Category: Blog Post

  • Sightings (or Listenings)

    If you missed us on MPR this morning, you could probably catch us in their audio archives.

    One thing we wanted to talk about, when we were on the topic of media credibility, was this: This morning, the Strib broke the news early that undercover officer Gerald Vick was legally drunk (well, he was loaded, actually) when he was murdered last week. Naturally, an undercover cop can’t sit around drinking O’Doul’s if he’s trying to establish credibility. The terrible irony here is that, as any beat cop will be glad to tell you, around 90 percent of the people they deal with on a regular basis as a part of doing their jobs have serious alcohol issues. The vast majority of street-level crimes are committed by people under the influence of one intoxicant or another.

    But what we wanted to dwell on for a few moments was the almost certain backlash that will come at the Strib for publishing this nasty bit of posthumous dirt. Our point of view is that it is most certainly legitimate news, and touches on broader issues of interest to the general public. But it can’t make the Strib or its reporters look very good, aspersing the good name of an honored cop so immediately in the wake of Vick’s, er, wake.

    And we are reminded, again, of Ombud Kate Parry’s somewhat pandering approach to the idea of better serving readers–that is, “building trust” among new readerships. The fact is that the truth is very frequently an unpopular commodity, and one of the reasons the public assumes journalists are unethical cretins, whereas the truth is just the opposite, generally speaking. We think reporting hard truths is valuable to the community–it’s what newspapers are supposed to do. But we wonder what Kate Parry will make of the inevitable flood of mail accusing the Strib of urinating on the grave of a public hero. Will she read this as successfully “building trust” and “servicing” the Strib’s beloved readership? We think this is what is normally referred to as a “good teaching moment,” and we’re sure she’ll rise to the occasion.

  • Rain Delay

    It’s been a damn fine day here in the Twin Cities. Cold rain and temperatures forty degrees below normal. A perfect day for an indoor baseball game, in other words, or for hunkering down on the couch to watch the Twins playing somewhere better else.

    No such luck, which means we have an extra twenty-four hours to gargle Mountain Dew and attempt to rinse the lousy taste of yesterday’s game out of our mouths before the Rangers come to town. There’s nothing worse than an ugly game against an ugly pitcher, and yesterday’s 7-4 loss to the Orioles and Sidney Ponson more than fit the bill on both counts. After already seeing Ponson, Bartolo Colon, and C.C. Sabathia, the Twins just need to face Randy Johnson and David Wells to complete their tour of the American League’s All-Ugly rotation.

    The Baltimore series was disappointing on a lot of fronts. The pitching match-ups going in couldn’t have been more promising for the Twins, with Silva, Radke, and Santana all taking a turn. Those eye-popping control numbers for Minnesota’s staff are starting to catch up to them, though, with opposing teams taking a very aggressive approach in the early going. The Twins coaches have always preached the importance of strike one, and both Radke and Santana have long been in the habit of pounding fastballs in the strike zone in the early going, and early in the count, in an attempt at getting ahead in the count. The scouts have obviously noticed, and now it’s time for the Twins to make their own adjustments.

    When an opposing team makes three errors at the major league level you really need to make them pay for those mistakes, but the Twins just haven’t been able to capitalize. The bottom of the order continues to be a train wreck. Yesterday the one through five hitters were a combined seven-for-eighteen; the other four guys (and pinch hitter Matthew LeCroy, batting in the eight spot) went 0-13.

    The other thing I’ve noticed lately is that with Torii Hunter struggling teams can pitch very carefully to Justin Morneau, and he’s not going to see a lot of balls to drive until Hunter starts hitting consistently and taking a more patient approach at the plate.

    I’ve also decided that J.C. Romero is virtually worthless unless he starts an inning with the bases empty. He’s got a bit of LaTroy Hawkins syndrome going on the last couple years. Consider that opposing hitters are batting .231 against Romero with the bases empty (over twenty-six at-bats), with a respectable .333 on base percentage. They’re actually hitting worse with runners in scoring position (.091, if you’d care to believe that), but thanks to Romero’s apparent case of the yips the opposing OBP in those same situations is .412. That’s almost hard to fathom, yet between the walks (five BB and one K w/runners in scoring position) and his penchant for uncorking wild pitches at the most inopportune times, Romero’s simply not a guy who can be trusted with inherited runners. So far this year he’s averaging 6.28 walks per nine innings, which is the worst ratio on the staff by a huge margin.

  • Brave New World

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    I’ll burn this life down and climb on a plane for Iceland. My new life might be waiting for me there. Or I might pack my bags and light out for a village in Peru. Maybe I’ll head to Boise. That might be the place of answers and inspiration.

    Or, no, I’ll go someplace warm where there are palm trees and I can live right around the corner from a 7-11 and a tattoo parlor. Every morning I’ll walk over to the 7-11 in my flip-flops for a Big Gulp, a chili dog, and a game of pinball, and then I’ll go up the street to get some more ink drilled into my flesh. I’ll have a map of the world tattooed around the circumference of my torso, just like a globe, very detailed and colorful, complete with ornate compass roses and the whole fucking works.

    I’ll never wear a shirt if I can help it. I’m thinking there’ll be a driving range or a batting cage somewhere in the vicinity where I can go every afternoon and hit balls until my hands bleed. I’ll become a fucking hitting machine. There for damn sure will be a barbecue joint in the neighborhood, and a bar with a decent jukebox. I’m thinking this might be Tempe, maybe, or Orlando.

    I’ve got nothing against living in a trailer, just so long as I can have a dog and people leave me the fuck alone. I don’t give a rat’s ass if I never look at a television again in my life. At night I’ll work on my screenplay, and when I turn out the lights I’ll stretch out on the bed and gently trace with my fingers all my broken dreams across the continents and deserts and oceans of my body.

  • A Happy, Active Retirement

    Tim McGuire, ever the genteel former editor of the Star Tribune, weighs in today from the chitlins circuit of academic punditry with yet another defense of the newspaper industry’s prospects for the future. (Yes, officially everyone now has had his or her say; no, newspapers will not die. They have survived TV, radio, telephones, palm pilots, fax machines, XY-Write, sliced bread, the internal combustion engine, homebrewing, and even the internet. We expect they’ll survive a while longer. For the record, we think Tim is basically right about one salient fact–newspapers still enjoy massive profit margins, and they should stop whining about doing what any other industry would do–reinvest some of that margin into evolving the product. Our approach would be to hire more and better reporters and expand the breadth and depth of–ready for this?–the reporting.) We only met McGuire once, and merely noticed that he is a snappy dresser. We also noticed that he spent much of his career trying to evolve the newspaper to his own somewhat quirky specss–if we recall correctly, wasn’t he the guy who reorganized the newsroom into “teams,” installed mood-enhancing medititative bubblers, and implemented a pro-active plan to stop using Native American names for professional sports teams? These sorts of “investments” in the future of newspapering seemed alike a good idea at the time, but most would say they are now safely obsoleted in the past.

  • Monkeys in Montecello, Rats in Rome

    If we needed more evidence that the religious right’s nincompoops are profoundly dangerous, here you go.

    It seems they are right here in Minnesota, intimidating weak-kneed school administrators into preventing the introduction of the idea of evolution in Montecello.

    St. Paul author Lisa Westberg Peters has written a book for children called “Our Family Tree” which explains evolution in a juvenile, yet scientific, sort of way. Although she was scheduled to speak at a Montecello elementary school about writing, rather than evolution, the school administrators asked her to make sure she stuck just to writing and leave off mention of evolution. When she refused, Peters’ visit to the school was cancelled.

    Brad Sanderson, principal at the elementary school, was quoted in the Strib as saying, “It’s a cute book. There’s nothing wrong with it. We just don’t need that kind of debate.” Yup, the last thing we’d want in a school is a debate, especially when there’s religious clap trap to be crammed down the throats of our children.

    Now, in fairness to Principal Skinner–I mean Sanderson–he’s probably afraid of the pitchfork and torch crowd that could undoubtedly be whipped up in Montecello if a public school were to actually teach science instead of dogma and were actually to stand up for the American values of free speech and enlightened education instead of the censorious crap dished out in the name of God.

    In other religious news, as if the Catholics needed more problems, Pope Ratzinger has opened up a can of Inquisition whup-ass on the intellectual organ of the American church, the Jesuit magazine America. The editor of America, Father Thomas Reese, S.J. was fired on the orders of Ratzinger because the magazine provided a forum for discussion of church positions on controversial issues such as denying communion to John Kerry or use of condoms in AIDS-riddled Africa.

    I was told recently by a man who knows that Ratzinger’s election was greeted with less than wild enthusiasm by the Benedictine monks at St. Johns. It must have been particulary galling to them when the head of the Inquisition took the name of the founder of their order–the order which over the centuries has taken primary responsibility for the preservation of western intellectual history.

    Alongside this formidable Benedictine tradition stand the Jesuits, who are the church’s foremost educators and intellectuals today, and who run Boston College, Georgetown, Fordham, Creighton and many other first rate universities throughout America and the world. Both orders are steeped in their vows of obedience, but to the Benedictines and Jesuits I know (and I’ve known a lot of Jesuits in particular) that obedience usually takes the form of obedience to their own tradition of intellectual inquiry and open mindedness. It was a sad day for a lot of Catholics when Ratzinger was elected Pope. I’m afraid it will be even sadder for the many thoughful men of God whose intellectual lives will be proscribed by this maledictory Benedict.

  • Long Odds

    John Tierney’s op-ed earlier this week suggested that news organizations are playing into the hands of terrorists by reporting, or at least overreporting and sensationalizing, their terrorist acts. We’ve been saying the same thing for months now. It’s not a comfortable thing to say—that too much information is a bad thing—but we must acknowledge that terror is the only weapon terrorists have, and the modern mass media is the only delivery vehicle they have, in their efforts to affect real change (or chaos).

    More important, Tierney touches very briefly on the real problem with reporting these sorts of things. It is one thing to help cultivate the fear that is the goal of these murderers, it is another to help them in the process of recruiting even more to their ranks.

    By way of example, Tierney mentions how Rudy Giuliani manipulated the press during his tenure as mayor—Giuliani ordered police officials to stop meeting news deadlines in press conferences and press releases. This had the palliative effect of helping New Yorkers believe their city was not quite as dangerous as the local news seemed to be portraying it every night. In some senses, one could argue that he was helping the public “get real” about the negligable odds of being victimized on the mean streets of Manhattan. Needless to say, New York actually became a safer place during that time, and crime decreased dramatically (or at least it was displaced to the borroughs—that’s the standard, mandatory line for liberal Rudy-hating city-dwellers, anyway).

    This all connects opaquely but directly with Malcolm Gladwell’s “The Tipping Point.” Recall that Gladwell discussed the “broken window” theory of crime under Giuliani (which has since been adapted in almost every major city in the nation); he also discussed suicide cults in Southeast Asia. Suicide, as extreme as it is, can be a fad just as virulent as Hushpuppies or Urban Vinyls.

    The point is that media coverage of terrorist acts, particularly suicide bombings, helps sustain the cult of suicide among Islamic fundamentalists. One thing non-Islamic westerners cannot understand is this apparent erosion of the most fundamental human value we all assume is inherent to the species—the sanctity of human life itself, and the universal compulsion to protect our children. Islamic fundamentalists, with the help of modern media, have managed to break through that barrier, and their children are lining up to kill themselves (and anyone else they can get close to) in the service of God and dogma.

    It is probably the most frightening development in the history of human consciousness, and the media is the machine that is planting its seeds.

  • Bagel thieves

    I’m reading the book Freakonomics by a University of Chicago economics professor Steven Levitt.

    In one chapter he talks about an entrepreneur who sets up a business of selling bagels on the honor system in the offices of several companies. By analysing who pays for the bagels and who takes them without paying, Levitt draws several interesting conclusions.

    One unsurprising conclusion is that most people are honest. The payment rate in most businesses was over 90 percent.

    However, in those businesses where more than one bagel station was set up–and the stations were set in the areas occupied by top management, middle management, and the worker bees–top management types seemed to be the least honest. In other words, those with the highest positions, and presumably those making the most money, were less likely to pay for their bagels than their employees a couple of floors down.

    Surprised? If you are, I guess you haven’t been paying attention much lately. Let me give you some hints: Enron, Tyco, Adelphia, Merrill Lynch, United Air Lines, Global Crossing, Worldcom…

    Watch your bagels.

  • Finally, For Crying Out Loud

    I don’t feel like trying to figure it out, so maybe someone else can tell me: what was the last date the Twins gained a game on the White Sox? It’s been at least nine games, right?

    A long time, at any rate, considering how well the Twins have been playing. And the encouraging thing about the last couple days is that Minnesota’s pitching almost completely shut down the Devil Rays until the last few ugly innings of the last game of the series, and this was after Tampa Bay scored twenty-eight runs in sweeping the Yankees.

    And then the red hot White Sox go into Tampa Bay and lose two straight. Tonight the Rays hit just about everybody the Sox threw out there, with the exception of Damaso Marte, who almost certainly should be given the closer’s job over the shaky Takatsu. It was also especially nice to see Chicago lose a one-run game for a change, and on a walk-off homerun.

    Jose Contreras was wild as shit again tonight (big surprise, that), and has now walked twenty-one batters (while striking out thirty) in thirty-nine and two-thirds innings pitched. Despite which the guy inexplicably has a 3.18 ERA and .197 batting average against. Suggestion to opposing hitters: make the overpaid bozo throw strikes. In the couple games I’ve seen Contreras pitch this year he should have walked a minimum of ten, but guys kept going up there and flailing at stuff nowhere close to the strike zone.

    The other encouraging recent sign that the White Sox have thus far been lucky beyond reasonable expectations was Jon Garland’s lousy performance in Toronto on Saturday, in a game in which he lasted just five-and-two-thirds innings and gave up six earned runs (and still managed to pick up the victory and run his record to 6-0). The whole damn team should have headed to the nearest off-track betting parlor and laid heavy money on Giacomo.

    These are all the sorts of things that make you think maybe the genie has gone back into the bottle on the Southside. Then again, given the weirdness of those three straight up-and-down series in Tampa Bay, perhaps the Sox are just as likely to reel off another winning streak.

    One last thing
    : I’ve finally made up my mind on the ugliest player in Twins history. I should mention that I’ve decided to be sporting by limiting the pool to guys I actually had a chance to watch play, some of whose physical flaws –more chins than the Hong Kong phone book, for instance, examples of which have been so relatively common as to be disqualifying as a sole criteria– I actually had a chance to…umm, appreciate up close. I gave David West strong consideration, and would certainly rank his physical structure (or utter lack of physical structure) as among the worst in the annals of the team. David West, I can assure you, made Matthew Lecroy look like Jack La Lanne.

    The guy I finally settled on, however, is Scott Klingenbeck, a man who demonstrated every time he waddled to the mound that life is not the only thing that is nasty, brutish, and short. Check out those career numbers, by the way, and, please, somebody do the noble thing and shell out the five bucks to sponsor his Baseball Reference page.

    Perhaps you have other ideas regarding the most unsightly Twin, or an all-time unsightly Twins team. I do feel, however, that eligible candidates should represent some combination of a generally displeasing physical appearance and utter ugly incompetence on the field. But that’s just me. Maybe someone comes to mind who was just so damn ugly that you feel compelled to disqualify any and all statistical accomplishments, however rarefied. I’ll confess that I can’t bring myself to feel strongly enough about this to argue with you either way.

  • Poll Position

    In this populist age, it is always assumed that scientific polls of the public should automatically gainsay the wonks and policy-makers. The poll is the modern media’s Torah—the numbers are scripture, and everything else is commentary. The implication of today’s “Minnesota Poll” at the Star Tribune seems to be that, since most Minnesotans do not favor same-sex unions, those who do support them should stop trying to push them through.

    That is an easy assumption to make, particularly if you feel strongly about representative government’s accountability to the majority public that elected it. It is a special trick, and a great public disservice, to constantly poll people in order to record their discomfort with homosexuality. We wonder how many polls in the antebellum South (hell, the New South) would have showed a clear majority’s discomfort with the idea of free slaves.

    On the other hand, isn’t it interesting that no one around the Twin Cities dares to mention the words “stadium” and “referendum” in the same breath anymore? That’s because every poll that has ever been conducted suggests that a powerful majority of Minnesotans rejects the idea of a public contribution to a new professional sports stadium.

    It is normally called leadership, and it is how positive social change takes place over time. Despite appearances, it’s not just for billionaires.

  • Revelations, Etc.

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    Since I was a child I’ve enjoyed end-of-the-world fiction based, however irresponsibly, on Biblical prophecy. There’s always been a good deal of this sort of thing around, but of late there’s been a splashy and satisfying surfeit of the stuff, and lots of other folks have been climbing on board the Glory Train.

    I guess I’d describe the genre as solid meat-and-potatoes fare. It’s pretty entertaining for the most part, and also food for thought for those who might be so inclined.

    The end of the world has fascinated me since I first started having apocalyptic dreams and visions while in elementary school. I’ve always hoped that I’ll be alive when the world does eventually end, or at least for the clear beginning of the End Times as outlined in the Bible. Depending on your perspective, of course, I suppose you could argue that the beginning of the end is already here. I know plenty of people would like to believe that we’re living through the End Times right now, but I remain skeptical.

    Natural disasters and human atrocities have been around forever, it seems to me, and I guess I’m holding out hope for some clearer and more spectacular indication of Divine Wrath.

    As I said, when I was younger and could still occasionally get a good night’s sleep, I used to routinely have dreams about the end of the world, and delighted in recounting these visions in great detail to my mother at the breakfast table. She eventually became so alarmed by the graphic particulars of my stories that she sent me to a psychiatrist, a serious man who refused to believe my contention that these dreams constituted not nightmares, but rather supreme entertainments.