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CSotD: Friday Follies

Another of those “no politics” days where you can’t avoid some politics. I like the notion of anything with a foreign country in its name being more expensive, and the idea of companies charging tariffs on things that shouldn’t have tariffs is funny.

Except if it happens, and maybe it did and maybe it didn’t. A craft brewer hereabouts is disputing a charge for tariffs on some taps he had already received and paid for. Apparently. But the political thing that struck me was that the more newsrooms get pared down, the more reporters miss important details, either in haste or by not knowing the beat.

When did he receive the taps? When did the tariff go into effect? We don’t know because apparently she didn’t ask. One favorite cliche these days is about “having the receipts,” but this is a case in which it should be taken literally. Details matter.

We’re creating news deserts throughout the country because venture capitalists need to monetize their purchases, even if it means paring things down to the point where they no longer function.

My first newsroom now has less than a third of the reporters that it had when I worked there. Back then, I could spend a few hours hunkered down with police while they set up and busted a medical fraudster or go hang out with Geraldine Ferraro for the day or take the time to really look into and explain the Americans with Disabilities Act.

Today, I’d need to file all three stories by deadline, even if I hadn’t had the time to figure out any of them, and record the half-baked results as audio files for non-reading readers.

News deserts are real — click here for details — but badly-done news isn’t much of an improvement.

I didn’t wait until I was a reporter to be the kind of nonconforming thinker that drives authority figures nuts, but I do hope I’d have had enough of a filter twixt brain and mouth to have kept this thought to myself.

Though I did used to draw up satirical newspapers that got passed around, but only one copy per issue. I didn’t have access to duplicating machines like Wayno did. So I mostly stayed out of trouble because of technical limitations, which isn’t all that heroic.

As I’ve said before, I did manage to get “Aristotle is full of bad waste” in Greek into a paper in college, but the professor bought my reasoning and thought that was funny. I’m pleased to see Existential Comics make much the same point I did, and suggest the bad-waste observation in more detail at the end.

Speaking of kids who tread the line between smart and smartass, Edison Lee and his friend/rival Katie are off on an adventure that began at the science fair and is headed elsewhere.

Looks worth following. You can start here.

More metaphysical surrealism here. I’m torn on the concept, because I’d sure like a job where I could just do my job and be left alone, but I’m not sure a thumb’s-up would be sufficient feedback. However, I guess I’d be okay as long as I was permitted to listen to my radio at a reasonable volume.

I’m glad to see Price and Piccolo take on the disconnect between the promise and the fact, because Red Delicious apples got named long ago and haven’t lived up to what newer varieties can deliver.

They’re not the only apples that get mushy, and here in apple country, going out to the orchard is more than just fun. We all know that Macs are crisp and tart for a very short time, and then only if fresh from the tree or properly stored, but even Honeycrisps stop being crisp if you leave them out.

I know a nice bowl of fruit looks lovely on the dining room table, but it doesn’t take long for apples to go from great to mediocre if they’re not refrigerated.

Arlo once more channels me. We drank a lot of Booner back when then-wife and I got together and, in fact, had it in our wedding ceremony, though in a slightly self-mocking, sentimental gesture.

It’s since been through some changes, but then again, so have we. As Arlo says, we all move on.

Still, given the vast selection of ghastly alcopop on the shelves these days, I don’t think our generation has to apologize for Booner.

It is indeed that time of year. My morning routine includes taking the dog out after I file the day’s CSotD, so we’re at the park by 9, when it’s still kind of chilly, but I stop to do errands on the way back, at which point I’m way over-dressed.

The trick is to have the leash, treats, poop bags and ball in your coat pockets so you can leave the whole rig in the car. The other trick is to have a dog who won’t raid those pockets while you’re in the store.

I had a dog who stole the treats from the pocket of a very nice harris tweed sportcoat. I wouldn’t have minded if he gone in through the top, but he chewed his way in through the bottom.

Fortunately, my current pup is respectful of my stuff.

My girl would, however, be delighted to work for a dog mobster putting contracts out on squeakers. I have to keep tennis balls away from her, because she can strip and split them in moments, and she is instant death for anything with a squeaker.

I would note that much larger animals manage to enjoy a squeaker without feeling compelled to destroy it.

Tonight’s pay-per-view alternative to the WHCA dinner has a fantastic line-up, which they bill as a response to corporate media and a stand for free speech, though I think if your $20.26 were going to a particular cause, they’d say so.

But the WHCA obeyed in advance, cancelling their comedian this year, so don’t tune in to their shindig expecting anything but tuxedos, gowns and air-kisses as journalistic ethics take a chummy break for Nerd Prom.

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Comments 16

  1. Venture capitalists are nothing more than economic parasites. The host is left either debilitated or left for dead while the parasite goes looking for a new host.

  2. I cry foul. How is there flour in French toast? It’s bread, eggs, milk, cinnamon. I looked up some recipes in case everyone I know has made it wrong my entire life, and while I did find a couple that whisked flour into the eggy goo, they’re rare outliers.

    As I know I’ve mentioned whenever the good ol’ days of newspapering come up, my first job out of college was at a small local daily, circ. about 15,000. We had three editors, six or seven reporters on various beats, one chief photographer and two or three stringers, two sports writers, and a women/lifestyle editor (as archaic as that sounds), plus different departments doing paste-up and layout, sales, press, etc. I’m guessing our little paper employed 30 or 40 people total. Just looked it up: they’re down to about five: one editor, two reporters who also shoot photos, one sports guy, and layout done via computer with printing done a hundred miles away. I can only imagine how circulation has plummeted. This is not good for the community or journalism.

    If I’d known I was working in the last gasp of a Golden Age, I’d have paid more attention.

    Your posts of Existential Comics always prod me to read through their archives to catch up, so thanks for that!

    1. I suspect that even gluten-free bread is made from flour.

      1. Agreed: if you bake your own bread before turning it into French toast, you will use some form of flour. I still wouldn’t list it among the ingredients of a French toast recipe, anymore than I’d tell someone sharpening a pencil that first they’d have to mine some graphite and lathe a tree limb into a small cylinder.

        I am delighted that the most contentious issue I will likely deal with today is the composition of French toast. That’s a good day. 😉

    2. I make French Toast the way my mom taught be many decades ago and she learned it from Betty Crocker. For each person, i.e. two pieces, 1/4 cup flour, 1/4 cup milk, one egg, and a dash of salt (I’ve since added a bit of vanilla, but no cinnamon). I still remember one of my kid’s friends sleeping over and saying that was the best FT he ever had. I’ve been eating it that way for 65+ years and I like it better than any recipe I’ve had in a restaurant. And tomorrow is our usual FT Saturday with homemade boysenberry jelly. Yum!

  3. Oh, and I meant to mention: the White House Correspondents’ Dinner must end. It’s always been ethically dubious–what self-respecting journalist would ever attend?–but especially now. These days, journalists must pick a lane. Either you believe the fate of the nation depends on honest and often adversarial reporting, or you’re like Ralph the Wolf and Sam the Sheepdog in the Looney Tunes cartoon, who fight while they’re on the clock but turn into pals when the whistle blows. Reminds me of watching Chuck Schumer yukking it up with Donald Trump at the latest Al Smith Dinner, a similar supposedly apolitical fundraiser for a good cause. Why should I take the rise of fascism more seriously then Chuck Schumer? If these are such dire times, act like it; if not, stop lying to me.

    1. Another reason to end the WHCD- supposedly DJT was so infuriated by President Obama’s jokes about him at the dinner, Trump swore he would get revenge, leading to the whole “birther” issue and Trump’s eventual entry into politics.

      1. I’d have been okay with them canceling the comedy part a month after the previous year’s dinner, but scheduling it, announcing it and then dropping it at the last minute seemed a lot like bending the knee. At some point I’ll write about the perils of professional friendships, but certainly the schmoozing at the Nerd Prom and the parties surrounding it are more than distasteful.

    2. +1 for not confusing Ralph Wolf with Wile E. Coyote

      Oh wait, this site doesn’t have a vote system. Which is just as well.

  4. I love that video so much I swiped it and posted on my page. Thanks!

  5. Always love the content here. And always notice the ads. I know a guys gotta make a living but was disturbed to see a pop-up for Starlink. Didn’t think you would be into hocking for Musk.

    1. It’s not that simple. A service provides the ads. We’d have to hire someone full time to sell ads if we were doing it ourselves.

      1. Yes, I certainly understand that. Hope I did not come across as “judgy.” But I would point out that this service is doing you a bit of a disservice in my opinion.

  6. The last panel of Existential Comics is the absolute perfect example of the actual meaning of the phrase “Begging the Question”.

    I finally have something to point to since I’m not good at explaining some stuff.

  7. Another toad dinner, corrupt on both sides. What a (what’s left of our) country.

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