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Monday / overwriting / video — Comments Off
15
Apr 13

“We’ve had an attack”

I was in the car when my phone buzzed. I had a few minutes in the office to read some of the early summaries, sketchy things that were trying to make sense of the senseless.

We took about a half hour and talked about this in class — How would you feel? How would you cover it? What is the public relations approach just now? — and so on.

At the end of class, and after a brief conversation here and a meeting there, the folks in Boston had more to go on, more to share with us.

I don’t know what you see in this video …

… but I see the best of humanity running to the sound of danger, running into the worst of settings, death and the unknown. Police officers, fire, EMTs, civilians and troopers in full utilities destroying a barricade that was intended to keep people safe, but was now preventing the safe care of people.

The smoke hadn’t cleared, all of the glass hadn’t fallen, but people rushed in, did their jobs, did beyond their jobs and maybe helped preserve the world of many others just a little bit, like Carlos Arredondo, who became a peace activist after losing his son in Iraq, who perhaps saved a life today.

You don’t see it in this video, because it focuses on that scene at the blast site, but you can envision the race’s health tent, which turned into trauma triage. And you don’t see, but you can’t not see in your mind’s eye, the marathoners who just never stopped running and went straight to a nearby hospital to donate blood.

And may those things never cease to move you.

At its center the random variables are too chaotic to understand or to interpret in any way beyond divine providence or the absurd. Beyond the spectators, and among the runners, there were many there from Alabama. This is the most comprehensive list of Alabama runners in the marathon. There was a Samford student and her father, who had just finished the race moments before. So far I’ve not found a report of any of them being hurt.

Today could all change some things domestically, I’m afraid. But one thing is certain: the honor and strength and courage of those who rushed to the sound of danger.

journalism / links / Monday / Samford / things to read / Twitter — Comments Off
8
Apr 13

Ziggy’s not so sure

I watched one of the lesser Quantum Leaps late last night.

This is 8 1/2 Months, the one where Sam is about to deliver a baby with the help of a kindly old doctor. I don’t remember this episode. I’m trying to imagine the pitch at the creative table. “Let’s see what the imaging chamber does with vastly different biology. And spice it up with an Oklahoma dirt version of Steel Magnolias!”

There’s a poor man’s Susan Sarandon, a poor man’s Olympia Dukakis and more ’50s “I hear tell she ain’t got no horse sense” vernacular than you can shake a colorblind cat at. The best part is when Al, Sam’s faithful friend in the future who appears in the form of a hologram who serves as his guide, shows up. This is the actual dialog.

Sam: “I can’t have a baby!”

Al: “I know, but Ziggy’s not so sure.”

Computers.

Also, the baby, in utero in the 21st century, is bonding with Sam in 1955. Not everything in the third season was genius.

The great Anne Haney guest stars. Because this is the 1950s she is there trying to coax Sam into giving up the baby so that it can be sent off to some quiet home that is better suited for it than an 18-year-old girl, or a middle-aged, time-traveling, brilliant-scientist-with-an-amnesia problem. Haney’s character could not close the deal though, because Sam has been operating all this time that he’s leaping into these lives to put right what once went wrong. It wasn’t for a few more seasons that we realized he was dead. And these must just be really excitable neurons firing off at the end.

Imagine if there had been popular message boards around when this TV show was on the air. Or if JJ Abrams was involved.

If/when they re-launch this series, I’d watch this episode again. I’d sit through it, I’m saying, but only if JJ Abrams isn’t around to make the foggy mist from the trees turn into the evil alien that is ready to fell us all, and also, there is a massive conspiracy that only Al can uncover, if he doesn’t get unplugged.

I hate relaunches.

Anyway, Anne Haney would get her revenge. She showed up again eight months later (in realtime) as a different character set in Arkansas two years earlier (the drought episode). This made sense on Quantum Leap and quite possibly nowhere else.

And then, finally, after we’d met the father-to-be — he worked for Sam’s dad in the oil fields, but was going off to college in the fall, he was all “I’d want no baby!” — we have the moment of truth. At the pitch table with the writers this was great. “OK, then we’ll have Sam go through all seven stages of grief to acceptance. It’ll be a comical ride from the front door of the hospital into the delivery room. And we’ll show stirrups again! And then Sam, who is intent on keeping this baby, will finally be resistant about having the baby, because, you know, he’s got boy parts, except he’s a woman in this episode.”

And someone says “Wait. He — ”

And then the first guy again, says “They’re watching NBC. They’ll go along with it.

“Oh, yeah. Right.”

Now Al pops back into the delivery room to tell us that the baby has disappeared in the future. Sam is in stirrups in the past. Puuuuush!

The doctor, played by Parley Baer, who is a poor man’s Barnard Hughes, who played the curmudgeonly old doctor in Doc Hollywood, says “I see a head … ”

And Sam leaps.

I plugged Hughes, who has 101 titles on IMDB and Baer, who has 270 titles, into the Oracle of Bacon. They have at least five different one-step-removed connections from one another, including Coreys Haim and Feldman. Why either of them felt the need to work after that, I don’t know.

The gentleman that cuts my hair some times remembers me better than other times. He sees a lot of folks, of course. Today was one of those days where it all clicked. He remembered I taught journalism and wanted to know what I thought of “that Selena woman.” You know how you can change the subject when something like that comes up? “Fox News!”

So we talked about something going on in the Aurora shooting case, where a reporter is refusing a judge’s orders and may be going to jail. We did not have to talk about that Selena woman. Just as well.

(My answer would have been “I was never that strong of a creative writer, and so I am not really the best person to ask.” Because when everyone else is saying everything there is to say about a particular topic, what’s the point?)

So I left with a nice new hairstyle and we talked about photography in class this afternoon.

I have to pack a bag. Here, have some things to read.

How mobile has changed daily news consumption and why you need to understand it:

Mobile devices have extended the time frame during which publishers need to pay attention to the content they are putting in front of consumers, but it has also massively increased the complexity of news consumption throughout the day. That makes delivering the right content in the right way at the right time far more challenging.

If you are in the communication business and you aren’t by now paying attention to mobile growth I’m not sure what will convince you.

Journalism’s decline boosts j-schools

“There is something new to learn [at journalism schools] for the first time since the advent of broadcast journalism in the 1950s,” said Steve Shepard, founding dean of CUNY’s school, which enrolled its first class in 2006. “And it’s much harder to learn it on the job—if you can get a job—because there’s much less mentoring going on compared to my day.”

[…]

Professors acknowledge that they’re sending students out into a tough, unpredictable environment, but say that is part of their education.

Master a skill set, learn more about another one. Consider a double major. Redouble your best writing and editing efforts. Realize the first job probably isn’t going to be The Job. Show them what you have and demonstrate your potential. Work hard. Do good work. Build your portfolio.

That’s the way of it.

Press angry over Obama’s lack of access:

Newspapers and reporters are being left out of the equation, even such established publications like The New York Times and The Washington Post.

Reider reports that Obama “has turned to regional reporters and TV celebrities who are less likely to challenge him.” Obama’s go-to interviewer is Steve Kroft of “60 Minutes” who in January conducted an interview with Obama and Hilary Clinton. The interview was heavily criticized as being “soft.” This is the complaint of many of Obama’s interviews. He is effectively bypassing reporters who ask the tough questions.

First of all, that’s a poor headline. President Obama is accessing things just fine. He’s just not giving the press corps the time of day.

Second, not many people in that particular room are asking “tough questions” these days when they do have the opportunity.

You can look at that in one of two ways. You could scream “Libruhl meeeedia!” Or you might consider that these people are on edge because a.) they have a job to do and b.) when the time comes to talk to someone more important than poor Jay Carney they are chilled because they don’t want to be shut out in the future because c.) see part a.

Also, the president has his audience, he has an embarrassment of riches of media that aren’t in the White House press corps that are just thrilled to have him on the Morning Zoo. And the president also has a communication office that can these days speak directly to his constituency. He doesn’t need the media right now.

That’s the same thing I’ve been saying about athletic departments for four years now, by the way. If you have a devoted following and the tools to go directly to them, sans filter, you’re going to take advantage of that opportunity. The journalists tasked with covering that particular beat are going to be marginalized.

I don’t like it. (It is fraught with danger.) I just see it.

Peektures. Margaret Thatcher came to Samford during the university’s 150th anniversary. She’s here with then-president Thomas Corts.

A picture of former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, visiting Samford in 1992 for our 150th Anniversary. twitter.com/SamfordU/statu…

— Samford University (@SamfordU) April 8, 2013

They are standing in front of the library and Dr. Corts appears to be point out some feature of the administration building, Samford Hall.

I wonder what she was thinking.

How did we get into space and the moon? Really big ladders, of course. And, also, a tall chalkboard.

cycling / Monday / Samford / site — Comments Off
1
Apr 13

A new thing

I have been playing with code. This will be a fun format for the occasional piece.

Here are the fruits of both my bike ride, figuring this out while I was struggling up a hill and taking pictures. I could talk about it, but it is all in the new Big Stories section.

I won’t use that often, but it does have some nice flexibility and really lends itself to long form essays. I like it. Seems to work well on the phone, too. What do you think?

I could write about other things, but aside from doing some work, watering a plant, riding my bike, taking those pictures, editing them and building that and doing some more work … well, that’s been pretty much my day.

Plus there are several words on the Big Stories page. Check it out.

cycling / food / Monday / movies / music / Samford / Tumblr / Twitter / video — Comments Off
25
Mar 13

Ode to flashmobs

We have half the grapes that we started the day with. And one less navel orange. Also, the leftover spaghetti from last night disappeared. And then I was full for about an hour. But white grapes only last so long and I had to talk myself out of an extra lunch. Miles on the bike speed up the metabolism, or so I tell myself, and I want to eat everything.

Strange since my energy was all over the place yesterday. I chased The Yankee around town, counting my second, third and fourth wind. These things should be more predictable, but yesterday I was left amazed at how I couldn’t find my legs to get over this hill, but soft-pedaled over the next one, with my legs feeling bored with it all. The body is an amazing thing, and a body on a bicycle is a curious miracle, all balance and whirring and swaying and moving forward. I’m not a good cyclist. Usually I do well just to stay upright. Balance and whirring and all that. At my best moments I’m either trying to make nice little circles with my feet or, if I’ve given up on that, I just try to make it all look casual. That’s also impossible.

But, 30 more miles yesterday, and I really need to start putting more miles back in. We got home just as the wind picked up. She’d forecast the afternoon perfectly. Meteorologists call her for input, or they should.

And now back to work today, the cold week of spring break is over, replaced by a cold regular week.

In class today we talked about films, which means a lot of clips of special effects. One of the students found a five minute EXPLOSIONGANZA of CGI that just melted everyone’s brains. Oh, for a few scenes of expository. Or even a Stallone quote.

When they talk about film they also talk about awards, which everyone loves except me, apparently. I’m fine with it. I did enjoy the Oscars poster someone showed off. It had the statue in the foreground surrounded by floating lines from memorable award winners. I saw this famous line and thought about adding in some running commentary — we’d recently talked about civil rights, the 50th anniversary of various events in Birmingham and across the south, how critical a time that was and how there is such a great museum just over the mountain — so bringing up In the Heat of the Night would have been perfect.

I decided against it. I’m not sure kids born in the 1990s would understand 1960s Mississippi and why all of this was so important. Even the television show was off the air by the time my oldest student was born. Sidney Poitier, though, he just gives you more every time you watch that quiet moment.

Everyone always remembers this, perhaps a cinematic first:

They filmed most of In the Heat of the Night in Illinois because of conditions in Mississippi. The country’s come a long way in those two generations.

There are two new things on Tumblr today. One is here. This is the other one.

I call that Tumblr page “Extra stuff in an extra place.” That is, perhaps, the most apt thing I’ve ever written.

And, finally, I’ve watched this twice now. It will be the best five minutes of your day on the web.

If you’ve never read the Wikipedia entry on Ode to Joy, you should.

Back to work for me, have a lovely evening you. See you tomorrow, when there will be more on Tumblr, more here, always more on Twitter, another Glomerata and who knows what else we can find.

adventures / family / food / Monday / photo — Comments Off
18
Mar 13

Try the cookie butter

Before we took the in-laws back to the airport we visited Lonestar for lunch, where we had the waitress who tries hard to put every other waitstaff who’s tried to hard to shame. And she did. Everything was delicious and amazing, mostly because she loved it. And you’d have thought she’d been there three days after about 18 months out of work and just happy with the prospect of getting the bills paid and maybe a little take-home sirloin at the end of it all, but she said she’s been there a year.

So the orders come and go and the bread comes and then the lunch comes, because that’s the order of things. More bread is delivered. She visits the table to ask about the food, as all discerning waitstaff will do. She did it a little too fast, though, so I could only assume that my unrolling of the silverware was superlative in every way. She asked my father-in-law about his steak — as he was going to be traveling the bulk of the day lunch was key — and he was ready to emotionally invest himself in his potato, but now the question was just out there.

So he had to go to the steak. The waitress, meanwhile, did something maybe you aren’t supposed to do, I don’t know, but it seemed odd. She leaned both hands on the table, which felt wrong considering our food was now here. And she really wanted him to try his steak. Try the steak!

And for some reason all I could think of was “NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition! Amongst our weaponry are fear, surprise, ruthless efficiency, an almost fanatical devotion to steak!”

He obliged her and pronounced it delicious. She concurred, which just made you wonder about what was truly going on in the kitchen. She said it was the bone that made it good, which isn’t exactly true, but everything was so amazing and delicious and wonderful and the textures of everything was so perfectly green or yellow or whatever. She must have been on ecstasy. That’s what I’m going with. She needed more tables and less pills.

So we had lunch, the folks packed up and we set out for the airport at a time that would allow them the generally desired two hours of people watching on Terminal C. I missed how we arrived at this necessity, but someone back-timed it, allowed for the time zone and we had our jump off point. We missed it by eight minutes. And we still had to get gas and drive the necessary 99 miles to the airport.

We arrived at the airport precisely seven minutes behind schedule, my mother-in-law promising a summary of their travel segments in a post-flight report. The sign at security said 10-20 minutes, which was cutting into the people watching time. We stood and watched them sail without incident through the first part of the security theater. It seems that they both possess driver’s licenses that match the names on their boarding passes.

We turned and left the airport, dodging rain drops and trying to decide what to do now that it was raining and rush hour. There is a Trader Joe’s nearby. The Yankee said she could get some things, but the rain, and rush hour and I said I’d never been to Trader Joe’s, so that sealed the deal.

And amid the dusky rain and the finally coiffed and intensely decorated people of midtown I had my first Trader Joe’s experience. These are some of my notes.

Some things never change, no matter the store, no matter how high-end, culturally adaptable and politically fashionable the target audience. Every store, everywhere, occasionally gets a guy in camo cargo shorts and a white t-shirt. And, also, traffic jams full of people oblivious to everything around them. That sounds catty, but I found it to be a relief. Also, you might note in the background, unisex restrooms. That’s just a grocery store bridge too far:

Brand diminution. I’ve been here four minutes and already I’m not sure what store I’m in. The name seems to change with every vaguely international flavor. And the labeling is already slipping from the precious to the universally childlike. This is a fine enough place, but this box strikes me as the thing that will end up in all future image searches of “Graphic design in the 2000-teens.”

I don’t know about you, but my great-grandfather and his son after him ate these wafer snacks, they were usually pink or this mild orange color and looked a lot like this. It made me think of them and smile, and then wonder if they were feeding me natural vegetable cellulose as a child. And what of the unnatural vegetable cellulose? Don’t those guys have a union? Where are they?

I am now kicking myself for not spinning this container around to see exactly what it is made of. I know better, I know better, I know better. And the Trader Joe’s site isn’t helping either. Someone please go check this out and let me know.

The logical conclusion of the popularity of someecards.com:

A bit more from the line art characters that provide us with the retro-neo-post modern pop art ideals that so blithely inform our generation. Post-consumer content, a phrase surely designed to rip all of the joy out of the language, is a product made from from waste that’s been used by a consumer, disposed of, and diverted from landfills. Now go wipe your child’s face:

Game changer: Trader Joe’s bathroom tissue. Is it that the one guy has a passing Rooseveltian resemblance or that the other guy needs some of this stuff – and right now?

At least they take their cornbread seriously.

So Trader Joe’s, interesting packaging, clever names on many of the items. The vast majority of their inventory was marketed as their own product, which probably makes someone checking out at register three think there is actually a Joe somewhere, who perhaps engaged in some fair trade for post-consumer manure to fertilize his humble fields to bring this product to you. The biggest move away from the Trader Joe’s brand was on the beer and wine aisle.

I felt healthier just being there. We purchased several bags of things, none of the items pictured here, and The Yankee pronounced them as good deals. We shop smart like that, cherry picking all of the best products from the most economical places we can conveniently access. The airport tripped helped with that today.

And, then, of course, we waited out the better part of a meteorological deluge. The in-laws plane was delayed, and delayed again. There was a missing flight attendant, presumably whisked away to Oz. There was a search for another one. And also an inspection of their plane for hail damage, because that’s what you do when there is hail.

As we were about at the point of passing the airport to head for home the flight was canceled. We thought briefly we might be picking them up and taking them back home for the night. They found another flight, which was still somehow short a flight attendant. (Perhaps if they consolidated crews … )

This plane, much later, was also canceled for reasons that we haven’t learned. What was supposed to be an 8 p.m. arrival at their home airport began to look like spending a night in the Atlanta airport. We found this unacceptable. Two flights canceled underneath you, you are not struggling through an evening on Terminal C at Hartsfield. We will return to the airport!

This was politely refused.

OK, fine. We will book you a stay at an airport hotel. The Yankee did the reservations, coached them to the shuttle and they arrived there to find they’ll have a flight out first thing in the morning and the last room of the night.

That’s timing. This was all done, of course, by a series of phone calls and a few searches on an international network of computers and resolved in short order. A nice man in a large passenger van took them to a hotel they’d never heard of on a side of town they’d never visited and got them safely to a room. We did this from our house after a long stay at an all-natural, organic, feel-better-about-yourself grocery store, insulating our frozen purchases in a special bag made with space material and driving home, dodging trees felled by straight line winds in the relative comfort and safety of a marvelous piece of Japanese engineering that was assembled in the U.S. and Canada. It is an amazing world.

We celebrated with Chick-fil-A, which will let you order online from your particular store, but insists you call personally to obtain their hours, so we still have a way to go.

Oh, at Trader Joe’s we bought something called Cookie Butter. You should look into it. You’re welcome.