21st century names for the Rice Krispie elves? Or powerful new, Twitter-pated, info-sharing services?
The quest to reach the zenith of Too Much Information races upward. Fast Company reports on new ways to compare prices and get screamin’ deals: meet Blippy, Woot, and Bundle.
Ever wondered what your online tribe are spending their money on, right now; or ever wish they could see what you just bought? Tweet your credit card transactions with Blippy, “a fun and easy way to see and discuss the things people are buying”. Blippy satisfies the craving that tribes have to know and tell what’s in the bag, and what it costs. Every.Fricking.Thing.All.The.Time. Like topical creams from Walgreens, for down-where-the-sun-don’t-shine. Or a Big Mac for Friday breakfast… on Good Friday. Oh, this can go so wrong…
Hey, What’d Ya Get? What’d Ya Pay?
Woot is overstock.com with a twist… a fun one. It sells only one item per day, while supplies last. No back-order, no dibsies… it’s there until it ain’t. The very humorous people who wrote the Woot website offer to Tweet you with notices of what’s what. Finally, the Thighmaster model I crave! Buy now!
This great article also mentions a slightly creepy service called Bundle. Sounds like someone’s reading my bank card statements before I am… because now I can find out what people who live in my neighborhood are spending on food, clothing, entertainment, etc. and even Tweet the news to my tribe. While actual names aren’t revealed, I’m thinking that data on the guy who lives at the Boo Radley house around the corner won’t show up under Home Improvement. Idea for use? Realtors who specialize in relocation clients. (“Why yes, radishes do cost more in Eugene!”)
Thus, the emergence of these mightily simple, Twitter-fed apps. A new global business model, where consumers, app developers, point-of-sale data, and real-time data sharing meet.
I see an opportunity for complete transparency on government spending. Oh, it CAN go so wrong.
I don’t have a problem with Blippy and Bundle existing, but I have to wonder about the people who sign up for the services.
Maybe I just crossed that line into “dang kids, get off my lawn” old-manhood.