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Month: February 2008


“The name’s Bond…”



No time for a proper post – need to head down to the Mandalay to stop Michael losing everything at the poker tables. So – bullet points, then…

Last night was a blast – Michael arrived in town and we headed over to the Palms for an evening of dinner and fun.

We met a group of girls who were in town promoting shoe insoles. Micheal said his mother was a chiropodist. They didn’t know what that meant.

Blagged our way in to the club at the top of the Palms. The line that clinched it was certainly Michelle’s “My name? Michelle Bond, as in James.” Class.

Met a bachelorette party from – I think – Atlanta. I got to wear a veil. Always the bridesmaid.

We drank a lot of vodka.

This morning’s hangover was very, very painful. Cured only partially by pulled pork sandwiches, burgers and corn bread.


In Vegas, everyone can hear you scream



57 men are in court today in Saudi Arabia, BBC News is reporting, arrested on charges of ‘public flirting’ in shopping centres around Mecca.

Reading that story anywhere would make the blood boil and the brain weep – but there’s something about reading it in the lobby of the Excalibur hotel in Las Vegas that makes it all the more weird. All the oil in Saudi Arabia couldn’t pay for enough flirting/drinking/gambling prisons for the people here; and this is just one hotel. A Mecca of decadence and depravity, where even the check-in desks have gambling terminals built in and drunken woman on bachelorette weekends line every corridor, clutching two foot tall plastic cups of alcoholic slush. Any one of these tiara-wearing, screeching, near-topless harpies would eat a Saudi flirter for breakfast, which is served 24 hours a day in any one of the hotel’s 40 food outlets.

I finally rolled in to town – flew into town – at a little after 1am local time (4am Eastern time – where my head still was) after an entire day snowbound at JFK. Michelle met me at the airport – she’d been here for six hours and they wouldn’t let her check in because everything was in my name.…

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Leaving, Las Vegas



It’s snowing in New York. Hard. I know this because I’m still here – sitting in the Jet Blue departure lounge at Kennedy airport awaiting my 6:30 flight to Las Vegas. My plan to fly this morning lies melting on the ground, like all this fucking snow. The great news is that Jet Blue is brilliant – cheaper than Easyjet, with leather seats and in-flight DirecTV, free wireless in the lounge and really pleasant staff. The moment it started snowing they told everyone that, if they were snowed in and couldn’t get to the airport, they could reschedule on to any other flight for no extra cost. It took all of ten seconds to do. Splendid. Too splendid. We’re clearly going to crash into the Rockies.

I arrive in Vegas at 10pm local time – only ten hours later than planned, but four hours after Michelle lands. Sorry Michelle. I imagine by the time I land, she’ll have pumped the best part of a thousand Dollars into the Dollar slots and the best part of a bottle of Vodka into her liver. She’ll be fine.

For my part, I’m hungover to hell and mainlining Dunkin’ Donuts coffee to stay awake. The party last night was – as they say – awesome and Jon and Laurel were on the finest of forms.…

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And so it begins



The Pod Hotel, New York, NY

Welcome to New York, they say. And welcome to the land of the free. Tick this box if you are a Nazi war criminal or have recently been near a farm, or around livestock. Cell phones must not be used in the immigration hall on pain of being shot. Tired and huddled masses, please make yourself known to the robots.

But the main thing is, I’m here. In New York, New York for the start of what promises to be a Very Exciting Adventure. The last thing I did before going through to departures was to pop the last remaining key to my flat in the post to my (former) landlady – this after checking in the suitcase that contains what little of my life I haven’t sold or given away. My books and DVDs are in storage, my laptop is charged – and God knows what happens next.

Vegas, certainly, at the weekend. Then a drive through the desert to LA in time for the Oscars, then San Francisco for a while before flying to Austin for South by South West and my first assignment of the trip. But beyond that… who can say?…

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Just the facts, ma’am



“The dirtiest book of all is the expurgated book.” – Walt Whitman

So, the libel reading of my book is finally done and my editor at Orion has sent me the lawyer’s report. It’s all very amusing with loads of things that I thought were fine being flagged and lots of things I’d have flagged being fine. But by far my favourite part is the summary at the top where the lawyer has to describe the nature of the material.

It reads, in part:

“In this book the journalist and internet entrepreneur, Paul Carr, gives an insight into his life as he pursues various innovative ventures on the Web. Interesting stories are told, not just about his own ventures, but those of others involved in internet businesses. It is a very enjoyable read, upbeat and witty, and the views he expresses are often explicitly extreme.”

So, in the eyes of the law my views are explicitly extreme. That, I like.
Apologies to anyone who is in the book and is now shitting themselves about whether I’ve been explicitly extreme about them.

Possibly the weirdest flag is my mention of the Daily Express. In the second chapter I talk in passing about the rate with with British newspapers moved online.…

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Jury trial in civil cases… don’t lock me in dark places



Let’s not either of us pretend you care that I haven’t posted for a while. One of the beauties of RSS is that you don’t need to spend too much time trawling un-updated blogs, only to be disappointed. Now you can be disappointed only when there’s something new to be disappointed by.

So, it’s Superbowl Sunday! As I write this, Americans around the world are sitting on their couches surrounded by nachos, beer and friends celebrating the pinnacle of their television calendar – the 42nd Superbowl final between NFC champions the New York Giants and AFC champions, the New England Patriots. Some of them will have painted their faces in the gaudy colours of their team.

Like all of the 6,344,905,379 people in the world who aren’t eligible for a navy blue passport, I really couldn’t give a toss who wins, but I gather the Patriots – the first team to have a perfect undefeated season since the Miami Dolphins in 1972 – are the favourites. Go Pats!

Of course I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, Paul, you don’t know the first thing about any of that stuff. You looked it all up on Wikipedia to make yourself look smart and cool.



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