Google Wave

Google Buzz

Google+

Google Nexus Q

Google Stadia

Google Allo

Google Duo

Google Hangouts

Google Talk

Google Inbox

Google Spaces

Google Daydream

Google Tango

Google Fiber (scaled back massively)

Google Lively

Google Checkout

Google Answers

Google Clips

Google Picasa

Google Orkut

Google Health (original version)

Google Video

Google Notebook

Google Play Music

Google Expeditions

Google Cardboard

Google Jamboard

Google Domains

Google Shoelace

Google Bulletin

Google Hire

Android Things

Google One Today

Google Currents (both versions)

Google Baraza

Google Web Accelerator

Google Knol

Google Authorship

Google FLoC

YouTube Stories

Android Auto for Phone Screens (deprecated prematurely)

Saturn Cars

Sega Saturn

Wii U

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5738121&forum_id=2...id#49017515)

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5738121&forum_id=2...id#49017554)

Google Glass

Amazon Fire

MySpace

Quibi

Juicero

Google Stadia

Sega Dreamcast

Wii U

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5738121&forum_id=2...id#49017612)

"Kibu.com was an American website for teenage girls that was created in 1999 and launched in 2000. The website was founded as an online community for girls to discuss and exchange advice.

Kibu.com secured a US$22 million investment from high-profile figures in the tech industry, including Jim Clark. However, following the dot-com bubble burst, Kibu.com shut down on October 2, 2000, in only 46 days after launch."

"Kibu.com went online on May 1, 2000.[1] The website ran on revenue from sponsorship deals with Skechers, Barnes & Noble,[6] and The Princeton Review" (!)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kibu.com

Just think bros. We could have had a sister bort full of teenage girls.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5738121&forum_id=2...id#49017954)

His posture is exact, not stiff but composed. He moves with the kind of ease that comes only from deep discipline, the habit of clarity forged over years of study and consequence. His face is angular, deliberate, and silent, like a sculpture meant not for admiration but for reflection. When he smiles, which he does rarely and never without cause, his teeth reveal themselves: strong and white, unnaturally so, as if untouched by stress or sugar. They are the teeth of a man who keeps order in all things.

His eyes are pale and steady. Sometimes they appear gray, other times blue or green, depending on the light and the moment. What never changes is their focus. They do not flicker. They do not betray emotion. They observe, and once they have measured a situation, they rest with finality. In meetings, he does not fidget. He listens without nodding. His stillness is not performance. It is judgment in progress.

He passes through Harvard Business School like a cold wind through tall grass, unaffected by the noise and self-congratulation around him. He never calls attention to his grades, though they are flawless. He never brags about offers, though he has more than anyone. Recruiters remember him not because he chased them, but because they found themselves speaking more carefully in his presence. He does not perform charm. He does not need to. His competence is complete.

He does not speak in abstractions. He does not rely on frameworks or borrowed terms. He speaks in clear, short sentences that leave no residue. When reviewing a product, he does not look first at the roadmap or the metrics. He looks at the thing itself, and then he looks past it. He asks what pain it solves. He asks who is asking for it. He does not ask these questions aloud. He lets the product answer, and often it cannot.

Others are drawn to trends. He is not. He is drawn to use, to necessity, to elegance. He has no interest in novelty for its own sake. When a new product comes across his desk, he does not marvel at the pitch or the interface. He looks for weight. He looks for reason. He does not forgive confusion, and he does not accept momentum as justification.

In conversation, he does not dominate. He waits. He allows others to talk themselves into corners, then walks them out with a single line. He does not pretend to know what he does not. But when he sees something clearly, he says so, without decoration. Sometimes all he says is, this will not work. Sometimes, less.

Had he been there, during the great product failures, his influence would not have come from speeches or memos. He would have asked three questions, and then fallen silent. He would have stared at the screen, then said, quietly, this solves nothing. He would have closed the deck, pushed back his chair, and let the room sit in its own discomfort until the truth became obvious.

They would have listened. Not because he demanded it, but because they knew, beneath all the ambition and noise, that he was their better.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5738121&forum_id=2...id#49111263)