A report in The Telegraph says that King.com, the London-based company behind Candy Crush, will go public on the NASDAQ. Only no one can hate-read their S-1 filing to see how much money King made off addicts who splurge on power-ups and life packs because the company has opted for a "secret IPO."

This is either a sickening hoax or a true sign of end times: Kozmo, up there with Pets.com as bobble-headed mascot of the Dot Com Implosion, is apparently returning from hell. Is this really happening?

And by now, I mean again, because an economic disaster wasn't enough to teach people that modesty is becoming when you're touting a business with no demonstrable worth. But, Pharrell!

Have you ever put sliced cheese between bread, and exposed it to heat? Did you think this activity, on a larger scale, warranted a $10 million investment from a tech titan? Probably not, because it's sandwiches. But Michael Moritz of investing mammoth Sequoia Capital thinks otherwise. And here's why! Sort of.

Lucas Duplan dropped out of Stanford, brought a bunch of his buddies with him, and got to work on something daunting: creating an app that lets you pay for things with your phone. This is daunting because so many other things let you do it. Despite this, and the fact that his app is a total mystery, powerful VCs just handed him $25 million.

Brit Morin profits, literally, from the Donald Rumsfeld school of reality: repeat something often enough and it will be so. Someone once called her the "Martha Stewart of Silicon Valley," and the label's been repeated in almost every article ever written about her, iota of talent not withstanding. Today, it pays off.

Zynga went public over the popularity of a few hit Facebook games, and is now in the process of collapsing into a mush pit. Now the makers of Candy Crush Saga, the jellybean puzzle game gripping the brains of America, are plotting an IPO, the Wall Street Journal reports. First as tragedy, then as farce.

The little 7o-year-old house at 353 Carmelita Drive is about as unspectacular as American real estate gets: two bedrooms, one and a half baths, and a modest 960 square feet. Elsewhere in the country (or at least the state) you could probably snatch it up for around a quarter million, tops: but in Google's back yard, it's four times that.

OK, now we're really heading past the Rubicon: a little app by the name of Elevatr has one task: help you crank out startup ideas as easily and quickly as possible. Because nothing says stable economic sector like a constant stream of easy business ideas.

It's odd to have a decent answer to "What was the worst ____?," but Color was the worst app. It did nothing amid fanfare, secured $41 million in order to accomplish this nothing, and then it just evaporated without warning. An obscene, expensive pixel farce. Watch its creator try to explain a startup Bay of Pigs.

Om Malik says Snapchat—which is free, a potential privacy disaster, and makes zero money, in any currency, whatsoever—is "close to snagging about $100 million in new investment at a valuation nearing half a billion dollars." Let's think this through.

Not much to do with this one other than shake your head, wipe away a tear, and look into the distance, face blank. Sparkpr, which manages top tech accounts like Vevo, Rdio, and Dropcam, is having a 90s theme party, focused around one of the most disastrous aspects of the entire decade.

With fears of a tech bubble looming, what better tie-in for your company fête than... the period right before America's greatest financial disaster? Someone at AirBnb sure thinks so: mark your calendars for a boozy night on West Egg. This might be the most oblivious party in startup history.

Last night's launch party for Gig-It, an online sim game that essentially swaps out FarmVille's crops for rappers, was music video lavish. It looked like its backers just listened to the radio for 30 minutes, said Hire them all!, and then smoked some blow out of a rolled up bitcoin. But what... is Gig-It?

Well, technically not all of it. After working as a programmer for online gaming community Meez.com, our tipster saw his scoop of the corporate money sundae reduced by 8,000,000 to 1, leaving him with just a little more than it cost to mail him this check. "Sometimes you win," he told us, "but you rarely hear about the losers."

Jason Goldberg and Bradford Shellhammer did something rare: they built Fab, a shopping website that's standing out from the other trillion shopping websites. Sales are up, and judging by the pictures they post of their fabulous lives, egos are up too. This is conspicuous consumption at its bubble best.