Chris Sacca's 'What is left?'

Four Questions

The organizers of the Fortune Brainstorm conference asked each of us attending to answer four questions. These responses were compiled and distributed in a folder for all of us to scour.

My answers:

What is the most pressing problem to solve?
Global adoption of sustainable living practices.

Your biggest fear?
The enduring conflict between reason and faith.

Three global leaders who will set next decade's course?
Mahmoud Ahmadinejad - Both individually and as a proxy for the Arab world

Larry Page - Not a kneejerk hat tip to my fearless leader. I sincerely believe that Larry (and Sergey) have the stuff to change the world yet again.

Jin Renqing - Finance minister of China - emblematic of massive economic power of China and Asia generally, and in short term, disruptive potential of floating currency.

Your most cherished value?
Openness.

Bottled Water = Oil

[Spending the next twelve days in Aspen for both the Fortune Brainstorm and Aspen Ideas conferences. Looking forward to being in the mountains for a spell and spending the time, as is the case at Google every day, surrounded by people a lot smarter than I am.]

When you arrive to Aspen from either of the coasts, considering the town's elevation of 7844ft all the locals will admonish you to drink water, lots of water. Sage advice to prevent the malaise of altitude sickness. Shouldn't be a problem in such an idyllic setting with a rushing river passing right through it's heart, right?

Yet, it would seem that the water source of choice here in Aspen is bottles of Fiji water. A few months ago it wouldn't have occurred to me and I would have grabbed a bottle and chugged away. However, a fellow Googler recently sent me a photo that has forever changed how I think about bottled water.

The picture's author, David Coale of Acterra, calculated the amount of oil required to ship a bottle of water from its source to the Bay Area of California. Then he poured this amount of oil into each bottle:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Since seeing this photo, I have been virtually unable to drink from imported water bottles. To me, the water now actually tastes like oil! What do you think?

[By the way, Gmail, where I composed this post, is showing me ads to buy a Nalgene reusable bottle. Good idea. I have got mine right here. Now to find a hose to fill it up . . . ]

 

Phil Merrill

Last weekend, my friend Phil Merrill apparently fell from his boat and drowned while sailing solo in his beloved Chesapeake Bay.  I hesitated to write this post for a few days, because those who know Phil always expect surprises from him.

I met Phil at the Aspen Institute and was immediately entertained by his boldness and intellectual vigor. One of a increasingly rare breed of intellectual Republicans, Phil surrounded himself on all sides with lefties. I soon learned there was nothing quite as thrilling to Phil as a spontaneous and robust policy debate. Over dinner, over lunch, in the hallway, anywhere.

I was instantly drawn to his brash style and the edicts with which he would pepper his conversation. Behind a seemingly simple and folksy facade was a brilliant mind that would craft some insurmountable arguments. However complex and academic his thoughts, they were always delivered in plain English.

Phil was also a storyteller of enviable skill with endless material to relate. He had an unmatched ability to hold court over dinner and recount fabulous tales of conducting a foreign military's marching band or huddling up in some far flung locale to negotiate nuclear disarmament with cold war Soviets.

Though to describe him in any way as 'humble' may sound funny to many who knew him, I was always impressed by his willingness to admit the things about which he knew nothing and about which he was hungry to know more. He was unabashedly honest. This is how Phil and I became friends.

Phil was fascinated by Google and so excited by the power of such a tool. He would propose derivative applications for Google off the top of his head with each new nugget he grasped. As soon as I would answer one question, Phil was at the ready with three more. In this light, I am particularly sad because Phil and his wonderful and sharp wife Ellie were scheduled to come visit me at Google very soon so Phil could bombard me with yet another wave of curiosity.

I will leave it to others to detail Phil's myriad professional and philanthropic accomplishments. This Washington Post memorial does a fine job of attempting to summarize such a full and inspiring life. In the meantime, I will just note how lucky I feel to have known him.

Baghdad ER: Required Viewing

It's no secret. I am not a fan of the president nor his administration, and I am particularly not a fan of the mess he created in Iraq.

In the unending effort to keep tabs on the Iraqi debacle, I struggle to find unfiltered nuggets of news and insight, or even glimpses from the front lines to color the horror of war that is otherwise too often presented to us in diluted and plastic soundbites.

If you are like me, look no further than HBO's devastatingly honest documentary from a Baghdad Army hospital, Baghdad E.R.

I have seen this piece three times now and each time is moves me to tears. There is but one politically oriented criticism uttered during the entire film. Instead, the footage speaks for itself. In contrast to the sterile portrayals we catch on newsreels, this movie pulls no punches. Just raw footage from the E.R. setting forth in horrible,  cathartic detail the unadulterated tragedy of war.  In fact, the military has issued warnings that this documentary could trigger post traumatic stress disorder among those who have served in combat.

Everyone in the United States should have to watch this film. Twice.