CSotD: Friday Follies
Skip to commentsAnother 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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