As you can see, Vlad has written this very tongue-in-cheek sentence using almost entirely what he and I would both consider incredibly trite vocabulary, yet these words seem to comprise the majority of expressions in business writing today.[†] At this point, you might be thinking, “What’s so bad about this stuff?” My response would be that this lingo is rotten precisely because it’s aimed at creating needlessly complicated, oblique ways to express simple, easily understood concepts. Bland expressions can cause eyes to glaze over and minds to wander, thus defeating the primary purpose of language: communication.

Unfortunately, this sort of diction isn’t confined to internal discussions about “marketing initiatives” or the like, wherein only one’s coworkers are made to suffer; it has crept into the “public-facing” (another cringe-worthy term) areas of our businesses as well. Entrepreneur Jason Fried explains the problem: “Years of language dilution by lawyers, marketers, executives, and HR departments have turned the powerful, descriptive sentence into an empty vessel optimized for buzzwords, jargon, and vapid expressions.” Alas, it remains far easier to pull out a stock expression thoughtlessly than to consider an idea carefully before expressing it.

Due to my own fastidious nature as a writer, I’m acutely—maybe painfully—aware of how this sort of terminology has been insinuating itself into my own vocabulary. I’ve attempted to stem the tide a bit by taking great pains to bring variety to my writing, even at the cost of sounding like a pretentious, ivory tower academic.[‡] Nevertheless, when one’s work environment is suffused with this dreadful commercial cant, it’s nigh impossible to avoid the temptation to describe what I’m doing right now as “content creation” instead of “writing.”

At first glance, it may seem that there’s no escaping the insipid nonsense that is modern business writing, but don’t despair! For those of us who are aware of the problem at hand, there is a ready solution available in the form of a website that translates esoteric or stale terminology into more comprehensible language. One of my favorite examples from this site is the definition for the term “content,” a word that I use without irony on a daily basis: content is “undifferentiated sludge created to spackle over business problems. Often comes in buckets. Also, articles, videos, or images.” Brilliant stuff.

The above website (the title of which, while apropos, I’ve omitted from this piece for the sake of decorum) should be an excellent resource for anyone revamping his or her company’s marketing copy. The site is wonderful for the same reason that all high-quality satire is wonderful: it holds up a mirror to our society and forces us to come to terms with the blemishes we might otherwise ignore. The best kind of satire is funny without sacrificing its message, because the ultimate goal is to effect a change.

It’s possible that the creators of this dictionary of bad business vocabulary were inspired by American journalist and author Ambrose Bierce. This Civil War veteran was a lifelong cynic, endowed with such a caustic wit that he was dubbed “Bitter Bierce” by contemporaries. One of Bierce’s most famous contributions to the corpus of American literature is The Devil’s Dictionary, a collection of sarcastic definitions for commonly used words (well, they were commonly used words in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries). As “economy” currently seems to be the most overused word in modern American political discourse, I’ll share Bierce’s lexicographical entry on that term:

ECONOMY, n. Purchasing the barrel of whiskey that you do not need for the price of the cow that you cannot afford.

I should be clear in writing this piece that I am just as guilty of using bad business language as anyone else. Likewise, any ridicule implied herein is directed as much at me as at anyone else in this world of “pain points” and “social media gurus.” I’ve long been a proponent of self-effacing humor, especially if it leads to positive developments. From this point forth, I’m going to take upon myself the challenge of writing vibrant prose without sacrificing effectiveness—I invite you to join me in what I hope will not amount to yet another exercise in futility.

Of course, this cosmetic change is merely palliative: it doesn’t address the root cause, which is the stability of the code underlying the system. Researchers at NICTA, Australia’s national IT research center, have been making some headway into developing “crash-proof” code, which just might obviate the need for a BSoD in future versions of Windows. I’m sure the success of those efforts would be more beneficial than any attempts to mollify frustrated users with one of these →

If Microsoft’s goal is to distract people from their anger, I have a few suggestions that might be useful. Since it seems that even ATMs aren’t immune to these difficulties, what about an error screen lifted directly from Bret Easton Ellis’s masterpiece of 1980s greed and excess, American Psycho? I’m referring to the occasion when a cash machine offers a simple, direct command to the novel’s protagonist, Patrick Bateman: “FEED ME A STRAY CAT.” If you like the simplicity of the American Psycho error screen but are put off by the insanity and implied feline cruelty, consider instead the elegant Venture Bros. solution: the “PROBLEM” light.

Maybe after they’ve sorted out this BSoD business, Microsoft can tackle the bane of all Xbox 360 players: the “Red Ring of Death.” I know a few console gamers in this office who’d be pleased as punch with that sort of improvement.

In the 21st century, it really is inexcusable for so many innocent people to suffer because of a lack of basic necessities, especially when we enjoy such a superabundance of food and clean water in this country. The Washington Post  has compiled a list of relief organizations in need of donations and other assistance; please click the link below to find out how you can help save lives in the affected countries.

Famine in Somalia: How to Help

First, some background. A couple of months ago, I read an article discussing how a social gaming company had recently raised a whopping $85 million of venture capital, which was to be spent primarily on expanding the company’s presence in Asia. The company in question, Kabam, was originally founded as “Watercooler” in 2006 and launched its first foray into social gaming in 2009 with the “acclaimed” Kingdoms of Camelot. At this point, you might be wondering what distinguishes Kabam from a company like Zynga, for example.

As you are likely aware, Zynga is the company that inflicted FarmVille upon the world, much to the delight of bored stay-at-home parents and indolent administrative assistants everywhere. It offers players the opportunity to perform such thrilling virtual activities as planting crops, buying sheep, planting more crops, buying chickens, purchasing lawn gnomes (to enhance the aesthetic appeal of one’s estate), and harassing Facebook friends with “gifts.” Oh, and of course, you can buy “farm coins” (the in-game currency) with real money, the sort of stuff that one might use to pay rent or purchase groceries.

Shockingly, there are few true “gamers” who play FarmVille regularly. As Mashable’s Ben Parr mentions in his article on Kabam, these hardcore gamers prefer instead to spend their time playing games like Call of Duty, BioShock, and Halo—titles that offer far more explosions and carnage than the typical, cutesy FarmVille homestead. This is where Kabam comes in: why not offer these enthusiasts a Facebook game more in line with their gaming preferences?

Clearly there are people in this world who believe that Kabam’s approach to social gaming has a great deal of promise. I don’t disagree that these games (Kingdoms of Camelot, Glory of Rome, Global Warfare, and Dragons of Atlantis—various re-skinned versions of what is essentially the same game) will be profitable for the company and will draw a large number of players; nevertheless, I want no further part in such time-wasters. I’ve had my taste of the soul-crushingly addictive yet ultimately unsatisfying Glory of Rome, and I have learned my lesson. I think I’d be better off cultivating a serious crystal meth habit.

I can’t say I wasn’t warned about what lay in store for me with Glory of Rome. My esteemed coworker, Bryan Scott, had played games like this in the past (e.g. Travian, an online multiplayer strategy game). Despite his wife’s vociferous objections (she remembered all the interruptions to the normal conduct of their day-to-day lives: “Can I borrow your phone? I need to check my Travian.”), Bryan agreed to aid me in my quest to play and then review Glory of Rome.[‡] Before agreeing, however, he offered this tersely phrased warning, which encapsulates all that I could possibly say about Glory of Rome: “Games like this come with all the addictive aspects of video games yet few, if any, of the enjoyable aspects.” In other words, these games are not actually fun.

Now, the gameplay. The apparent aim of Glory of Rome is to accrue as many points as possible (called “glory” in the game) by leveling up your character, building a greater quantity of buildings, founding new settlements, training more units (legionaries, centurions, ballistae, etc.), and upgrading the existing edifices in your virtual coloniae. As your glory goes up, so increases your character’s level and therefore your visibility to other players, both hostile and friendly. In order to construct buildings and train units, you need to harvest resources (food, lumber, stone, and iron) and collect silver by taxing your populace.

As this is a massively multiplayer online (MMO) game, you may join alliances with other players (more on that later), and you can wage “war” against other people. Unfortunately, there are some serious drawbacks to making sorties against your foes. The most you can expect from a raid is to defeat your opponent and pillage whatever resources he or she has left unprotected by a storehouse (the building which protects resources from being plundered). In many cases, you will not even get to kill your enemy’s troops during an attack, because the game allows players to hide their forces in the sanctuary of each colony’s temple, keeping them safe from all incursions. Here’s the best part: every unit you lose in a raid—successful or unsuccessful—actually decreases your overall glory. Clearly, the upshot of this is that it’s most effective to sit comfortably behind your walls, building units yet never sending them onto the field of battle.

Bryan and I noted the above defects in the game design rather early on in the process, but we were already thoroughly ensnared.[§] Compared to some of the other aspects of the game, the problem with accumulation of glory was a minor issue. In order to found a second city, you have to add at least five “cohorts,” who are Facebook friends of yours also playing Glory of Rome. If you wish to gain cohorts, you have to pester your friends with annoying electronic invitations, possibly accompanied by some real-life groveling.

I should also mention that many of the higher level buildings, units, and tech tree upgrades in the game take an excruciatingly long time to complete (we’re talking days and days here), and the only way to speed up or improve the process is by using special items (e.g. the “Patrician’s Sundial” or “Pluto’s Blessing”). “Where does one obtain these items,” you ask? Well, you can get one of them randomly each day via what they call “Fortuna’s Gamble,” but this doesn’t provide the really excellent items. To get the good stuff, you need to use the other in-game currency: gold. As far as I can tell, the only ways to get gold are to sign up for some sponsored commercial offer or to buy it with Facebook credits or actual currency. Either way, you’re going to end up paying real money to construct a virtual building in an imaginary Roman colony that exists only on Kabam’s servers.

These Kabam games make money using the same microtransaction model that seems to work so well for games like Lord of the Rings Online (LOTRO). Players purchase an intermediary currency (e.g. Turbine Points in LOTRO or gold in Glory of Rome) and use that to buy in-game items or power-ups. Intermediaries are acquired in quantities small enough for the cost to be negligible in the eyes of the average player, but I’m sure we’re all aware that $10 or $20 here and there can very quickly add up.

So here we are, playing a game the primary aims of which seem to be either to encourage incredibly selective attacks against your foes (“Destroy no buildings! Don’t search the temple!”) or to force you to hassle your friends until they join in your folly—more players means more suckers to shell out their meager allowances for gold and power-up packages (called “chests” in the game). This brings me to another interesting point: I used the word “allowance” deliberately, because most of the players of this game are either actual children, or they merely possess the temperament and linguistic abilities of a bunch of dimwitted 7^th graders.

Bryan and I found ourselves surrounded by these individuals after we joined a rather powerful alliance known as “Imperialis Roma 2” (much to our disappointment, “R0cK$taRz” was already at capacity). What an excellent decision that was! The alliance chat window provided a constant stream of such edifying messages as these: “wtf lol the sons of mars r attack my coloneez! LOL” and “we mak there guys join uz or we farm them!” The majority of messages from the chancellor and vice chancellors of our alliance consisted of importunate appeals written entirely in capital letters, as if somehow the world would implode if we didn’t drop everything and comply.

At one point, our fearless leaders believed they had been robbed of a prize (free gold, to be specific), which had been offered by Kabam to the alliance boasting the highest collective glory on a specific date. In a petulant fit of apoplexy to rival the best work of any toddler, our noble chancellor et al. demanded (in all caps, of course) that the loyal members of our alliance join them in a new alliance, arrayed in protest against the tyrannical policies of Kabam. Yep.

Despite all the ridiculousness described above, I could not tear myself away from my little Roman coloniae. I kept telling myself that I just had to upgrade my forum and barracks, that I needed just 3,000 more legionaries. The building of cities and armies became the end in and of itself, and I cared not what other players were doing. I knew I had a problem when I was on vacation in Paris, and I found myself sneaking a few minutes of Glory of Rome while my girlfriend was in the shower. A week or so after my return from France, I finally managed to pull the plug. No more RomeVille—yes, RomeVille! This game ended up being nothing more than FarmVille in Caesar’s clothing, a treacherous monster bent on entrapping unsuspecting nerdy Korean kids and 29-year-old American classicists/web tech bloggers.

So there you have it, my review of RomeVille. I write this not as a bitterly disappointed serious gamer, but rather as a gaming dilettante who wishes he had more time for such activities. Don’t get me wrong; video games are great. I spent many a blissful hour playing classic console titles like Super Mario Bros. 3, Sonic the Hedgehog, and Mega Man II. I’ve even enjoyed playing modern games like the aforementioned Halo series or the zombie shooter, Left for Dead. My final recommendation would be that you spend your precious time on worthwhile leisure activities like the above console games or LOTRO. FarmVille, RomeVille, CamelotVille, DragonVille—all of them will ultimately leave you feeling like the Tasmanian Devil at a salad bar: empty, unfulfilled, and yearning for MOAR.

[†] At this point in the narrative, I had originally intended to make a reference to the opening of “Pandora’s Jar” (yes, it’s a jar, not a box); however, I thought better of it during the editorial process. Being of such a persnickety nature wherein etymology and diction are concerned, there was no way I could use the more common albeit erroneous “Pandora’s Box” in lieu of the correct expression. All the same, I thought I should avoid a lengthy explanation of the manner in which Erasmus of Rotterdam, the venerable Dutch Renaissance humanist, confused the Greek words πίθος (jar) and πύξος/πυξίς (box) when translating the poet Hesiod’s Theogony and Works and Days, thereby giving rise to the expression we know today. Instead of ruining the flow of my writing with such an excursus, I elected instead to indulge in this David Foster Wallace-esque footnote. Big Gulps, huh? Alright . . . Well, see ya later!

[‡] I am a classicist by training and a former high school Latin teacher, hence my fascination with all things Greco-Roman.

[§] I’m sure the folks at Kabam actually designed the game this way on purpose so that no one’s settlement could be sacked or taken over completely. If that were possible, people would surely stop playing the game, which might have an adverse effect on revenue. I don’t know; I’m not a scientist.

I’m exceedingly glad to report that no such task befell us this year. Most Hodgson volunteers (including yours truly) spent the morning whitewashing the inside of a dilapidated barn on the premises. Thankfully, I arrived late enough in the morning to miss the part where everyone manually moved all the tools and heavy equipment—as well as associated cobwebs and sloughed-off snake skins—out of the barn. I walked through the door just in time to receive a paint brush and these detailed instructions: “Paint the brown parts; don’t paint the parts that are already white.”

As we got to work, I decided to launch a salvo of “Tom Sawyer whitewashing Aunt Polly’s fence” jokes. Sadly, my initial attempt at humor fell on deaf ears; I imagine that most of my colleagues are either too European (I’m looking at you, Vlad and Yasha) or too unconcerned with literature to appreciate a reference to that classic of American fiction. Maybe they thought I was talking about the Rush song inspired by Mark Twain’s hero—who knows? At any rate, it didn’t take long for the others to join in the jocularity. As is often the case, the humor descended at times into ribaldry and innuendo, but the colorful banter certainly helped pass the time until the work was finished.

Our collective painting efforts seemed to pay off: the barn looked a great deal whiter than when we had started, which I guess was the point. Even more importantly, the whitewashing chore occupied the vast majority of the time allocated for manual labor, although I did have to spend a few minutes hauling logs in a wheelbarrow and stacking them. This would not have been altogether unpleasant, but for that fact that the logs had originated near some maniac using a chainsaw to attack a dead tree with such zeal that I thought he was Leatherface, sans mask. I’m grateful I didn’t have to risk limb truncation by hanging around that guy for too long.

After the work was done, we gorged ourselves on some delicious barbecued chicken, along with the requisite side dishes and dessert fare. The highlight of the day for most of us was seeing our fearless leader, Matt Hodgson, don a replica of an iron collar once used to deter enslaved people from fleeing to freedom. Tony Cohen, Director of the Menare Foundation, had also used this demonstration last year to provide us with a vivid image of the sort of horrible things perpetrated while slavery still existed in the US.

I’d say we all learned something from the experience, and I certainly hope we’ll be able to come back next year to lend the sweat of our brows to the maintenance efforts at Button Farm. When we do return, I’m going to offer my idea for the Fourth Annual Volunteering for Business Day: we should build, operate, and sample the produce of an old-fashioned moonshine still. Seems like a great idea to me, but I doubt the Department of Liquor Control would appreciate it.

If you’re interested in learning more about how everything went down, there are plenty of photos available on Hodgson’s Facebook page. Do check them out, and leave a couple choice comments while you’re at it. Jokes about Hodgson employees are not only tolerated, but encouraged.

Rather than weary you with the details of the intensive training regimen common to many of the more energetic runners (booooooring!), I’ll share with you the tale of my own involvement in the race. Our story begins with Hodgson developer Jake Portnoy goading me into signing up, probably by questioning my masculinity and/or my ability to wake up at 8 AM on a Saturday after a typical night of revelry. Needless to say, his appeals to my competitive nature were quite effective in shaming me into participation. Despite the fact that I had scarcely run a block in the past several years, I resolved to join some of my coworkers in their rigorous post-work training sessions. At last, I had found the catalyst I needed to get myself into fighting shape!

As it turns out, my resolve to run was not nearly strong enough to resist the allure of . . . well, not running. I skipped most of the training, proffering a valid excuse each time: “I have to finish writing this proposal,” “I need to go grocery shopping after work,” “Gotta do laundry,” etc. When the week of the race arrived, I realized I hadn’t trained a lick for the 3.1 miles I was supposed to run on Saturday. Panic set in. In a last ditch effort to prepare myself for the arduous task before me, I joined the others on Wednesday as they headed to Chevy Chase for a trial run on the course.

Although this little practice session left me praying for the sweet release of death, I was pleased that I managed to run the entire way without stopping. My sense of satisfaction soon turned into intense muscular pain; I was moving with the gracefulness of an arthritic octogenarian. Not great if you’re planning on running again in a day or two, but whatever.

Saturday morning was colder than I would have liked (temperatures in the lower 40s), and the ground was sodden from recent torrential downpours. I knew my lower legs were bound to end up caked in muck by the end of the run; all the same, I donned my Hodgson colors and joined my coworkers in their casual pre-race banter. As we started out of the gate, I decided I would try to pace myself off developer Bryan Scott—if I could hang with a guy who’d been in the Marines for several years, I’d probably feel pretty good about myself when all was said and done.

After we had rounded the first few bends in the course and entered the narrow woodland path (which, at this point, was basically a muddy quagmire), a number of questions began popping into my head: Why did I drink milk with breakfast this morning? Why didn’t I walk the one-mile course with Kevin and James? Was that a 12-year-old girl who just passed me? Will anyone notice if I drop dead from exhaustion? As I pondered these questions and attempted to keep my footing on the muddy, crowded trail, I hit the midpoint of the course and turned to follow the rest of the runners back to the finish line.

I’m sure a lot of things happened during the latter half of the race (e.g. Matt Hodgson passed me and offered what I’m going to assume were encouraging words to spur me on), but I was far too fixated on my labored breathing to take much note. When my heart rate had returned to a somewhat normal level, I noticed that I had finished 58^th out of 141 with a time of 27:36, which was satisfying enough for a sluggard like me. I hear there’s another 5K in the fall. I can’t wait.

Oh, of course, I’m sure you’re still wondering how much money was raised, how the others fared, etc. Full results are available on A Wider Circle’s website, and you can check out Hodgson’s Facebook page to see some photos that were taken right after the race. I think we look pretty good for a group of exhausted runners, don’t you? Please don’t be alarmed by my pallor—that’s actually my normal skin tone.

Living Social incentivizes users to tell others about what they’ve found by giving the deal to the original user for free if at least 3 friends purchase the deal as well. Similarly, Groupon doesn’t activate a deal until a minimum number of users purchase it—this drives users to share the deal on social media sites to get the word out to as many friends as possible.

The growing success of this business model has sparked the interest of behemoths like Amazon.com, which recently invested $175 million dollars in Living Social. Businesses have had so much success marketing to new customers that an important question has been raised: can this largely B2C-focused model be fine-tuned for the B2B market?

Fastcompany.com reports that Illinois-based IT Consulting Firm Ajilitee is testing the waters in the realm of B2B deals; they posted a deal on Groupon Stores promising $25,000 worth of IT consulting services for a mere $12,500. Of course, this deal is not something the average coed would tweet to her sorority sisters (unless she were worried their website was being hacked by an evil fraternity down the road . . .), but it might be something the student’s mother would be interested in posting to her LinkedIn wall or mentioning to one of her colleagues. As it turns out, no one actually purchased the deal, but Ajilitee did report they were pleased by the interest from the media (nothing wrong with a little brand exposure, right?).

This Ajilitee deal proves that it’s not only revenue from the deal itself that can make the opportunity to advertise on Groupon or Living Social worthwhile—it’s the exposure, the buzz that builds around the deal that may in turn help attract new customers. GrouponWorks, Groupon’s site for businesses, describes the opportunity as “efficient, measurable marketing” and “big exposure, bigger word of mouth.” The opportunity to generate buzz is valuable to any type of business, whether it be a new bakery, a software start-up, or a large IT consulting firm.

The crux of the issue pertains to demographics: are there enough key stakeholders and decision makers in the million-strong pool of Groupon and Living Social members to make a B2B deal successful? Surely, plenty of executives enjoy trying new restaurants and salons and may already be Groupon or Living Social members. But would an increased interest in B2B-focused deals attract more business-oriented subscribers?

Clearly, this idea is in its infancy, but it’s certainly something that will continue to evolve over the coming months. Who knows? B2B Groupon deals could represent a valuable opportunity for your company. While it’s true that no one bought Ajilitee’s deal, they may very well have paved the way for other companies to attract new clients and to build potentially long-lasting business relationships.

[†] Editor’s Note: LOL married people don’t go on dates!

As a fairly regular Starbucks customer myself (confession: I like Vanilla Lattes), I was quite intrigued when I read of the success of the Starbucks Mobile Card iPhone app. This is an interesting development not only because it represents progress in the realm of transaction efficiency, but also because it’s a perfect example of the employment of the sort of intermediary “currencies” Vlad discusses in his article.

We’re all aware that the cash-for-goods-or-services model represents the most straightforward type of transaction possible in a modern economy (last time I checked, the barter system was no longer en vogue). Although using the Mobile Card is more efficient than using cash to buy a coffee, the money actually follows quite a tortuous path from your checking account to the Starbucks coffers.

Here’s a hypothetical scenario: let’s say I walk into my friendly neighborhood Starbucks on 14^th St. NW in Washington, DC. As I stand in line marveling at the indecisiveness of the customers and the indolence of the employees, I reach into my pocket to produce $3 or $4 to hand over in exchange for my delicious latte. Alas—I’ve forgotten my wallet! As the veins in my temples begin to bulge with incipient rage, I remember that I have my iPhone with me. Huzzah! I open up the Mobile Card app and tap the “touch to pay” button—this is where the magic begins. The app generates a bar code that can be scanned by a special reader at the register. Voilà, I’ve paid for my coffee, and I have an automatic electronic record of the purchase. Simple, right? Let’s follow the money and see:

My Bank Account
↓
Credit Card or PayPal Account
↓
Starbucks Mobile Card Application
↓
Cash Register at Starbucks

All these twists and turns have a palpable effect on consumer psychology, subtly loosening the purse strings of the coffee enthusiast. The application streamlines the process of paying for food and drink at Starbucks (without charging you additional fees), but it also obfuscates the actual amount of money you’re spending by means of all these intermediary steps. As you charge up your Starbucks Mobile Card with funds, you’re transforming an incredibly liquid asset—in this case, cash—into a different kind of “money” that only works at Starbucks. If convenience is everything to you, this probably matters little; however, if you’re trying to budget your finances more carefully, you might consider sticking with cash payments. It’s much easier to tell what you’re parting with if you see Alexander Hamilton’s face on the bill you’re handing to the cashier, instead of casually flashing a computerized bar code.

Naturally, the implementation is buggy and incomplete, but if Wallaby ever becomes a polished product, it will surely offer Flash-based developers a convenient way to release their products on a wider platform. Work on your projects as usual, and when it’s time to publish, click File > Export > Wallaby, and presto: a fully-functioning HTML5 app! It may seem as though Adobe holds the answer to its platform woes; however, with Wallaby, Adobe is encouraging the demise of Flash, like some sort of self-inflicted Trojan marsupial. There’s one significant reason why they’re doing this: Flash Actionscript and Canvas Javascript are really similar, and people are going to learn HTML5 rather than use a converter.

It’s easy enough to see how Wallaby can convert Actionscript to HTML5. To demonstrate, let’s draw a rectangle in Actionscript:

square.graphics.beginFill(0x0000FF);
square.graphics.drawRect(0,0,100,100);
square.graphics.endFill();

Now, let’s draw that same rectangle in the <canvas> Javascript API:

context.fillStyle = '#0000FF';
context.fillRect(0, 0, 100, 100);

Not too different, eh? The similarities don’t stop there. Considering that the canvas was essentially the browser-native answer to Flash’s website eye-candy, I’m guessing it was a major goal to develop something with a similar interface. Both allow you to draw, fill, stroke, and transform the same kinds of shapes. But what’s so bad about building software to translate between two similar graphics scripting languages?

The problem for Adobe lies in the fact that Wallaby doesn’t do a flawless job. Run a Flash application through Wallaby, and you’ll get an 80% complete HTML5 app, which still has to be debugged and polished. This means one of two things: either Flash development studios are going to hire HTML5 developers to complete the application conversion, or the task will be left to the Flash developers to do their own debugging—since the two environments are so similar (as we’ve seen), it’ll be the latter.

By introducing Wallaby, Adobe is encouraging Flash developers to learn development on what has the potential to become their biggest rival platform, and they’re doing it before most companies are even ready to make the transition. On top of that, keep in mind that Flash CS5 costs $700, while developing for HTML5 is free. This means that Flash developers will become Flash / HTML5 developers, and as canvas-ready browsers continue to make their way onto computers everywhere, those developers are going to keep honing their new skills at the expense of their old ones.

Does Flash have a bright future in the face of HTML5’s growing popularity? I don’t think so. With the Chrome 10, Firefox 4, and IE9 releases all arriving in March, the browser wars are no longer about which ones have HTML5 support, but rather which one has the fastest JavaScript engine. The only effects that aren’t supported across the board are the ones that haven’t even made it into the HTML5 / CSS3 specifications. We’ve hit the point where every mobile phone is getting the latest HTML5 implementation, browsers have advanced rendering built-in, IE6 is almost gone, and other browser plugins have already got a firm grip on the high-end graphics niche. Although it still has wide adoption, Flash will only shrink, not grow, as time goes on.

While there’s no point in Adobe pursuing Wallaby any further, I don’t think they should bow out of the “website fanciness” game just yet. There’s something big that <canvas> needs: a solid, well-implemented framework. If you don’t understand what I mean by that, consider the following example where we make a circle move across the screen:

var g = document.getElementById(“myCanvas”).getContext(“2d”);
var x = 0;
var y = 100;

function draw()
{
g.beginPath();
g.fillStyle = "#00f";
g.arc(x, y, 10, 0, Math.PI*2, true);
g.closePath();
g.fill();
x++;
}

setInterval(draw, 10);

Basically, we store the circle’s position by saving x and y coordinates before creating a draw() function that draws the circle and increments its x coordinate. Finally, we use the JavaScript setInterval() function to say that we want the browser to run draw() every little fraction of a second. It’s easy to see how if you were making a game, for example, where you needed to keep track of objects’ positions and listen for collisions between bullets and enemies, you’d need to write a lot of groundwork code. This is where Flash shines. Here’s how you would move a circle named myCircle in a Flash scene:

var myCircle:Shape = new Shape( );
myCircle.graphics.beginFill( 0x0000ff , 1 );
myCircle.graphics.drawCircle( 0 , 100 , 10 );
addChild(myCircle);
addEventListener(Event.ENTER_FRAME, onUpdate);

function onUpdate(e:Event):void {
myCircle.x++;
}

It might seem like they require a similar amount of code, but a lot of the Flash code is one-time initialization, and as you add more objects, the necessary lines of code will grow at a slower rate than in the JavaScript example. In the HTML5 example, you have no built-in way of referring to your circle, but in Flash, you can always refer to myCircle in order to modify its properties. Of course you could add this kind of functionality to the JavaScript code, but the point is that it’s not built in. There are many other examples of why frameworks are useful, but I’ll spare you further details.

There’s a big demand for someone to step in and extend that basic API into something high-level and object-oriented; I think Adobe should take a shot at it. Rather than provide a way for Flash to be converted to HTML5, Adobe should reinvent Flash as an HTML5 framework.

Of course, Adobe’s competitors have a head start (e.g. jcotton, Processing.js, Fabric.js, three.js, and Raphaël); nevertheless, even though these frameworks are impressive projects, they’re mostly just small open-source efforts that might never be sufficiently robust for full-scale commercial applications. Adobe, on the other hand, has the years of expertise and legions of developers necessary to make something powerful and professional. Simply put, they’re in a perfect position to create the jQuery of Canvas animation—unless jQuery beats them to it.

Although I’ve been aware for a while that “mobile” is the buzz word du jour (much like Facebook or Twitter), I haven’t always been quite so well-informed about the business benefits of mobile applications. I don’t think I’m alone in suffering from that gap in knowledge.

As a regular Mashable reader, I was delighted to see an entry on their site addressing the very thoughts that cross my mind every time a prospective client mentions the term “mobile apps.” I won’t attempt to distill a thorough, logical discussion down to a mere sentence or two—instead, I recommend that you read Aaron Maxwell’s article yourself, along with the comments below it. I think you’ll find the points he raises to be very informative, especially if you haven’t been able to put a dollar value on the ROI generated by custom mobile applications as opposed to mobile-optimized websites.