Books, Newspapers, and Blogs

So I'm back from vacation, and looking over my poor ol' blog. Thing looks dehydrated; sort of like my lawn, but not quite as desolate. The comments have predictably dried up over the last couple of weeks because there's been nothing talked about here that would set off another flame war (like I've ever really had one of those).

Thus the Woundup looks stagnant. Unused. Somehow lacking. It doesn't have that hectic look of multiple posts in an hour, especially within minutes of the latest John Kerry gaffe ("We have 60 votes!"). It has the feel of an old English manor that's been boarded up because its lord can't keep up the utility costs and has draped sheets over all the furniture.

[/Lileksian Moment]

Upon my return to "civilization" (I am, after all, a red-state boy living in a blue-state world), I hastened my way through the news feeds to see what on earth the mind-shattering news of the day would be. The winner?

Harry Potter.

Killings in Iraq? Sure. Political shenanigans in Congress? Check. Unrest in Sandusky, Ohio? Thanks, Dave Barry. But the number one news item so far as my pitiable research can determine is HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS IS OR ISN'T BEING LEAKED THREE DAYS PRIOR TO ITS OFFICIAL RELEASE DATE, WHICH IS (DID WE MENTION?) ONLY THREE DAYS AWAY!

Well, gee, thanks for that. I'd allowed myself to forget that we had pre-ordered our copy back a few months ago and that we will likely be waiting by our front door, breathlessly listening for some noise that sounds like a box from Amazon.com® being dropped on our front porch as if we were with the Resistance and the wireless was just announcing the landing of the Marines at Normandy.

Or not.

Truth is, we've been feverishly reading Book Six out loud throughout our vacation and into this week, in the vain hope of finishing it before Book Seven turns up. We will, of course, cease to live on Saturday and will be cloistered in our living room as Daddy cranks up his multiple voices (and bags of throat lozenges) to read Book Seven from cover to cover, resisting all the while the urge to TURN TO THE LAST BLAMED CHAPTER AND FIND OUT WHO, FOR PETE'S SAKE, DIED. I mean, the entire time I was reading Book Six two years ago, it killed me not to be able to sneak a peek at the last chapter for fear that Mrs. Woody would decapitate me, or at least censure me severely. When we got to the scene where [WARNING: SPOILER ALERT IF YOU'RE ONE OF THREE ESTIMATED PEOPLE WHO HAVEN'T YET READ BOOK SIX] Snape sends Dumbledore to his own portrait on the Headmaster's wall, I knew about it three sentences before anyone else in my family! And what's more, I was proud of that.

Anyway, Mrs. Woody really wants to finish Book Six one more time before we embark on Harry's last adventure. She hasn't read that one since it first came out, and her memory of certain key features of the book is decidedly rusty. I myself had finished it just a week or so prior to our vacation, but volunteered to read it out loud as Mrs. Woody really, really likes it when I do. However, she may have to finish it on her own if she wants it done before Saturday, as reading it out loud takes considerably more time than simply reading it to yourself.

So, given my confessed love of the Potter series, I was heartened to learn that the publishing industry — the book portion, anyway — seem rather optimistic about life post-Harry.

I say this because (and it's a disease that runs deep in my extended family) I love a good book. Always have, always will. When no other form of entertainment can capture my imagination, a good book will always come to the rescue. I just read "The Da Vinci Code" again for, what, the fifth time in the past several months. Not because I believe one word of it, but rather because it's a well-crafted yarn and I simply enjoy it. Same with "Red Storm Rising" by Clancy. It's wordy, but it's plausible, and I enjoy reading it. I have been this way since my own Dad first gave me a copy of "Tom Sawyer" to read one year on vacation. While growing up I even enjoyed reading books that had holes in the spines where my little brother (a real corker in those days) shot them full of BBs, which, we understand now, is a crime worthy of death in the form of listening to one of Joe Biden's plagiarized speeches.

This got me to thinking about the similarities and, especially, the differences between the various forms of media that I peruse on a regular basis. Books are my drop-dead faves. I enjoy reading them. I enjoy owning them. It gives me no small comfort to be surrounded by them in my home. I imagine myself as the Lord of my own manor, sitting in my expansive library and selecting from one of the ancient masters to satisfy my thirst for knowledge. (Clancy satisfies a thirst for knowledge?? Hardly; but, hey, it's my metaphor.)

Compare this with modern newspapers. Years ago I bought a coffee-table book that contained over 100 years of Los Angeles Times front pages. They offered fascinating snapshots in time, weaving the history of the City of the Angels with earth-shattering events that have shaped the course of modern history. For many, many years that was precisely how I viewed newspapers. Snapshots in time. Living history.

Not anymore. Nowadays, a newspaper in my house is destined for one thing, and one thing only: packing material. Otherwise, it's destined for the recycling bin. Assuming, of course, it makes it into my house at all. The modern newspaper has become a shill for whatever political philosophies its editors find most endearing, and they have tried to create their own version of the Bully Pulpit to ram those views down our collective throats. I don't like that, and I refuse now to have them in my house. Yes, I occasionally miss locally significant news or events that way. But on balance, I find that I no longer care. I'm getting along quite nicely without them cluttering my home.

Then there are blogs. Or, really, any electronic medium that carries news stories to my curious mind. Oddly enough, those same papers that I just figuratively trashed contribute to my amassed base of knowledge every time I browse through the news readers and aggregators scattered throughout the web. Often times, of course, I am merely incensed by what those liberal fish-wrappers are spouting. But they can occasionally enlighten, when they put their minds to the task. For the rest, I rely on the judgement of people I have found throughout the Blogosphere whose opinions I have come to trust and who seem to do a fine job of filtering whatever blather the traditional media crank out.

But such knowledge is fleeting, even temporary, compared with books. Books are tangible, generally permanent containers of someone's perceived wisdom. And while some might argue that newspapers can also be permanent, who, really, keeps a library of them to be perused years down the road? Libraries? Newspapermen? Probably. Ordinary citizens like me? Not a chance.

So I celebrate the arrival of Harry Potter's final book. It will not, as some industry "insiders" seem to fear, be the last book I ever purchase. Shucks, industry insiders who harbor those kinds of fears have never met my brother. He alone will send certain publishers into retirement with very comfortable pensions.

When I retire, on the other hand, I'll probably do so with a chair, a comfortable quiet moment with my sweetheart, and a good book.

Dang It

I despise having to agree with someone whom I consider to have intelligence on a scale ranking between carbon atoms and paramecia. In this case, Howard Dean (one of the most useless suit-stuffers in this country today) actually says a few things about media coverage of politics and politicians with which I agree.

Not that I'm getting soft on ol' Howard the Duck.

He was responding to a query by a banker who was attending a Mortgage Bankers Association conference. (Pardon me whilst I attempt to imagine anything more desperately dull than a Mortgage Bankers Association conference.) This banker was frustrated with candidates who "only talk in sound bites."

"I suggest you have candidates in to meetings like this and bar the press," Dean said.

Which sounds great, but significantly reduces the possibility that I'd ever hear whether the candidates said anything of which I need to be aware. Still, Dean summarizes the primary difficulty with modern media this way:

"The media has been reduced to info-tainment," Dean said. "Info-tainment sells, the problem is they reach the lowest common denominator instead of forcing a little education down our throats, which we are probably in need of from time to time."

I guess I blame the whole thing on our reduced attention spans.

"Info-tainment" (as with "edu-tainment") is a double-edged sword. Our time is precious to us as consumers; we feel a need to digest things quickly, make more snap decisions. In business we are constantly under pressure to do more, faster, with fewer resources (read: headcount) than ever before. My email inbox at work is my haunting spectre; it reminds me of all the demands on my time and attention.

Modern media has rushed to fill available time by shrinking itself into bite-sized chunks that we obviously can digest more quickly, but is rather light on caloric content. In other words, as with a certain brand of "light beer" (of which I, personally, have absolutely no knowledge!), it may taste great, but it's less filling. And that's not necessarily a good thing.

Oh, we try. We bloggers delude ourselves into thinking we're providing the bridge between a jaded ADD public and increasingly heavy political and social commentary. But mostly we just point to some other guy (or gal) and say, "Hey, look at what he (or she) said! Go read that!"

Along the way we attempt to provide our own analysis of the issues that most concern us, but in the end, we all turn to Fox, CNN, or even Tiffany to tell us what the flamin' candidates are up to today. Have they embarrassed themselves? Have they made tremendous strides in the looming issues of presidential hair grooming? Or are they trying to re-invent themselves by learning second languages?

Then we harumph at the obvious bias with which the network serves up our desired sound bites, and start the process all over again. We are hopelessly addicted.

Of course, Dean has been on the receiving end of some rather unfavorable press himself on occasion:

Dean said politicians live in fear that their words will be twisted for the sake of headlines.

"Politicians are incredibly careful not to say anything if they can possibly help it, except if it is exactly scripted. And if you want to hear anybody's true views, you cannot do it in the same room as the press," Dean said. "If you want to hear the truth from them, you have to exclude the press."

But, of course, you really can't.

For one thing, the Mortgage Bankers Association is so desperate to have someone — anyone — notice them, that they have to invite the press to report that Howard Dean, Lord High Democrat, came to speak with them. I guess you're likely to be desperate if you're willing to publicize that.

On the other hand, do we really want our candidates being too careful with what they say? Isn't that, after all, how Howard found himself as a former candidate for President of the United States?

I guess, to that extent, I'm forced to agree with Howard. We need our candidates to be able to speak their unscripted minds from time to time. There's always time for another scripted speech somewhere or other, but those candid shots are worth far more than a thousand words.

Right, Howard?

Attention, CBS Executives!

In case you were wondering about Katie-Poo's tanked ratings, we gotcher reason right here.

Save yourselves some money, guys. Kill the telecast and hire Huffington Post to podcast your news. You'll be wealthier, and we'll quit accusing you of having "liberal bias" in your so-called news organization. Can't allege you to have done something if you've already been convicted, right?

Yeesh.