Saturday, January 03, 2004

Thursday, January 01, 2004

BLOGS: "idea farm" for the established media.

USATODAY.com - Freewheeling 'bloggers' are rewriting rules of journalism: "an 'idea farm' for the established media."

Political consultants, pundits, political columnists, political satirists, merlins, advisors, saints, prophets, pampleteers, and mudslingers alike are inhabiting and enlivening the journalistic forebrain... once a domain held by paid apologists and other sell-outs.
Not so anymore!
Bloggers have carpayed the blogospheric diem, and the brain-drain from traditional media organs is all but complete.

Just look at the current state of radio to catch a glimpse of how bad the situation has become in the Old Order.

Well...they dropped the ball. They became a bunch of lame Jayson Blairs, only lacking his boldness, though sharing his acceptance of lies for money.

Bloggers rarely get paid. We write because we love to write, and/or desire to be responsible stewards and expose what is wrong...as well as what is good.

This has vitality, urgency, elan. With no boss breathing down your neck, and censors ringing their bells of disapproval, the blogger gets to be a grown-up, lacking a whip or money to motivate her or him.

Long live free expression!
May the communication revolution continue to evolve democracy like edict never could.

Write!

Tuesday, December 30, 2003

The King of Hearts is Dead!


Alan Bates as King of Hearts
The King of Hearts is Dead

Two shining lights went out this week, and the the great Stage of Life on which we unfurl our vague operas reflects less brilliant hues without them. Hope Lange was beloved by all who saw her, as she seemed to perfect mom, wife, friend and sister. But Alan Bates was eccentric, and not nearly so easy to define. I would suggest that he was, indeed, the King of Hearts...and as such probably felt that this warring world was not as good as an asylum, and thus checked out of this world, and into that asylum in the sky...where angels dance and sing their highest play, without the dread thump of marching boots.

I will miss our beloved king. May he rest in Peace. And may another King of Hearts come and rescue us from the mean masters who keep the players in uniform.

Life is fractal. Abhors a straight line.