It's the Friday before Halloween, and Jason McCabe Calacanis, the onetime king of New York's Silicon Alley, is holding court in his new hometown of Santa Monica, California. Dressed in a chocolaty suede blazer, a BlackBerry glued to his hand, he walks into the poolside restaurant of the hipster-packed Viceroy hotel, asks for seats near a heat lamp ("for the lady") and balks when the hostess tries to seat us at a perfectly pleasant table for two. "We want the nice ones," he says, pointing to a larger setup with four fancy pillowed chairs. The hostess rolls her eyes, grimaces, and walks us over to the cushier table.
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