People with news, and people who want news

Those are two points of view examined in a recent post by Dave Winer.

“If the people with the news can publish it themselves, and they can; what’s to stop the people who want the news from reading it directly.”

Which puts me in mind of High Street Beat, a blog written by the mayor of Jefferson City. Ultimately, his readers get to decide if what he writes is “fair and honest,” but he can speak directly to them, as well as through MSM.

“When professional news people consider the Internet they think of it replacing them. Not so. It reduces their role to a bare minimum, makes them less necessary. I still want soundbites from the sources, but I want them to link to the full blog post behind the quote.”

“If reporters are to remain relevant they have to recast themselves, more humbly. Don’t think about “deputizing” us to do what you do. Instead think of the value of your rolodex, your sources. Cultivate and develop that rolodex. To the extent that you know who to call when a bit of news breaks, that’s the extent of your value in the new world, the one we live in now.”

Most of the reporters I’ve known and worked with work very hard. For not much money. But more than a few of them have viewed the companies they work for a the necessary infrastructure that makes it possible for them to report the news.

While the people running those companies viewed the newsrooms as a cog –a BIG cog, but a cog– in a machine whose purpose was to turn a profit. A classic dog and tail situation.

I’m reminded of that classic scene in Network where Arthur Jensen explains things to Howard Beale:

Jensen: The world is a college of corporations, inexorably determined by the immutable by-laws of business. The world is a business, Mr. Beale! It has been since man crawled out of the slime, and our children, Mr.Beale, will live to see that perfect world in which there is no war and famine, oppression and brutality –one vast and ecumenical holding company, for whom all men will work to serve a common profit, in which all men will hold a share of stock, all necessities provided, all anxieties tranquilized, all boredom amused. And I have chosen you to preach this evangel, Mr. Beale.

Howard: (humble whisper) Why me?

Jensen: Because you’re on television, dummy. Sixty million people watch you every night of the week, Monday through Friday.

One thing, not the only thing, but one important thing that has distinguished reporters from their readers/viewers/listeners is the reporters had a platform or medium from which to report. That distinction has blurred, if not disappeared.

Suffering from latent anglophilia

“An Anglophile is a person who is fond of English culture and England in general. In some cases, anglophilia represents an individual’s preference for English culture over their own; the belief that English culture is superior; or an appreciation of English history. American anglophiles will often use English spellings, such as ‘colour’ instead of ‘color’, ‘favourite’ instead of ‘favorite’, ‘centre’ instead of ‘center’, and ‘realise’ instead of ‘realize’. (Wikipedia)

I love getting email from Keith Povall, author of Sturdy Soapbox. But I really wish he’d send me an MP3 file instead, so I could enjoy what I’m certain is a charming accent. Same goes for Phil Powell and James Smith, charter members of the Order of the Fez. I’d love to hear those lads read the back of a cereal box.

The newest members of the OOTF are John, Andy and Clive (Clive! How perfect is that?). They’re in a band I think. Brits all, but I’ve never heard their voices.

If you’re reading this, mates… how about recording a little something and sending it along. I don’t care what. I just want to hear that music that is the Queen’s English (or whatever you happen to speak). You can reach me at SteveMays@Gmail.com

Found pup

Founddog450While waiting for George to join us for our Saturday morning gab-fest at the Coffee Zone, Tom and I saw a small dog run into the street. Lots of traffic and the dog seemed to have not street-smarts. Just ran down the middle to busy intersection.

I went out to try to help get her out of the street and succeded with the old pretend-you-have-a-treat-in-your-hand trick. When I picked her up she was frantic for a bit but calmed down. I took her into the Coffee Zone thinking the owner might come looking. Didn’t happen so George drove us to the shelter. Turns out she had been picked up a week ago and returned to owners.

Who apparently let her get out again. A scan of her chip confirmed and the owners were called again. I didn’t know dogs could have blue eyes.

I Told You So!

Strange/muted tension at work today. I am one of a handful (five? six?) of out-of-the-closet Obama supporters in our office. Two years ago, Bush supporters roamed the hallways like Senior jocks, administering titty-twisters to freshmen Liberals. As Bush devolved into the pariah he has become, they shed their Neocon uniforms and melted back into the crowd.

Today, the morning after the majority of Americans said they’d had enough of W and his ilk, I gave the gop’er’s lots of room and resisted the Snoopy Dance. And they found other things to talk about as we passed each other in the parking lot.

A few have dropped a little chum in the water to see if I’d bite (“Boy, the country is in trouble NOW”). But it’s hard to lay this shit-storm at O’s feet after only a few hours.

But it’s coming. A few of my pals are already looking forward to playing “I Told You So,” but I’m ready.

I’m encouraging them to chronicle every misstep of our new president. If they don’t have a blog, I’ll help them set one up. They can share their anger and despair with the world. And me.

For those that insist on sharing their political angst with me in person, I’m introducing a new feature on my politix blog:

Itoldyouso“I Told You So.”I’m keeping an audio recorder with me at all times. When the subject turns to President Obama’s latest terrorist/socialist/liberal sin, I whip out the recorder and let them have their say. Which I’ll post to the politix blog. Unedited and unfiltered. A bully digital pulpit.

Don’t want to go on the record, no problem (“Did you see 30 Rock last night?”).

Seriously,  hope it doesn’t come up. I HATE talking about politics. Or religion. Or my sexual fantasies. I’ve posted on this before.

So, if you love me… if you enjoy my company, but hate my politics… don’t read my blogs. And I won’t read yours. But we can both have our say and spend our time together talking about movies or books or that smokin’ hot intern.

Voter Number One

Original plan was to roll out at 4 a.m. and get to the polling place by 4:30. Couldn’t sleep so wound up getting a good spot by arriving at 2:30 a.m. Didn’t see a soul for a couple of hours, but by 5:30 a.m. a line had formed. I am proud to say I was voter #1 at my place. Whatever happens, I’m glad there was an election and I got to take part.

Election 2008 - 3

Update: Very short video of the line as I left at 6:08 a.m.