Michael Arrington had some tough words for Squidoo. Let’s call it what it is. He shreds Squidoo to pieces.
I agree with him. I agree with my mind, the numbers just don’t add up. I also agree with my heart, I was let down. I didn’t want it to fail. But it did.

If Squidoo doesn’t work out as planned, and I don’t think it will, Seth loses more than his time and whatever capital he’s put into Squidoo. He also loses credibility as an expert in product marketing. To borrow the metaphor, Squidoo could become an albatross around Seth’s neck.
Which is why I struggled with this post. Being let down, it’s too tempting to gang up on Squidoo and blame it even for the things it didn’t do wrong.
I got my Squidoo cheque the other day, with just enough money to cover for 30 minutes of metered parking. It was also a reminder I haven’t paid attention to my lense in months. And that I just don’t care.
Financially, flipping burgers at McDonald’s pays better. Traffic to my blog? I’ve seen none. But while I neglected my lense, I made some posts here and comments in other places. I kept some of you entertained, informed others, and helped the rest waste time during the day. I doubt my lense did any of that.
Seth has this great story to tell about X-Ray eyes. If I remember correctly, like a broken clock, they work exactly twice. Once when you buy them and realize you’ve been had. And once when you use them to fool someone else. Either way, it’s a great story to tell.
If anything this post is about a great story. And how stories are not always enough. How weaving a good tale could lead to great disappointment. And how all of that makes up a story, just not the one Seth would love to tell.
And there’s one question nagging in my mind. Will I bother to read Seth’s blog again?
Would you?