” I said. But his question made me realize how much I’d shared with him. Trusted him. How he’d become my only friend. And he was the only one I hoad told I was going to follow my dad. Maybe he did tell the FBI.
He said, “I hope you get my point.”
Silcence settled around us. Loki looked around, puzzled.
Mr. Ordson must have sensed what I was thinking because he said, “Now, Pete, you don’t really have any qualms about me, do you?”
Yes, perlious times then. Who to trust? And perlious times now, with paranoia running even deeper than during the Red Scare . . .
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