The Beats Go On

I'm building this year's Advanced Reporting class around campus beats (our campus having a population slightly larger than Wazoo, Alaska, if you dislike pictures lacking a scale model). Here's the beat list from which the kids must draw.

Possible Beats F2008/Robertson

New faculty

Teaching quality

Adjacent neighborhoods

Campus construction

Wars in Iraq & Afghanistan

Overcrowding

Majority/minority issues

K-Hall

Jesuits

Student government

Cost of college

War on science

Freshmen

Campus unions

Politics

Campus safety

USF and San Francisco

Idea for beat stories: Post on your blog and invite comment of those you use as sources or otherwise feature.

The Glass is 80 Percent Full (Even if the Water is Cloudy)

Get a grip, people. According to our own soon-to-be-privatized Social Security Administration, McCain has a life expectancy of another 12 years, and there's only a 20 percent chance he'll die in office.





Mourning Roosevelt


As soon as I have the dementia stats, I'll get back to you.

My Advanced Reporting Syllabus for the Fall. Suggestions Welcome, My Friends.

Advanced Reporting
Fall 2008
Dr. Michael Robertson
Office: Kalmanovitz 119
Phone: 666 6250 (office); 510 836 4870 (home); robertson@usfca.edu


OFFICE HOURS: Monday, 3:30-5:30; Wednesday, 3:30-4:30.

BOOKS: Ken Metzler's Creative Interviewing. You will be expected to own and use an AP Stylebook.

You will be expected to read regularly, and preferably subscribe to, the San Francisco Chronicle. That said, I have arranged to have the Chronicle’s electronic facsimile edition available to the class online. You also will read the Foghorn and watch the news segments of USF-TV. Articles may be assigned from various magazines and books placed on reserve in the library.

ATTENDANCE: No work missed through unexcused absence may be made up. Only absences for which a signed excuse is obtained will be considered excused. The course will meet at other sites at least once during the semester. Make arrangements as soon as possible to have free the evening of Tuesday, October 7, for the Oakland City Council meeting.

If you have any physical or emotional handicap or other problems that will affect your attendance or performance, inform the instructor by the end of the first week of classes.

ACADEMIC MISCONDUCT: Any student found to have plagiarized or fabricated work will be given a failing grade for the semester.

LATE ASSIGNMENTS: Stories will be accepted after deadline. However, such stories will not receive full credit unless accompanied by a medical excuse. Stories a day late will be penalized 2/3rds of a letter grade. Each subsequent day's lateness will result in a penalty of 1/3rd of a letter grade. In other words, a "B" paper turned in two days late would be lowered to a "C" grade. A story that is never turned in will be given a zero and averaged into your final grade on the basis of A/95, B/85, C/75, D/65 and F/55.

BEAT REPORTS: Starting the third week of the semester, students will be responsible for turning in a weekly beat report in addition to the assigned beat stories. The quality and consistency of those beat reports and of the final beat summary will count for 15 percent of the final grade.


*EXTRA CREDIT*: Stories printed in campus or other publications will be considered at grade time. Those stories may be assignments done for the class or other work. To obtain extra credit consideration, you must turn in a portfolio containing your published work for the semester by exam day.

BLOGS: Most of you created blogs when you had me for previous classes, so you have a head start. Every Monday you are responsible for posting on your blog a journalism-related question, statement or observation. Every class member will then vote by email in support of which question, statement or observation she/he finds most compelling. By the following Monday, every class member other than the winner of the vote will comment on that Q/S/O. Extra credit will be given to those students who do more posting on their blogs than this minimum – if it’s good work.

MULTIMEDIA: The “big story” must have a multimedia element. Any of you stories may have such an element, which means extra credit. Such work is not the focus of this class. However, I *urge* anyone in this class who is seriously interested in journalism to take the New Media course taught by David Silver and the Video Reporting course taught by Vicky Nguyen and Toan Lam, both of which will be taught next spring.

LEARNING OUTCOMES

Upon completing this course, a student should be able:

1. To write clear, accurate news stories of various types ranging in length from 250 to 2,500 words using correct grammar, spelling, punctuation and syntax.
2. To explain the decision making process for making news judgments and the ethical
challenges therein.

3. To understand the how professional journalists understand the concept of objectivity
and to be able to address its limitations.

4. To apply news judgment to sets of facts and synthesize those facts into effective, concise leads and coherent, logically organized news stories.

5. To know when information must be attributed to a source to avoid editorializing and how to handle attribution smoothly in a story.

6. To understand the general sources for news (observation, interview, written reports), the necessity of skepticism in dealing with these sources; to master the process of verifying information; to exhibit that understanding in your stories. You will supply me with a mailing address and/or telephone number and/or email address for each person quoted in your stories. At least once during the semester, I will send a copy of your story to those used as sources to get their judgment of your accuracy and professionalism.

7. To use basic AP style rules in the stories written.

8. To prepare copy so that it is clean and conforms to standard copy preparation rules. (For instance, always double space.)

9. To create and maintain a personal blog.




GRADES:

A

This grade is for work of clearly professional caliber. Writing is clear and concise with only minor editing required. Reporting is complete and leaves no questions unanswered. The work is turned in on or before deadline.

B

This grade is for work that could be raised to professional quality without major editing. Writing is basically grammatical and requires only routine changes but lacks the sparkle of A work. The reporting manages to focus on the main ideas of the story -- but may have a few organizational problems and a misplaced emphasis. Work is in by deadline.

C

This grade is for work that does not measure up to professional standards but could be salvaged through rewriting. Work could not be used professionally without being returned to the reporter -- or assigned to another reporter! Writing has obvious rough spots. Grammatical errors are present. Reporting leaves questions unanswered. Work is usually done by deadline -- but is occasionally late.

D

This grade is for work that is clearly unacceptable in a professional setting. The writing is confused and ungrammatical. The reporting is weak and often misses the point entirely. The work is often late.








COURSE OUTLINE


Week One: September 3

What is news? The nature of news and newswriting. Why you are here. The assignment for the first week is to produce a back-to-school story, which will be due next Monday. It must be 250-300 words. You may choose to submit a longer version. But if it is longer, it must be accompanied by an edited version of 250-300 words.


Week Two: September 8

Covering a beat. What a beat is and how it works. What makes news on a beat? Writing on deadline. How you can get it done by the time it's supposed to be done. The why's behind getting it done on time. San Francisco Chronicle staff writer Nanette Asimov will be in class on Wednesday to describe her work as a beat reporter. Read chapters 13 & 15 in Metzler.

Due Monday 9/8: Back-to-school story.

New assignment: You will be given a campus beat. For Monday in two pages, explain why the beat is important enough to warrant coverage. Include who you anticipate will be your primary sources and the kinds of stories you believe will come off that beat. For Wednesday: Your first beat story. Minimum length 250 words.


Week Three: September 15

Interviewing review. Review chapters 1-12 in Metzler.
Due Monday 9/15. Your beat description.

Due Wednesday 9/17. Your first beat story.

New assignment: For next Wednesday your second beat story. Minimum length 250 words.



Week Four: September 22

The meeting story. The basic outline of the meeting story. Prepare for coverage of a meeting of the Oakland City Council in two weeks. A consideration of “Civic Journalism,” its dangers and opportunities.

Due Wednesday 9/24. Your second beat story.

New assignment: For next Wednesday your third beat story. Minimum length 600 words.



Week Five: September 29

Required conference with instructor. Class will not meet Wednesday.
Continue preparation for meeting of Oakland City Council.

Due Wednesday 10/1. Your third beat story.

New assignment: Tuesday October 7 we will leave USF at approximately 6 p.m. and travel to Oakland, where we will cover the weekly meeting of Oakland City Council. Class will not meet Wednesday, though I will be in the classroom available for discussion. A story covering the meeting is due Thursday 10/9 by 5 p.m.


Week Six: October 6

Tuesday evening lab, October 7. Please clear your schedule. We will attend an Oakland City Council Meeting 7:30 p.m.-? Story is due by 5 p.m. Thursday. No Wednesday class, but I will be in the classroom if anyone want to talk about the meeting story.

Due Thursday 10/9. Your meeting story.


Week Seven: October 13

The business story. The basics of business. Net and gross. Reading business reports. What makes a business story. Reading the business newspapers. What stocks and bonds are. Where PR and journalism meet.

Due: Nothing.



Week Eight: October 20

The final project, a 2,000-2,500 word story on a topic of campus interest derived from your beat. Read chapters 16 & 17 in Metzler. The Big Story is due Friday, 12/15, by 5 p.m.

Due Friday 10/24. Your business story. No minimum length.


Week Nine: October 27

Using the AP Stylebook.

Due Wednesday 10/29. Proposal for your final project.

New Assignment: For next Wednesday, your fourth beat story. Minimum length 250 words.

Week Ten: November 3

AP style test on Monday. Required conference with instructor. At those conferences you will turn in your project proposal for your Big Story. Class will not meet on Wednesday.

Due Wednesday 11/5. Your fourth beat story.



Week Eleven: November 10

The science story.

Due: Nothing

New assignment: For next Friday, your science story. No minimum length.



Week Twelve: November 17

Resume preparation. Job hunting skills and what an employer looks for. Ideas about hunting for jobs.

Due Friday 11/21. Your science story.


Week Thirteen: November 24

Working on final projects.

Due: Nothing

Reminder: Big story is due Friday, 12/5. Minimum length 2,000 words.


Week Fourteen: December 1

Feature writing. The anniversary story. No minimum length. Writing in class for practice and a grade.

Due Friday 12/5. The Big Story.

New assignment: The anniversary story is due Friday, 12/12.


Week Fifteen: December 8

Last things.

Due Friday 12/12. The anniversary story.

Final assignments: Fifth beat story and the final beat summary, a description of sources that would be useful to the next person assigned the beat, are due Friday, 12/19.

Kilt Her a B'ar When She was Only Three

And then she learned how you could kill them in bunches.

We Are Alaska (And So Can You)

I asked a friend who worked the pipeline and has many contacts in Alaska what he made of the pregnancy of Mrs. Palin's daughter. I really had two questions: Is there a libertarian streak in avowedly conservative Alaskans that explains the family's equanimity -- but isn't there also a frontier tradition of beating the crap out of anyone who messes with your daughter? I kind of like the notion of slapping the punk around, but that's just me. I assume the courts would be on my side.

I was just curious. Dr. Tundra ought to know. But he responded with wider wisdom.

Michael,

I think I could have made some generalizations when I first got up there in 1965. But that Alaska lives only on TV. The place truly isn’t that much different anymore. Here’s what it was like. Follows is a bit taken from the book I was writing. I was living in a treehouse, off a dirt road we named Happy Road, 20 miles west of Fairbanks on Ester Dome. This is 1960s, 40 years ago.

* * *

By this time others had moved onto Happy Road. People came out to visit Charlie, Denny or me, saw the forest, the meadows, the wild flowers and thought, “Hell, I’ll build a cabin out here.” And they did. First, the men came, then their women, followed by dogs, and, a few years later, home-born kids.

Living in the woods in Alaska has been described as one guy in a 12 X 12 foot cabin with a wood stove, one moldy couch, three kerosene lamps and 2,500 paperback books, acquired, a dozen at a time, from the Salvation Army. This was a stereotype of the 1940s and 50s and it’s as true as any other.

But, by the mid to late 1960s and early 70s, there was a new breed of cabin rat living in the hills around Fairbanks. These inhabitants had several things in common. They were white, young (mid-20s to early 30s), and had attended, but never graduated from, college. A lot of New Yorkers, a lot of rust-belt émigrés, very few Californians.

Nobody stumbled onto Fairbanks, Alaska in those days. You were there for a reason. Remember, the tree house was built in 1969, well before the pipeline, indeed, Alaska had been a territory just ten years earlier. If you voluntarily moved to Fairbanks during those years it was understood that you were not cool. You were too skinny or too fat. Your butt was too big or your tits were too small. Your shoulders slumped, you had peculiar teeth, you wore thick glasses, your face looked funny, and most typical of all, you had the social skills of an autistic post office employee. Ordinary people looked at you and wanted to be somewhere else.

Cool people lived in San Francisco, Berkeley, Eugene, Manhattan, Madison, Cambridge, Boulder, Austin, Santa Fe and Key West. Cool people smoked dope, listened to Jimmy Hendricks, went to love-ins, wore tie-dye T-shirts, fucked hippie chicks, hippie dudes, or both. Newcomers arriving in Fairbanks had never been invited to a love-in, would be too frightened to go on their own, and if, by a hideous, once-in-a-lifetime series of impossible mistakes, found themselves at a hippie tribal gathering, music festival, commune, orgy or encounter group, would be too uncool to function.

Happily, the concept of cool/uncool did not exist in Fairbanks at the time, there was only getting through the winter, and, in this, these young pioneers performed quite well. Which brings us to the second reason, just as true as the first, why the genetically uncool traveled to Fairbanks. They came here, because here was the biggest, baddest, emptiest piece of real estate left under United States sovereignty. Do not be deceived, physical presentation and social skills count for less than nothing when it’s 50 below zero and you’re an hour’s walk from the nearest paved road. What counted was what they already had, physical courage and out-of-this-world stubbornness.

So, while Fairbanks city residents would kill for a power line, couldn’t wait to move into a one-story ranch-style house, with, get this, a goddamn lawn front and rear, applauded when Sears opened a catalogue storefront, wrote letters to the editor whining about when, oh when, would Fairbanks get a K-Mart or a McDonalds or a Denny’s, or, dare we say it, a May Company Department Store, outlanders arrived in ones and twos and threes to taste frontier, taste the real-deal before it was ruled and regulated by Safeway-shopping, dishwasher-owning, Rotary-Club-going, thinks-he’s-living-in-suburbia, motherfucking middle-class white boys, their slop-the-makeup-on wives and vile offspring.

Home of the Brave

Can't deny that beautiful Oakland where we have laid our weary heads these last 28 years has had a spate of takeover restaurant robberies, which (I am told) has spooked some folk. I'll admit I wouldn't like it if some thug threatened me with a gun, emptied my wallet, felt up my wife -- and quite possibly felt me up as well if I was looking particularly fine -- and fled into the night, trailing giggles and fumes of boo.

But what the hell? Late yesterday, Miss Baby, Caroline and I took a long slow walk around Lake Merritt. By the time we had looped back around to the pergola at the lake's north end, it was a little late, and we lacked the patience to go home and warm up the big pot of lamb shanks Miss Baby had so lovingly prepared for "the mister," as she calls me.

And there before us was Zza's on Grand Ave., so named because of the half of the huge neon sign that once said PIZZA attached to their back wall. A fine night, warm and thus a surprise since I am always surprised when it is warm in these parts. Freedom from the heavy hand of warm is one of the reasons we live here. But still sometimes one enjoys a balmy night.

We got a table next to an open window that provided a nice view of the lake's Necklace of Lights. Apparently, the youth were equally stimulated by the fine evening -- it's that kind of place -- and it was packed and perhaps a little understaffed. But that was fine. We drank cheap wine and had pizza, pasta and gnocchi, and it got late and later.

Finally, we got the waiter's attention, trumped the bill with some plastic and rose to go. It was about 9:30.

"Wanted to get out of here before the takeover guys arrive," I told the waiter, making a head gesture in the general direction of the door.

"Did you see somebody?" he said, his happy face collapsing.

Never give up, never surrender, as a great man once said.

P.S. And here's the real story of the name.

That's *My* Sister

My 70-year-old sister down there in Tennessee writes:

I have thought and thought about this before e-mailing anyone. I am not insulted as a woman by McCain's choice........I am insulted as an intelligent, thinking HUMAN BEING. How can anyone equate someone having a vagina, uterus, etc. with a Hillary Clinton. I voted for her in the primary and to this day still believe that she was/is the most equipped to be president of our United States. Palin is a slap in the face to all who have a brain and not just hormones. I cannot even write of my indignation at this point and time. He is an idiot!! MB

That's my own Lady Reb.

And while we're at it a little Samantha Bee.

Happy Talk with McCain and Mrs. Palin

It suddenly occurs to me exactly what the McCain and Mrs. Palin pairing reminds me of. They look like a typical local news anchor pair back in the day. For some years, I taught a course called News Media. We did lots of simple eyeball research. We wrote various news stations in local markets and asked them for photos of their anchors and then we tacked them up on the wall.

And the most common pairing back then was: old white guy and perky female half his age. The subtext was sexual, of course, but also involved dominance of the female by the male -- though perhaps you will respond that the sexual subtext already implied male dominance.

Even ten years ago, a common variation on that pattern was old white guy/young Asian female, so McCain and Mrs. Palin are certainly an older variant. But that's what they remind me of, an Action News team, the old boy curmudgeonly and familiar, the gal half of things so bright, perky and filled with smiles that you wondered what she was on.

Oh, another part of our analysis of local TV news underlined just how much of it was nonsense, so obsessed with the trivial that it seemed more a diversion from rather than a description of the day's important events. So McCain and Mrs. Palin have that working for them, too.

Late Saturday night: Brother Pat Daugherty points us at a clip of Mrs. Palin's days as a sports anchor. Nicely vapid, I'd say, just a very pleasant empty pants suit.

Mrs. Palin a Problem for Democrats

Criticizing her is like poking a kitten with a stick. You can't believe how much snark I've flushed in the last 15 minutes.

But wait till my wife gets home at which point you can fasten your seatbelts.

Ernest Hemingway, Political Reporter

Would his first story on the Republican ticket refer to:

The Old Man and the Squeeze





And, hey, look what I found. What seems to be an anti-McGovern cartoon from 1972. Ink in McCain's face and it still works.

Some May Forget That a Third Presidential Candidate Exists Whose Personal Narrative is Second to None

About $2,500. Cool.

Here's a link to what claims to be the Obama Tax Cut Calculator.

And also my reaction to Obama's speech. His manner, his mode, his affect was strong. Strong. STRONG.

Remembering the Runs, the Hits, the Errors

Brother Bob Wieder sends a heads-up link to this story from CJR making light of all the working journalists who appeared in Denver like alligators from the sewers. Writer lists the various occupations of the 15,000 gathered, noting:

1,026 are drunk. This is as it should be.

The AP Stylebook tells us that first sentence is wrong, but the second is pure redemption.

I'm Not the Man I Once Was

Back in the day, I would have preened if I'd done such a story. But now it seems just a little mean. Of course, more often than not such a story is adored by its subjects.

Results 1 - 10 of about 3,060 for gwinnett daily post waffle house wedding. (0.15 seconds)

Search Results

Waffle House Wedding

www.gwinnettdailypost.com/ftp/multimedia/waffleweddingx/publish_to_web/ - 2k - Cached - Similar pages - Note this


Oh, it was my sis in Tinasee who sent the link. She's a good old girl, but not quite this good.

Why We Love Us Some Terry Gross

This morning on NPR interviewing Joshua Green of The Atlantic about the performance of the Clintons in Denver, she considered the quality of their remarks and the response of the Obama supporters to those remarks as and compared that interaction to:

make-up sex.

Which was brilliant and left Mr. Green nonplussed, probably recalling from personal experience (one hopes) of how the zest and sparkle of make-up sex sometimes, even a considerable fraction of the time -- help me out here, gentle reader -- justifies and perhaps even encourages the fight.

Or as that venerable political pundit and marriage counselor Ralph Kramden put it: "To the moon, Alice, straight to the moon."

At Which Point McCain's Advisors Said, "POW and Make That PDQ."

Clinton AND Biden

We will accept testimony on content and manner because we were in Alameda at a farewell dinner for the Cowboy Troubadour Michael Koppy, who after some 20 years of below-water rent in San Francisco lost his apartment when the new owners moved in their dad, who (Koppy says) spent the last decade living in a tent.

Why do we love our friends? Because of their stories, of the twists of their lives -- the ups, downs, sideswipes that make such good stories, true or not, pruned or not, pumped up and glossed over or not.

Koppy always tells a good story, but he is not autistic. He asked us all what our weirdest jobs were which so enmeshed us all in memory and introspect that *he* never told his. Which I bet would have been odd, and that he got fired from it, too.

I'll miss him, which is my current default emotion.

Hillary Thoughts

What more could she have done for our cause? Expose her breasts like Isadora Duncan? Well done. Kudos.

Modest Man with Much To Be Modest About, His Prayer

.... and peace in our time and special peace and rest for the children and the baby animals. And also grant me remembrance at those moments when my opinions are at their most ferocious that I not only supported John Edwards and planned on voting for John Edwards but also gave money to John Edwards. Help me remember that, occasionally, I am wrong and that the world is blessed when it does not follow my lead.

By the way, did I mention the children and the animals?

The Rest (Like the First) is Silence

Didn't watch or listen to any of the Democratic convention tonight. Since nothing was likely to be said that would change my mind or give me information I could use to change somebody else's mind, listening would be an exercise in instance triangulation. That is to say, I would be trying to listen with somebody else's ears, the ears of someone who might be drawn into the Obama camp based on what she/he hears.

I don't know how to listen so tactically. There is no point in doing this, at least on the first night. But curiosity is strong. I'll use my own ears on Hillary and Obama. Still, in the background I've be looking over my own shoulder, like a nurse in an epidemic taking the temperature of imagined others rather than tending my own fever.

And the value? Interesting conversation with like-minded friends about how *they* think the Great Unconvinced will react. And then the sport of matching my conclusions with those of the pundits.

And then we will look at the polls, as if all the spin and filtering hadn't turned them into a kind of Heisenberg exercise.

Just Checking Out an 'On the Media' Embed about Twitter

John McCain to Guest Star on Houses

I Am the New Chair of Media Studies By the Way

Duty, honor, university.

The Answer My Friend is Biden in the Wind

All I know is Brother Greg Pabst points out that Biden has hair plugs -- though they filled in nicely -- but I recall that Proxmire had them first.

Boil these insights and disappear. My opinion of the Biden choice is manic/depressive. However, I feel about it right now, if I put you on hold, I'll feel different when I pick up again.

I just don't know.

Political junkies are like protectors of the snail darter. We are not to be fooled by the trash the other side puts out, and we understand that the other side is hard-core and will not be budged by anything we put out. As we scan the day's political news, both of us hover over those few millions of weirdly undecided -- so strange a species -- who actually don't know what to do but inevitably will break one way or another.

Which bits of nonsense our enemies spew will somehow break through and move them?? What are they listening to, these true undecideds? We try to imagine them. We wonder how we might reach them.

So each morning I wake up to some new Republican lie, distortion or artful framing of something that happens to be true -- though most of the time irrelevantly true -- and I am furious because *I* can't be fooled but out there somewhere are those....

Who really don't seem to paying attention. Who might as well be from another planet when it comes to my understanding them. Who lo0k at the monstrous difference and are inclined to split it.

The Gospel of John McCain from His Sermon to the FatCats

John 14:2

In my Father's wife's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.

P.S.

Okay, I'm forwarding this to people and right there on the subject line a new joke emerges:

John McCain, the one-man suburb

Though ... the instant suburb works, too!

In the Distance a Speck Against the Sky: The Wanderer Returns

Might as well start the blog up again. I'll be making the kiddos do it in reporting and advanced reporting. Time to stave off the encroachments of brain rot by writing long Henry Jamesian sentences that twist, bend, ends collide, dissolve on the night air.

(For mornings, mots as crisp as bacon.)

Here's a mot:

"That John McCain. Pulled himself up by his wife's bra straps."

Call this one wit for an older audience.

Summer Crumbs

A friend emailed saying she had been afraid to ask how Oliver was doing, figuring no news was a death knell, and I wrote back, reprising. Some of you know this and some of you don't.

Actually, little boy has regained the ability to control his bladder. He was sleeping on the "Depends sheets" we were buying at the drugstore and one day we saw him trying to urinate on one of them rather than sleeping on it, which he had learned to do. In less than a week, he was no longer leaking. We kept expressing for another couple weeks because I thought perhaps that was part of the retraining/healing/whatever actually happened. Then we quit that, and he's been fine ever since, even though boy does he piss a lot because he is on steroids.

There's a lesson here. Sometimes holding on and refusing to give up actually work.

Pedants on the Prowl: Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid ... of Laughing Out Loud

I was reading a wine column by Eric Asimov of the New York Times (his sister is a Friend of the Blog)and foolishly blundered into the comments:

7 comments so far...

*
1.
August 1st,
2008
8:07 pm

To Mr. Asimov, whose email address is not shown:
You write “It was the kind of wine you could sniff all evening without ever drinking, so compelling were the aromas …”. Be careful about falling into the trap of accepting trendy but incorrect meanings for words. Compelling is an adjective related to the verb compel that means “to drive or urge forcefully or irresistibly ” [Merriam-Webster]. Thus, it relates to action. It doesn’t mean “wonderful”or “delightful”. It means “having the quality to cause action”. A robber’s gun would compel you to hand over money. It is compelling. In that sense, if the aroma were compelling, one would definitely be driven to do something such as taste the wine.

— Posted by Lance
*
2.
August 2nd,
2008
2:04 am

Lance, that’s nonsense. I’ve definitely experienced wines that had compelling aromas. They caused me to salivate, reflect, and return again and again to the glass.

— Posted by Rajiv
*
3.
August 2nd,
2008
2:47 am

LANCE,

INDEED AS A VERB:

Compel enters in 1380

[a. OF. compeller and compellir (14th c. in Godef.) to compel, ad. L. compell-{ebreve}re f. com- together + pell-{ebreve}re to drive.]

1. trans. To urge irresistibly, to constrain, oblige, force: a. a person to do a thing (the usual const.).

TO YOUR SPECIFIC ADJECTIVE USAGE COMMENT, COMPELLING ENTERS IN 1901 AS:

com{sm}pelling, ppl. a.

f. as prec. + -ING2.]

a. That compels: see the verb.

b. Of a person, his words, writings, etc.: irresistible; demanding attention, respect, etc.

I think Eric has a solid command of his English usage.

ac.

— Posted by ac
*
4.
August 2nd,
2008
7:54 am

To Lance, whose email is also not shown. To continue the off-topic nature of your didactic response, please put periods inside of quotations unless providing an in-text citation after the sentence. Typically, colons and semicolons are the only punctuation that always reside outside of the quotation mark.

— Posted by James
*
5.
August 2nd,
2008
9:24 am

How about compel one to smell the wine over and over? I’m sure many readers have experienced this urge.

— Posted by TWG
*
6.
August 2nd,
2008
12:03 pm

To James: as long as this didactic discussion is continuing, you may find that the placement of periods relative to quotation marks is not entirely standardized. In Commonwealth countries in particular James’s punctuation is becoming the prevalent practice. Would you now care to comment on my apostrophe use in “James’s”?

To everyone more generally, I think Rajiv and TWG have certainly hit on ways that aromas have been compelling to me. Sometimes the compulsion to keep smelling one more time can be stronger than the compulsion to taste.

— Posted by Mark
*
7.
August 2nd,
2008
3:45 pm

I dropped in for some wine talk and am shocked to find an english lesson. Gentelemen please stay away from my blog
( http://www.vintnersvoice.com ), I’ve never cared about winning a spelling bee.

— Posted by Jerry D. Murray

the punchline

write my will and take my pill

The Onion: Satire Lives, Thrives, Walks among Us

JibJab is Back

Send a JibJab Sendables® eCard Today!

Zombie Love/Zombie Hate

Brother Birney Jarvis shares this:






Man Kills Self Before Shooting Wife and Daughter

This one I caught in the SGV Tribune the other day and called the Editorial Room and asked who wrote this. It took two or three readings before the editor realized that what he was reading was impossible!!! They put in a correction the next day.

The Driving Lesson

The Ground Rule Double: An Email Symposium

Ricardo writes:

We've been watching the All Star Game. Evan Longoria of the Rays hit a ground rule double to left, driving in the tying run. Gayle said, huh what. So, I explained the ground rule double rule exactly as either of you would have done, including how many bases runners can advance.

She didn't buy it. Thought it was a total fako cheat. "Why isn't it a home run?" She asked.

Well, that shocked me so much that I could not argue. After ponderation, I think she's right. It should be a home run. We must rewrite the record books.

And I respond:

Unless my memory is faulty, back in the 19th Century *what we call a ground-rule double* was a home run! And, okay, I stepped away from this email to Wikipedia and:

Originally, all batted balls that cleared the fence after a bounce in fair territory or on a fly were counted as home runs. The rule was changed by the American League prior to the 1930 season and was subsequently adopted by the National League on December 12, 1930.

So there you have the strength and danger of wikipedia. When it confirms what you think you already know, the conversation grinds to a halt.

.

Michael Tola, This Better Not Be a Virus

A New View of the Golden Gate Bridge

I'd never seen it quite like this.

It's Nice to Have Something to Shoot For

Katy Crozier writes to say the world's oldest blogger died. Given the fact she was 108, I'd say for once the journalist got it right.

A Former Student Writes About Having Cancer

Hmm. This story is several things, most of which transcend the idea of craft. But all its inspirational and prophylactic excellence aside, we must note: It's a good story. It's a good job. It's good work. It ain't no soggy Reader's Digest fodder. Through his the fear and discomfort, George kept doing his journalism.

By the way, you are not surprised to learn my favorite bit is his explanation of how did he First Learn:

To be specific, I touched my right testicle. How do I explain? To be honest, I must have been getting ready to masturbate. I don't know. Picture me shrugging my shoulders.

News that Matters

Brother Michael Koppy loves folk to push their religious beliefs at him because he is so pleased with his rejoinder, to wit:

"I'm not superstitious."

And then he changes the subject. He says that this knocks them back on their heels because it is an effective shorthand not only for a general notion of his dismissal of the grounds on which religion presents itself but also the offhand contempt with which he regards those grounds. It suggests not only that he thinks religion is wrong but that it is trivial, at its foundations if not in its effects.

Now just speaking from the heart here, I must say that I am not religious but in some rather odd ways I am superstitious. Thus, I have not written of Little Oliver in a while because Little Oliver -- he who seemed doomed so short a time ago -- my friends, he *endures*.

And I don't want to jinx him, to upset the equilibrium by praising his health on Tuesday and then announcing on Saturday that he has finally lost control of his body's caboose and that we have murdered him as a result.

One does not murder animals, of course, or so our vocabulary tells us.

Anyway, his back legs do not work at all well, and sometimes it seems they are about to stop working at all, but a couple minutes ago he staggered over to the sofa on which he loves to curl himself and with a great and brave and desperate kind of bunny hop.... I will say no more.

Who knows what malign omniscience is listening?

Got a Snark Jones

Brother Andrew Goodwin, who has taken a vow of chastity when it comes to blogging during this whole long hot month, noted the local proposal to name a sewage plant after Bush the Younger and wrote:


If someone doesn't say something witty about this I shall get sick from blog withdrawal.

He has laid a mighty challenge since it's hard to imagine a comment about the act that does justice to the act itself. That is, this is a diamond that needs no polishing.

But if Thomas Jefferson were alive, I think he would rejoice at the confirmation of the fact that there really are some truths which are self evident.

A Literary Reference

I was talking to my Lady Wife about what snark is, so I wandered over to Wonkette to find some examples, and indeed one may say that the tide had gone out and the fish lay flopping in the mud and one had but to stretch out one's hand to fill the bucket.

Anyway, in the story about Charlie Crist's engagement I found this comment:

1. 

   wheelie says at 8:55 pm, July 3rd, 2008

   - Reply

   It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single Republican male Governor, in possession of a good political fortune, must be in want of a wife.

There's the Wit the Greater to have written it, but there's also the Wit the Lesser to have appreciated it.

Tonight Jesse Helms Dines in Hell But Not (I Think) in the All-White Section

Jesse Helms is dead. That is *swell*. Breathing the same air he breathed always filled me with disgust.

Raised as a fundamentalist Protestant, I was one of those walking contradictions that sometimes spring from that peculiarly American soil. I was told that humanity was evil -- which I accepted as a proposition even though everyone I knew was kind of nice -- but as a good American boy I was filled with the notions of progress and the march toward earthly perfection.

Perfection is too strong. I believed in meliorism. I thought things inexorably inched forward. Then, about the time I was finishing up my degree at Duke while teaching at North Carolina State, my wife and I saw on the television the pustulant racist fish-faced Jesse Helms doing editorials for a Raleigh TV in which he was railing at (I still remember this phrase) BLACK WOMAN JUDGES.

And much else. But that is the phrase my wife and I recall. He was loathsome, and ignorance was the only prism through which he could have been seen as anything else.

You know the rest of the story. And so as I lost my Christian faith, I simultaneously had to accept that Christianity was pretty much right on about our collective heart of darkness, and I saw that progress was impermanent and anything but inevitable.

The truth is some scary shit, my friend.

Next Stop Bartlett's Familiar Quotations

From one of the Poynter Institute's weekly emails, the one called E-Media Tidbits.

Posted by Amy Gahran 4:49:35 PM

Stupid Filter Tricks: OneNewsNow

tysongay.net Tyson Gay, world-class sprinter. Accept no substitutes.

Today, Mary Ann Akers reports in her Sleuth blog on WashingtonPost.com that OneNewsNow, a site run by the conservative Christian American Family Association, has been having some issues with its filter. Specifically, when it published a June 29 Associated Press article about sprinter Tyson Gay, the site's automated filter substituted "homosexual" for almost every occurrence of "Gay."

...Which led to hilarious absurdities, such as:

"Tyson Homosexual was a blur in blue, sprinting 100 meters faster than anyone ever has.

"His time of 9.68 seconds at the U.S. Olympic trials Sunday doesn't count as a world record, because it was run with the help of a too-strong tailwind. Here's what does matter: Homosexual qualified for his first Summer Games team and served notice he's certainly someone to watch in Beijing.

"'It means a lot to me,' the 25-year-old Homosexual said. 'I'm glad my body could do it, because now I know I have it in me.'"

William Faulkner: The Past is Not Dead. It is Not Even Past.

Or words to that effect. Anyway, Brother John Higgins is recapturing the madness of his youth by putting on YouTube some episodes from his career on late night monster TV 30 years ago.

There is no more late night monster TV. The rise of cable, DVDs, movies on demand, horror parodies on the YouTube -- no need now (nor economic incentive) for the late Saturday night presentation of the cheesiest of the cheese from the catalog of Roger Corman or Hammer Films, interrupted as the movie drew toward its close by an ever-increasing number of cringe-inducing commercials produced by local talent.

Also, I suppose the Nerd Boys -- dateless, spotty, eager to laugh at rather than being laughed at, who were the core audience -- are all playing video games now.

But once every community had some variant of Shock Theater, with all its injokes and barely veiled contempt for the fare being broadcast.

YouTube, our little time machine. Thanks.

Professor of Pop Closes Up Shop for July Holiday. I Sneak into His Blog and Take What I Want

The key word to me is "sentimental," though "narcissism" is good, too. Shall we change the world one navel at a time? (There's more of this, a lot more.)

Q9. In the 1970s and 1980s yours was one of the few – brave, if I may say so – voices arguing against a rose-tinted view of community media. What is your view now, in 2008, of the apparent explosion of creativity happening via self-made documentaries, music videos, mash-ups, social networking media like Facebook and MySpace, and – indeed, we ask nervously – blogs?

Nicholas Garnham: I was critical of community media both because in my view it over-emphasised the power of the media to change social conditions and because it took a sentimental view of community which has been carried forward into identity politics more generally. My view on new developments on the Web is similar. Yes in some areas where production and distribution have been made much cheaper it will encourage perhaps a wider range of participants in that particular form of creative practice. I am not against this of course, but I don’t see it as a great creative revolution -- much of it seems to be the expansion of a depressing individualist narcissism. Similarly with social networking media -- much of this is fashion and will wane. For the rest, so what? I know I am old-fashioned but I simply don’t understand the excitement.

Why I Start Each Day Reading Daily Kos

Markos was about to pony up his full allowance of $2,300 for Obama when O's fallback position on the FISA "compromise" and O's apparent disavowal of Clark's *specific response* to the suggestion that all good presidents should be blowed-up fighter pilots caused Markos to belay that order until Obama showed Kos just a little more starch in his grits.

Folk said OH NO, to which Kos replied:

Now I know there's a contingent around here that things Obama can do no wrong, and he must never be criticized, and if you do, well fuck you! I respect the sentiment, but will respectfully disagree. We're allowed to do that here.

(snip)

Ultimately, he's currently saying that he doesn't need people like me to win this thing, and he's right. He doesn't. If they've got polling or whatnot that says that this is his best path to victory, so much the better. I want him to win big. But when the Obama campaign makes those calculations, they have to realize that they're going to necessarily lose some intensity of support. It's not all upside. And for me, that is reflected in a lack of interest in making that contribution.

I like Obama just fine, and we had an Obama for President sign on the front of our house 18 months ago (someone either stole it or destroyed it!), but I felt all during the primaries that the big difference between H. and O. was 1) electability and 2) connotation, not denotation: Policy-wise they look like pretty much the same person.

Obama's got my vote pretty much no matter what, but if criticism -- criticism with a dollar sign attached -- makes him a better candidate, it's okay to play that card.

God, I love to mix my metaphors.

I Love to Play Games

A few of us meet New Year's Eve to play Fictionary, but last year the usual suspects were scattered, busy or momentarily morose, so it didn't happen. I am a man who loves him some tradition, so last week at the summer solstice -- which I think balances nicely with our rather fuzzy antipodal notion of when our lives reset -- we had that familiar crew over.

(Apologies to our non New Year's game crew. You are up next.)

Five fine words that emerged from the game:

1) Hebephrenia

2) Oxycoccus

3) Palule

4) Praiss

5) Griffinage

I could have linked to their definitions, but that would spoil *the fun.*

Blogging on Empty

Why am I posting so little this summer? I certainly have more time. I could write at length with more thought. Apparently I do not conceive of this blog as a place where I write at length and thoughtfully. Rather, it's a place where I stuff random thoughts into crevices in the day.

But now I have time enough to do more than that. And freedom becomes paralysis.

Interesting. About as interesting as writing about it in three grafs.

Berger *Blahgs*

That Kevin Berger is smart. We are glad he does his work.

Nailed Again

Thank you, Pajama Guy, via Geraldo.

Classic Profile

Janet Macolm's classic New Yorker essay "The Journalist and the Murderer" begins: ""Every journalist who is not too stupid or too full of himself to notice what is going on knows that what he does is morally indefensible."

A bit strong, but there's an important point. Journalists are out to get their story, and will often do it at the expense of the people they report on.

I thought of that when reading this in a New York Times Magazine profile of Mad Men and its creator, Matthew Weiner:

After my first day on the set, I met Weiner for dinner at L’Ermitage hotel in Beverly Hills, AMC’s base for out-of-towners. He was outside finishing a cigarette. Earlier in the day he commanded, “Don’t say I smoke!” Why not? His face changed, and he seemed about 12 years old. “My parents don’t know.” I found that appealing, though I could see him wince once he said it.

This is a good detail, the kind that spices up a piece. It's also a betrayal, but one so common in journalism that I'm not sure writer Alex Witchel even sees it as such. I'm not even sure if readers notice it either.

Do I have a bigger point? Not really. I guess you should think twice before agreeing to be the center of a big article in a magazine read by millions. At least remember your parents are bound to see it.

Once Pat Had Set Up His Sierra Camp, He Turned and He Saw...Nothing

Wake Up Call

Eats, Shoots and Leaves. Yeah.

Thanks, Teresa. This is apparently from Craigslist/DC.



Are you looking for an exciting opportunity make a real impact with your business and marketing writing talents? A dynamic, entrepreneurial for-profit college in Northwest DC is looking for an experienced copy writer and desktop publisher to lead aspects of both internal and external written communications.

To apply: Provide a resume and the following writing sample to demonstrate your abilities. (This is the type of thing we'll ask you to write, so if this doesn't interest you at all, you shouldn't apply) Draft an email that we could send to a student that has taken several courses at our college, but who has withdrawn, encouraging that student to come back and continue her studies.

The details:

You will report directly to the Senior Vice President of Sales and Marketing and will be responsible for writing, editing and proofreading a wide range of print and online materials including content for our web site, emails to students, and other marketing materials.

The twist: while you are writing copy you will also fill the role of security guard, working 6:30 p.m. to 10:30 p.m. Monday through Thursday. We will buy your uniform. You won’t carry a gun. Applicants must be able to pass a drug screen as well as a criminal background check. The security guard spends most of the shift seated at the reception desk, and there will be very minimal security duties. Practically the entire shift you will be able to focus on writing copy – you’ll just happen to be wearing a uniform.

The ideal candidate will bring a BA or BS Degree in Journalism, Communications, English or other Liberal Arts degrees.

I'm Not Joking

A "gay" Othello set in contemporary California in the aftermath of the legalization of gay marriage. Does this sound homophobic? The intention is anything but. I'm serious. It would be -- as the youth say -- awesome.

Of course, it's probably been done 19 times already.

The Fat Othello. I'm ready for my closeup if that one goes.

I Have Just Downloaded Firefox 3

Everything now seems to load faster. Or is it late and my mind is closing down?

Speaking of one's mind closing down, it seems to me that the Cliffhanger is the best Sylvester Stallone movie. I love those nausea-inducing vistas, and Stallone's face looks like a rough draft of something from Mt. Rushmore.

Rocky? Watched it again on cable recently and Rocky's lunkheadedness seemed so calculated, so disingenuous, all which manipulation I somehow missed back there in the 70s.

Talking about Stallone after midnight and striving for the right word: My mind rally has slowed to a walk.

Whither Oliver?

Kitty is doing better than we ever thought he would again. He is still much compromised in the rear parts, but he insists on going up and down the steps, with more diligence than expertise, and we let him because it seems to give him joy.

Since he hasn't leaked for two weeks or more, he now has access to the bed again. In short, we are now imagining we might have him for longer than the next 48 hours.

What caused his improvement? He's had chemotherapy, steroids, daily applications of potassium paste and daily applications of a dark brown vaseline-like substance designed to improve his regularity. We've been pumping his bladder, though we haven't done that for two days since he hasn't made a mistake in so long.

Of course, he rests most of the day and doesn't ask to go out and wouldn't be allowed out if asked.

He's old. That's a fact. This good news can't last obviously, no more than I would be justified making table reservations to celebrate the year Twenty One Hundred. But perhaps I will have a lap buddy as I do the sacred business of The Chair for the rest of this summer.

We are hopeful people here in Oakland. It's our stock and trade.

Why I'm Voting Republican (Thanks, Nancy)

My Conversation with Tim Russert

Because Russert got a degree from John Carroll, which is a Jesuit school -- and certainly for many other reasons -- USF gave him an honorary degree back in 2001. As USF's resident journalist professor -- at the time the one and only -- I was asked to read the official proclamation.

I didn't write it. I was still nursing a grudge from some of Russert's commentary during the Clinton impeachment, but I was certainly not going to step away from the spotlight.

After I read the proclamation (the instructions said), I was supposed to approach Russert (who at this point in the ceremonies was standing center stage listening), shake his hand and return to my seat (the instructions said).

So: I read the proclamation walked over to Russert and said:

"I shake your hand, and I return to my seat."

As the instructions said.

I guess I thought I was being funny. Russert did not seem amused.

Ofay, Can You See By the Dawn's Early Kike...

I know I heard her say that. I know I did.

Plus here are their kids' pet geese, Honky and Mr. Charlie.

Baby Time

Miss Baby Cleo and/or Naomi Wachtel arrived at 7 this morning. We were number two on the watch-the-boys-while-we-race-to-the-hospital list, the idea being that we topped the weekend roster but that others -- perhaps better known henceforward until the end of time as The Layabouts -- would step up during the week.

The Layabouts, however, had turned off their phone or otherwise shirked their responsibility, so we got the call at 1 a.m. -- today? it seems like days ago.

E. stayed with O. -- kitty still needing some tending -- and I put on my fuzzy track suit and answered the call. The moon was low in the sky and half full, and it pleased me to think it was waxing, not waning.

After sitting on the Wachtel sofa for a while, attentive to any restlessness on the part of the boys slumbering nearby, I concluded that they, at 3 and 6, were probably capable of getting up for a glass of water -- indeed, I had no idea where the water glasses were and would probably cut myself -- so I went upstairs and lay down on the comfy bed and fell sleep, rumpled and fuzzy.

About 6:30 a thump-thump on the stairs woke me and thus arrived little Oliver (person, not cat) who had been prepared more than once to find an interloper in the parental bedroom but had, in fact, forgotten all that preparation and was about to slide from wonder to distress when Eliot came thump-thumping-thumping (a little louder and a little quicker) and greeted his godfather with a howl of pleasure, and much trampolining on said godfather ensued.

About 7:30 we got the call. Mom, baby, world doing well. And after a while Seth came home from Kaiser Hospital Oakland to pick up the boys for their first view of the new wonder.

And I yawned and came home, feeling privileged to have helped when help was needed, which is the sweet spot on the Louisville Slugger of life.

Bill Moyers Thinks on His Feet, Steps on the Feet of a Punk

USF's own Juliana Walters sent me this link. What we have is a punk O'Reilly producer trying to ambush Bill Moyers. Moyers doesn 't fade. He steps in, puts his hand on the punk and dominates the moment.

Cool.

And I don't mean an easy manner or casualness that suggests indifference or unconcern. I mean imperturbable.

'Expressing' Oliver's Bladder. A *Vet* Showed Me How to Do This. Seek Professional Instruction Once You Have Been Inspired by Our Demonstration.

Corrections:

Actually Oliver is not a young cat. He is 16. Was I concerned about his feelings by declining to state his age when the cameras were running?

Also, his problem is not just piddling in the wrong place. For ten days, he did not void; he leaked. That was when we were inspired by Sue Russell's treatment of her cat Spenser, who was paralyzed in the back parts from kittenhood, to squeeze Oliver's bladder.

Oliver is not quite paralyzed, but the video makes clear how limited is his control over his rear legs. And that poor little tail! Think of a furry overcooked noodle.

Today I Am 64

The good news is that 64 is the new 62. My only insight is that no one would be interested in my insights if I had an insight.

The iron rules of logic suggest you will disregard what I have just said.

Coming soon: My new haircut.

I Like This. I Have Invited My Wife to Read It....

Someone named Rebecca Traister over at Salon with a vigorous and thoughtful valedictory to Hillary.

Like it or not, Hillary Rodham Clinton was the first female battering ram to rattle the Oval Office door, and while sorrowful Hillary-heads may lyrically and lovingly catalog her many achievements, her bravery and grace, I'd prefer to think of her as she actually has been: a pain in the ass to support, an often inept and ungainly campaigner. She was ill-behaved, she made mistakes, and waged an often dirty and tone-deaf campaign, performing precious few electoral pirouettes. But she also pulverized any quaint notions of what presidential races are supposed to look like and how girls might compete in them.

Language fails us when we say that Clinton "ran for president." Hillary Clinton didn't just run for president. She hustled and jumped and slogged and cried and ate and drank and didn't sleep and put up with her nutty underminer of a husband for president. She lit herself, and everything around her, on fire for president.

Clinton behaved with the kind of naked drive and aggression and mercilessness we revere in, for example, football greats, wrestling stars and military heroes. Her political ambition and ruthlessness are qualities native to anyone putting themselves up for the job of running the country.

Oliver's Immediate Future in 20 Seconds

So Many Thought It. He Said It.

This is from a post at ethicalwerewolf on why HC should NOT be BO's VP.

When I want to see how people think of a candidate (and therefore, whether they'll make a ticket more or less likely to win), I don't rely on my own subjective impressions. My youthful fantasies of being the young White House intern Hillary would use for post-Monica revenge, for example, shouldn't have led me to believe that everybody liked her the way I did.

Even Though I Am a Fabulous Feature Writer, I Spent Class Time Doing A Few Crude Videos. (Technically Crude. Not *Naughty*.)

And here, from today's Chron, is one reason why.

We are talking about more than Hillary Clinton here:

Conquering video in the digital age has less to do with being telegenic or smart, as both Clintons are. Being a politician in the YouTube era means being comfortable with giving up control of your message and realizing that everything you say or do can be uploaded within minutes for the whole world to see - and then mashed up into something new.

Video is the media currency of the millions of young Americans who voted in the primary season this year, many for the first time. Stories told through video percolated to traditional media from blogs and online advocacy sites, from the tirades of Sen. Barack Obama's former pastor, the Rev. Jeremiah Wright, to the off-script comments of Bill Clinton.

Authenticity is more prized online than high production values - the only thing worse than being caught in a gaffe is being perceived as overscripted. (emphasis added)

And thus my philosophy of: good enough for the Net.

All Kitty All the Time: We Are Like a Cable Network

What happens if the cat's current state endures, if we have achieved a kind of equilibrium?

Oliver now has minimal control of his hind legs, and he never moves further than three feet from his cat basket in which we have placed a heating pad set on low. But within those three feet are his two food bowls and his litter pan, and the one improvement in his state that has endured is his ability to control his bladder. As a kind of backup, we palpate his bladder -- I think "palpate" is the word -- and if it's plump enough I give it a nice squeeze. Whatever the cause, O. is using his litter.

His appetite has also returned in a small way. Early in the week we started squirting his potassium gel (for appetite) and his CatLax (for elimination) down his throat, and both seem to be working. So we now have a cat that can barely move, but whose condition may be tolerable -- for us. We keep him in the bedroom once again, and we give him some lap time and some bed time during which he is generously stroked.

He doesn't purr, though. He arranges his body as if he is comfortable and seems to like being petted, assuming we can read cat body language. But how does he feel?

How many cats can dance on the head of a pin? What goes on in a cat's brain, that meat microprocessor? If the pattern over the last three weeks holds, Oliver will be stable for only a short time and will soon lose: appetite and/or bladder control and/or mobility, and then we will "euphemize" him. But for right now it's equilibrium, and he lives on.

Too Late

Next week when this arrives from Hammacher Schlemmer, it will be probably returned -- unless some Kitty Jesus wanders by with healing in His paws. Reason for return?

Expiration of intended recipient

The Three-Step Pet Ramp And Staircase.
Item 73900
Gift Wrap: No

Postscript: And here it is: Jesus Cat.

I'm Sorry, So Sorry (That I Was Such a Fool)

From James Wolcott in Vanity Fair.

Markos spurned the classic liberal temptation to make nice and salve the bruised feelings of the angered and offended, something conservative opponents such as Ann Coulter and Limbaugh never bothered doing. The gibe used to be that a liberal was somebody so fair-minded that he wouldn’t even take his own side in an argument, and in the blog world the term for such namby-pambies is “concern troll.” A concern troll is someone perennially anxious about going too far and doing more harm than good by alienating moderates.

Note to Self

Call vet and see if they do home euthanasia. Not today and perhaps not tomorrow. But soon.

(And if they do, when my own time comes I'll douse myself with catnip...)