Where I'm From

I've been getting a little business interest so I thought I'd give a little info about myself personally. I usually don't have much of an interest in beating my own chest but I understand that investors will want to know what I'm made of, so here 'tis:

I'm 41, around 6' and W.A.S.P to the bone. In fact I'm such a W.A.S.P. that some of my family came over on the original coupla boats and were given tracts of land in Virginia by the King. This was back in the days when the land was described to include everything West of the deeded tract. I'm related to a couple of presidents and notables--Zachary Taylor and Martha Washington among them. Some of my cousins had Civil War generals camping on their lawns and stuff like that. One of them invented the first tobbaco brokerage, which became Universal Leaf Tobacco. Other early family members owned sawmills in the Pacific Northwest.

I was the 40th-something person in my family to go to Hamilton College, in upstate New York. At Hamilton I majored in History and minored in Studio Art--basically painting. While there a friend and I orchestrated an art take-over called Dig Day, which included issuing a school-wide manifesto and turning the campus into an art gallery. We got class credit for the whole thing and managed to get all the materials paid for. (Although the school and a good portion of the student body was less than happy with what basically amounted to a bum's rush.) The manifesto was later printed in a literary journal unrelated to the school called Big Fish.

I went to Garfield High School in Seattle--the same one where Jimi Hendrix, Quincy Jones and Bruce Lee went. (And Debbie Armstrong and the guy who designed the World Trade Center.) At Garfield I majored in getting fucked up every weekend and trying to get laid while taking AP and Honors classes. I majored in getting fucked up at Hamilton, too, but they gave me degrees too.

High school was fun, we tp-ed people's houses, jumped off buildings into the lake (a common practice in Seattle called "jumping"), went water-skiing, broke into country clubs and broke motor mounts jumping cars off the steep hills (another practice commonly called "jumping").

After college, I lived in Seattle during the prime grunge years and was integral enough to the scene to enjoy free entry and backstage access at most events and make it into a book about Nirvana. I had the Nirvana fan club database on my computer before it was handed over to a corporation to run (ie: before they got big big). At one point my floor was an inch or two deep with fan letters, solicitations for sex and the dollar bills people would include for return postage. I also knew guys in most of the important bands (those that were good, and not cheesy) and for a little while worked doing promotion at one of the clubs.

[An interesting note: the Seattle scene was basically born over the question of selling out. When the proto-grunge band Green River broke up, half of the members (Jeff Ament and Stoney Gosard) set out to find commercial success (later becoming Pearl Jam) and the other half (Mark Arm and Steve Turner) set off to keep things punk (starting Nirvana precursor Mudhoney). The Seattle scene was literally a discussion over what part money should play in art. Sub Pop turned making money into a joke and ended up striking a chord. Pearl Jam were seen as nice guys, but musically much less important than bands like The Rites of Spring, Fugazi, Come, Beeteater, The Afghan Whigs, and the like. (FWIW, I've always liked Stoney--he grew up a few blocks from my house and I've known him since the 6th grade or so. Jeff I've played basketball with and plays a decent, if unspectacular, game.) Soundgarden was pretty marginal after their early stuff and manufactured bands like Alice In Chains didn't even rate (or relate).]

After a brief stint as a bike messenger (where I was written up by my friends at Dirt Magazine in a blurb called "The Legend of Hamburgerhead"), I started my own graphic design company and did work for, among others, Sub Pop, Nirvana, Atlantic Records, The David Letterman Show, NBC, Henry Rollins, and a host of fashion, snowboard and youth culture related companies and tons of bands. I did photography and design and pitched to clients as well. I had a few international accounts and flew around occasionally for out of state clients. I ran the company out of a warehouse in downtown with a pool table and enough room to skateboard (and a front entrance in a stank alley).

During this time I lived next door to Charles Peterson, the seminal photographer of the Seattle scene and the guy who introduced the world to half-blurred, half sharp photos and distressed film borders as part of photographic prints (but don't quote me on that--I'm no photo expert). I thought I was in a few photos in his books but have been unable to find myself recently. I'm in a few of his photos used for other purposes and Charles was one of my closest friends during this time. We took drugs together, chased and bedded the same women and in general just did the damn thing. Charles took the photo on the front of my book The Love Artist, for which he refused payment.

I lived downstairs from Nils Bernstein, who owned Rebellious Jukebox and went on to be the publicist at Sub Pop. Nils is now publicist at Matador in NYC (having graduated from Seattle). Nils was largely viewed as the Mayor of the scene. He introduced me to loads of interesting folks and cooked me many delicious meals as well. (Thanks Nils.) Nils and I ran around for years as part of a core group that included the wonderful Kathy Mar and a few others--every show, every bar, every party, every BBQ. I have no idea now how I managed it, but it was pretty much 4-5 days a week for years.

Before Nils moved in upstairs Tammy Watson lived there. Tammy is about as close to the queen of the scene as you could imagine. She was slightly more on the more punk side of things, though she still knew just about everyone. In my cosmology, Tammy was #2 for a long time. I went to high school with both Tammy and Nils at Garfield, though I wasn't in their class and didn't see them daily back then.

We all lived in adjacent buildings (a four-plex and a two-plex) owned by a nursing home right off Broadway on Capitol Hill. (Periodically we'd hear people screaming "Mommy" or something similarly creepy for a few hours before they died--the home was right behind us.) It was rumored that the buildings would be torn down any minut, which meant no upgrades when something broke, but it also meant that if you missed a month or two of rent, they probably wouldn't do much (earlier residents had already collected $2500 relocation checks and taken trips to Europe with them).

Being right between the grocery store on 12th Ave where they sold crack pipes and Wite-Out (for huffing) on the counter (and trucker wallets and "Black Love" incense) and the reservoir, the street was nicknamed (by Tammy I think) the "freak freeway" for its colorful traffic. One party before I moved in evidently ended with homeless people joining hands around the four-plex and yelling at the cops to "arrest us--we're the bums!" and to "leave the kids alone". Rent was dirt cheap even though the hot water heaters shot flames when they turned on and some of the floors were falling in.

I knew Bruce Pavitt and Jon Poneman but was closest to Megan Jasper, who is now the #2 at Sub Pop. Megan worked at ADA at the time but she was, and is a dear friend.

I also knew a bunch of rock "stars" but discussing that is weird. And I didn't hang out with any of them very regularly as their business kept them quite transient. I had a band in Seattle with my friend Robin Perringer on drums and Brandon Angle on bass. Robin went on to play with Elliot Smith, Modest Mouse, and Band of Horses. He currently plays guitar with The Fratellis. Brandon was playing with Love As Laughter that last I heard.

A bunch of my friends made millions off of Amazon and Microsoft. Still more are making millions the old fashioned way--by grinding it out starting (numerous) tech companies, developing data-mining techniques, building yoga studio chains, working their way up the corporate ladder and opening restaurants.

I tried to ignore it as much as I could growing up but my parent's friends were running the show in many ways. One was the CEO of Boeing, another became mayor of Seattle (I used to babysit for him--he lived on the alley behind our house). One became the head lawyer at Microsoft, another became the Secretary of State in WA and went on to found a strange and influential rightist think tank. My neighbor across the street was a state senator.

Today, my sister is the environmental head of the Chicago Public Schools' environmental efforts (and has a non=profit start-up under her belt), my other sister gets regular promotions in Nordstrom's corporate office. My step-brother is a photographer with international clients working out of Madrid. Another step-brother works at the Tribune Foundation here in Chicago. (By way of inclusion, another step brother is an actor and life coach in NYC, and my step-sister works for a group here in Chicago that does civic consulting.)

I don't usually name drop or talk about people I know and I only mention all this so you know where I'm coming from. So that you'll consider dropping a couple milli instead of $100K and really getting this party started. My punk rock credentials aren't shit without my mainstream credentials--and visa versa. White Gold is nothing if it can't transcend both the best of the counterculture and the best of the mainstream simultaneously.

A tall order to be sure, but since both of them have such blatant and obvious shit they're scared of, it's easlier than it looks.

Rich folks can't have fun or let loose, punk rockers can't want money. I'm not convinced either of them are really fucking like they'd like to. And no one has time.

New Agers' music sucks (as does their fashion) and environmentalists are too crunchy, non-profit and preachy.

People are sophisticated enough that they want all the best from all these various value sets, but no one has pulled it together yet. Until now. White Gold is pulling it all together.

White Gold has pulled it all together. We're relaxed and luxurious and fuck your brain creative and have immaculate production values and hold spiritual truths higher than earthly facts. We're everything. We're everything you are. We're everything that everyone is. We are both inspirational and aspirational. We're the question and the answer.

My dad was an incredible photographer and lawyer who also worked to desegregate Seattle schools back in the day. He was also a .5 (.25?) handicap golfer and a voracious reader and thinker. (I think I was 13 when he gave me a book on the cosmological constant.) A bad day at the links for dad was a 76. When he wasn't otherwise occupied he was ruminating on the history of consciousness.

My mom is a leading national advocate for public school reform and has founded numerous successful non-profits around the issue. She currently consults with a group called Grow Your Own which is dedicated to developing community talent to teach at urban schools. Interesting fact: she knows Barack Obama and used to fund him when he was an organizer and she ran a foundation here in Chicago. She also co-authored the Chicago Annenberg Challenge, for which Barack later served on the board and as Chairman. She's got deep connections in the foundation world with people at the Bill and Melida Gates Foundation, the Ford Foundation and places like that.

My step-father was a Methodist minister who, among other things, founded the South Shore Bank in Chicago. South Shore was the first community development bank in the US. It is often hailed as a model of success and still operates today with 9 branches in Chicago. He also co-founded (in 1978) The Center for Neighborhood Technology, which is now recognized nationally as a model for promoting and implementing urban sustainability.

A great article about my step-father was written for the Chicago Reader by Billy Wimsatt, author of Bomb The Suburbs and No More Prisons and the founder of national group The League of Pissed off Voters. Billy is a close friend and says that the LOPOV was the result of a conversation he and I had in Chicago one day about The Puny League, a group I started with some friends in Seattle to educate voters and shake up the lame good government group The Muni League, for whom I had volunteered for a few years during election season. (I actually met Billy when Megan Jasper and one or both of my sisters flew him out for my birthday one year. I initially wrote him after reading Bomb the Suburbs.)

Also during the grunge years in Seattle, I volunteered and served on the board of The Service Board, a group that teaches job skills, community service and snowboarding to young people in Seattle. I volunteered there for a number of years.

The turnaround between then and now was the five years I spent from '97-'02 writing and putting out The Love Artist. It was during that time that I got clear on my own beliefs about art and commerce and tossed out the entrenched and arbitrary punk/counterculture viewpoint that money was bad and made peace with the mainstream way of doing business, although I still cringe at the actual lives of those who put themselves through that particular grind.

Sitting down to write the book, I started off writing something my friends probably would have loved--a scathing indictment of just about everything under the sun. Something David Foster Wallace or David Sedaris or Dave Eggers (who I term the Davids) might write--but more. Something cool enough to make me famous enough to get over in a miniscule counterculture way but not really changing anything. Something cool and white and detached and knowing wink, wink.

Instead of writing that book, which I thought might actually kill me (I was significantly depressed to start with and I could tell that tact would dredge up serious bile), I vowed to write anything else. In making that pledge, I ended up writing the only thing I could.

The truth.

The truth was that I didn't care about being punk or cool any more than I did about being hyper and corporate. I didn't give a fuck about any of the options that my culture provided. The truth was that all I could tell was my own story. All I could do was be vulnerable--go first.

What I learned over the course of writing the book was that there was no fucking vulnerability in our culture because there was no safety, support or reward for those making culture. There was no incentive to love, no incentive to find a way that worked. Only incentives to be sarcastic, harsh, angry, bitter, tepid or fake and shock. I wanted a hybrid--the best of everything. I also gave more of a fuck about getting "enlightened" than being cool, looking like I fit into some Eastern guru's ideas or making money. And I gave more of a fuck about being happy and enjoying myself than being "enlightened". I also wasn't prepared to give up great fucking, getting rich, living the good life, cashmere, granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, hardwood floors, nice cars and motorcycles or any of the other good shit I wanted. [Almost all of which I now have--despite not having worked a "real" job in 11 years (though I have done some actual work--even manual labor).]

And I didn't think I should have to.

I also learned that getting enlightened should make me the most money of all--all other things being equal.

As this idea was completely taboo in both my mainstream and counterculture circles and no one but the freaks on the street could feel me, I knew I was on to something. And that I would either succeed or just leave behind some of the most interesting shit ever made and that people could have it when I died.

ALong the way I saw a vision of the world with the entire socio-economic pyramid opened up, an economy that not only grew more rapidly but was also sustainable and responsible. And not just sustainable and responsible but loving and fun. Remember fun? I saw a way for overworked executives and managers to become more valuable and happier at the same time. I saw a way for the Middle East and Africa to become participants in the world economy if they so desired without having to compete with insane Asia.

I didn't start off to save the world, I was just trying to save my own ass. The other shit just followed. I'm going to make plenty from this shit, so don't worry about me. All the extra--all the inspiration is free. Remember, I spilled the secret about floating price points for content and untangibles here for free long before I made a fucking dime. You chose not to listen, but it was sitting here free.

(I also tried to pitch it to some of the top business and creative minds in the world, but that's another story. That'll be fun to tell once it breaks. "Dude, I passed on White Gold--$50,000 for 1/3 of everything." "--Yeah, he pitched me his book on untangibles and I ignored his email. I wonder if it's worth anything on eBay?")

Did I mention that I'm not only not crazy, but that I don't even drink, smoke, do drugs, eat sugar or drink caffeine. (I do eat plenty of meat so don't worry about weird political diets.) Once in a while I'll get a chocolate dip ice cream cone--that's about as crazy as I get. My version of going on a four-week crack bender.

The premise of The Love Artist is that a guy sits down to write a book and finds that everything has already been written. That's the somewhat stated premise anyway.

It's set five minutes in the future.

Though The Love Artist was in many ways a bridge between popular art and counterculture art, when I finished it I realized that it had neither a mainstream nor a counterculture audience. And that it would be a while before it sold millions of copies a year. I also realized that once it broke, they'd have to teach it in college for the forseeable future.

But that and $4.50 would get me a fucking latte. In the mean time I needed to eat and make more shit.

Which wasn't going to happen at $14 a copy.

To say that I learned about mass content pricing from an artist's point of view is an extreme understatement. I was not only broke and severely in debt but also completely cut off from the comforts of being a part of the broke but with-it "in" crowd that serves as a cultural elite in this country. I had nether money nor the "alternative credibility" that confers authenticity. I wasn't a sell-out and I refused to be a maligned but hip victim.

I was unmediated. And thus incomprehensible.

Publishers didn't give a shit about me--even though one of their underlings, a guy who meet with me in NY at the risk of losing his job, told me that this was exactly what his friend all wanted to see. He told me that no publishers would touch it with a ten foot pole.

A white guy telling the truth--are you fucking crazy? South Americans we let tell the truth. Indians we let tell the truth. White folks? You better be new age or something. Be an expert.

So I published it myself--they would never have put me half-naked on the cover anyway--nor my price on the back. A singer we'll put on the cover, but a writer--a white writer--not unless his ass is dead and gone.

After I put it out, I did some readings and spoke with Spike Jonze, a friend from the grunge days, about the possibility of a movie treatment. (I knew Spike from his Dirt days and he was kind enough to return my call. I knew his friends Mark Lewman and Andy Jenkins better--these three went on to be involved in Grand Royal Magazine, Jackass, Girl Skateboards, Bend Press and about half the cool shit in LA). My thinking was that what was coming next would best be realized by someone at the crossroads of the waxing indie and the waning corporate cultures. Not so much.

So there you have it. I do have a few other qualifications that might be worth mentioning. In addition to my design firm, I started and ran a clothing company in Seattle called T HREE and was responsible for the overall look and feel, the catalog, clothing design, sizing, picking fabrics, working with sewers and overseeing production from patterns to labels to finished product. We billed T HREEE as liberation capitalists, it was basically a prototype for White Gold. I have also worked with top clothing and accessory companies on various branding and design issues so know the business.

And this is about it. In a few weeks I'll have my 1946 Harley Davidson sold and enough money to last throughout the winter. And re-do the vocals on the songs I've already gotten written. And I'll be strong enough that I won't have any interest in groveling.

The songs are all that's lacking. And while some uptight cultured motherfuckers might be able to ignore the next great American novel, and some stupid art fucks might be able to ignore some dope paintings, there's no way the kids can resist shaking their fucking asses. When they find it's $14 a song, with no downloads available, they're going to cry "Why?!"

And as the good book says: "Ask and you shall receive."

And they shall ask and I shall receive.

Now may I please have a couple million dollars? It'll make your whole life, guaranteed. Not to mention usher in the entirely new age everyone's been hemming and hawing about for so long it's boring. It will also solve the current market problem, reverse the trade deficit and save us from impending environmental disaster, but don't do it for those reasons, do it for the pussy or something interesting.

Peice.

(Did I mention that I'm whitegoldsoundsystem on eBay—a Silver Power Seller with perfect feedback on over 300 transactions and that I pack carefully and ship everything from guitars to vintage Neve preamps everywhere from Europe to Japan?)

That's as hard as I sell... oh wait..

I forgot, in case you need artist cred--I've also fucked 6' black models and even more attractive Korean lawyers (thought in the spirit of full disclosure, she wasn't a lawyer at the time, just managing people twice her age at a cool non-profit and putting on break dance competitions).

So..

That's all I've got. If you don't like me yet, you'll probably never like me.

So peice out, bitches.

Either make yourself rich or be another one who passed on the future. I don't give a fuck. It's not like this shit can be stopped.

Get in on the Ground Floor

The universe is comprised of three distinct substances--matter, energy and dark energy.

The first is tangible, the second intangible and the third untangible.

The economy knows about the first two--they make literally trillions of dollars.

It knows nothing about the last.

Tangible systems are around 15% efficient (think internal combustion engines), intangible systems probably around 40-50% (think nuclear power plants). Untangible systems are closer to 100% efficient.

Which means that there's tons more money to be made in untangibles than there ever was in either of the other two.

A Google search for the word "tangibles" returns 1,600,000 results.

A Google search for the word "intangibles" returns even more: 4,800,000.

A Google search for the word "untangibles" returns 580 results.

And most of them are mine or people talking about intangibles with the wrong terminology.

I own the domain name untangibles.com. (It was $9.99).

If the history of intangibles is to be believed, the untangible market will comprise hundreds of trillions of dollars within ten years.

The intangible market took off right around the time when intangibles were discovered by scientists. (Around 1900 or so, intangibles form the basis of quantum physics).

Untangibles were discovered by scientists in 1998.

Are you interested in getting in on the ground floor?

I'm looking for a few measly bucks to tip the market. I've been studying untangibles and sharpening my business plan for the last 11 years. Currently I'm halfway done with the book that explains all of this--and more. It needs about a month or two more work.

All the market and historical trends I can find indicate that untangibles are the future. The tenuous market barriers preventing this explosion from happening are hanging like a thread. I'm happy to fund the book myself but I don't feel like selling my Harley and a very small amount of outside money would make things faster. I'll also need trustworthy business partners--if I can find one before the market tips, I'll know he (or she) isn't a gold digger.

How much do you want to invest? How much do you want to make?

$16,000 gets the business book out describing what's going on. And gets you a ticket.

For $60K we put it out ourselves and you're in the VIP lounge, backstage.

For $1.2 million we drop it all at once and you're promoting the show.

For $16 mil. you're on stage and your family is old money for perpetuity.

For $32 mil you're Paul Allen to my Bill Gates and all the money, access and fun you can imagine is headed you way (while cavorting on tropical beaches, shooting movies, starting non-profits and generally spending money like there's no tomorrow)—you're part of the story.

Plus you've made history, saved the planet and have a starring role.

And monster balls.

Try making billions in the intangible economy and still being able to keep it up for more than a couple minutes.

Buffett? Gates? Trump? I don't think so. I think their skill is jacking off in boredrooms.

Getting rich your way will suck the fucking life from your soul. Your kids will think you're pale and distant (which you will be) and your wife will retreat to shopping and charity work. She'll be referred to as the old battle axe by other wealthy socialites. You hate the idea but you'll end up with an overpriced place at Mar A Lago playing golf with stuffed shirts you don't give a fuck about.

Look at your bosses? You're almost them--do you love them? Want that life? Do their families love them? Even give a fuck?

Can anyone in your department make you truly laugh? Like half your friends could when you were 22? Do you have any co-conspirators? Is your wife still on your side?

Only untangible, White Gold money will keep you fresh and soft. Will actually freshen you and soften and relax you--will actually lead you toward enlightenment and not away from it.

Only untangible producers will have the time, money, love and desire to feel while they get rich.

But getting over your fear of going all in is the price of entry. You must be fully committed to really feel it. You get in proportion to what you give. Emotions are untangibles and mastering them is half the battle. Enjoying it is the other.

So do a little research and read Trading Up. Then ask yourself if any of your rich friends have any decent movies to go see, television shows to watch or bands that they feel speak directly to them?

Ask yourself how premium content could possibly fail when it provides not only the inspiration that people are craving but also a new sector of the economy in which they'll long to participate?

Premium content will not only provides an escape but also serve as a post-post graduate course at the best university in the world, bar none, for a whole bunch of very alienated, faithless, confused and hurting rich folks.

And White Gold is the only ones with course material. Not to mention t-shirts, jeans, computers, etc. We'll sell them the movies that go along with it, the reading lists, the restaurants and the coffee shops.

No one knows how survive without dropping out?

And all the suits and all the counterculture kids are trying desperately to figure it out?

Well, here the fuck it is.

The question is do you believe yourself?!

(Trumps beautiful wife once complained that he'd rather be at work than spend time with her. What the fuck good is money if you can't/don't want to fuck?)

If you're interested, please read the next two posts. They detail untangibles from an economic and scientific/historical point of view.

Untangibles

You may not have heard much about untangibles, but you will.

Untangibles are to intangibles as intangibles are to tangibles. Times ten.

Basically, when viewed scientifically, the universe is made up of three distinct components: matter, energy and dark energy.

Matter is tangible--and relates to a corporation's products and material assets--buildings, trucks, computers, desks.

Energy is intangible--and refers to a corporation's know-how, ability to reason, design acumen, and part of what is termed "goodwill".

Dark energy, discovered by science only recently (1998), is entirely untangible. That means they can't find a single mote or flicker of it. Despite it's elusive nature, scientists know conclusively that it's running the entire universe. They estimate dark energy comprises 96% of the universe--with matter and energy making up the remaining 4%.

You can imagine, then, how crucial untangibles are for any business' future.

Before 1900, the economy was almost entirely tangible--and the world GDP grew at an average rate of less than .3% a year.

From 1900 to 2000 the economy was both tangible and intangible. Running on two cylinders instead of one, the world GDP grew exponentially more quickly--averaging a robust 3% per year.

But while the intangible age has provided for many of us materially and intellectually, it hasn't done much emotionally or culturally.

Just like the tangible age failed to deliver reason (high quality intangibles), the intangible age has failed to create meaning, happiness or relaxation--or any other high quality untangibles.

In the market, untangibles are essentially creative content--songs, movies, television, fiction, etc. This sector of the economy is most clearly defined by its low, fixed prices.

All songs are $.99, all movies $10, all DVDs $24--regardless of production cost, demand, or quality.

Your company has all three attributes whether it knows it or not--products, reasons/technology, and stories. The stories are what's most important and where most of the value is, but because they're essentially irrational, they scare the pants off of most managers and executives.

Forests are murky and ambiguous, trees are concrete and clearly defined. Forests are also where the money is, even though many businesses get by for years going fearfully from tree to tree.

The current economy doesn't properly value untangibles just as the economy in 1800 didn't properly value intangibles. And it suffers from just as significant inefficiencies because of this oversight.

This will change as the market corrects pricing structures for untangibles. CEOs, CFOs and COOs will be largely outsourced just like white collar is now. Most of what we think of now as commercial activity will be little more than a back office for enormous content engines.

Untangibles are 96% of the economic landscape. Right now they're largely hidden, just as reason and technology was hidden a hundred years ago, but they will have their day.

Put it this way: after iPhones, designer shoes and blazing internet connections are universal, disposable cheap and omnipresent, the only thing that anyone will care about is content--meaning--and they'll gladly pay a premium for quality just like they pay a premium for organics, good design and selvage jeans--high quality tangibles and intangibles.

Put another way, after all the "what" and "where" (tangible) questions are answered and all the "how" and "when" (intangible) questions are answered, the only game in town will be the beautifully untangible "why".

As this new untangible age blossoms, the world GDP is likely to increase by as much as 10 times--to an incredible 30% a year. The economy will not only be more efficient but will also be more relaxed and have a much smaller negative impact--thanks to new ultra-efficient untangible systems that produce nowhere near the environmental impact of current intangible and tangible systems (both of which are relatively inefficient and produce lots of waste).

The Googles and Microsofts of tomorrow will be making films, writing songs and books, producing high quality television and creating new content. They will play the internet like Jimi.

And they'll mint billionaire artist/producers like MSFT mints millionaire managers/engineers.

And the owners--the pioneers and original shareholders--cold easily be trillionaires.

It sounds fantastic, but it's important to remember that it sounds exactly as fantastic as billionaires did the the most reasonable experts just a hundred years ago. The tangible age created millioniares, the intangible age created billionaires--you do the math.

Oh--and by means of comparisons--as the paradigm-shift cycle time seems to decrease each cycle by a factor of at least ten (tangible age--thousands of years, intangibe age--one hundred), we should expect to see these trillionaires in as little as ten years.

Sound impossible?

Imagine a corporation better at relating than Oprah, better at rocking than the Stones and with better taste than Prada. Now make it global and mass-market like hip=hop.

The best band in the world selling $14 songs.

They don't have to tour to make money, nor do they care about albums, so they release 10-20 singles--hits--a year.

At $14 a song, $140 an album, a corresponding $12 reality tv show (two and a half episodes a week), a licensing deal with Gucci for an affiliated clothing line, an 8 Mile-like movie telling the backstory ($24 a ticket, $14 a rental, $140 for the DVD).

Since they're the first and clearest of vision, they sign the best new talent to their roster like Dr. Dre signed both Eminem and 50. (Who both signed other platinum-sellers, started clothing lines, etc.) They might even have ghostwriters writing books like Jeff Koons has other people doing his paintings.

At that point, Hollywood looks like the backwater it is and have lawyers watching accountants watching computers loading up bank accounts. As no artists really want to run the back office, if you can do it right and preserve quality, you'll be sitting on top of the largest licensing and production deal in the history of the world. Managing the best artists/designers/creatives in the world.

And inspiring others to shine--you make trillions by making the best artists billions. As every artists has a virtual monopoly, there's little of the competition for market share that we see in the tangible/intangible economy.

And a rabid audience of wealthy, brilliant sell-outs and starved, creative counter-culture refuseniks--both desperate to connect creativity and cold hard cash in their own lives. Thankful that it's been done and interested in as many particulars and as much inspiration as possible.

It's aspirational, inspirational, high, low, Wall Street and gutter all at the same time.

It will be untouchable and it is the future.

We have everything else--the only significant demand left is for a meaningful way to live. A way to be happy and feel the luxury that surrounds us.

And the market always gets what it wants.