All Things Me

Get out your waders.  I mean aviators.

Yes, Silicon Valley denizens, it's that time of year again.  Or one of them.  When the elite meet, greet, eat, tweet ... and bleat.  Exclusively but oh so democratically.

• Refresher courses in how to appear humble to the masses without sacrificing condescension or that smug expression on your face.

• The update of last year's seminar, "The DaPinchmi Code."  How to drive around Paris in your Tesla, in reverse, with your holy grail in the seat beside you.  Since you've already found it.

• The perennial crowd favorite, "Innovation Without Inoculation," about how to find the next big thing among the untouchables without shaking hands or checking algorithms.

• And let's not forget those super-secret superclass campfires on the beach, where the annual strategies for concocting corporate welfare tax dodges are hatched.  This year's should be especially cozy, what with the presidential election and all.

Bah, bah, black sheep,
Have you any wool?

Yes, merry have I,
Three bags full.

One for my master,
One for my dame.

But none for the little boy who cries in the lane.

Indeed.