I’ve got a new Think Again column, “Triangle at 100: Back to the Future?” The 100th anniversary of the fire is today and the column is here.
My new Nation column called “Happy Birthday, Rupert Murdoch!” and it’s here.
My Daily Beast column is called something like “Stop Taking Michelle Bachmann Seriously” and that’s here.
And my Moment column is called “A Cautionary Tale” but it could be called “One more whack at the Marty Peretz mole” and it’s here.
I have to say I’m a little embarrassed to admit how unfamiliar I was with the oeuvre of Dave Frishberg, now that I’ve had the opportunity to educate myself a bit. I went to the Oak Room the other night because I have a thing for Jessica Molaskey. And she did not disappoint. But she stepped aside for much of the show and allowed Mr. Frishberg’s lyrics to shine under his own quiet, unadorned delivery and elegant piano playing. The show was called, “Do You Miss New York?,”—as clearly the 77 (or so) year old Portland native had many highlights. There’s the title song: "Were those halcyon days/ Just a phase you outgrew? Do you miss the thrills, the subways, the shlepping/ Is it still second nature to watch where you are stepping?" And my favorite, aside from the clever opener was “My Attorney Bernie,” which Jessica sang and a wonderfully clever, updated version of “I’m Hip,” whose music was by written music by Bob Dorough and was originally recorded by the late Blossom Dearie. And I’m sure she felt lucky to have it. This odd, but immensely enjoyable couple will be at the Algonguin’s Oak Room through April 2. There are a lot worse ways to spend a great deal of money.
Now here’s Reed:
No Cheering in the Press Box
There’s a longstanding journalistic trope—most often associated with sportswriting—that speaks to objective role the media is supposed to play in covering any event: there is no cheering in the press box. It’s a message that is simple, clear-cut—don’t become beholden to the subjects you’re covering. But when it comes to actually executing this perfect poise of neutrality, well…I can’t speak intelligently about the personal proclivities of every member of the media in the country, but I do know this for sure, they’re all human.
I was reminded of the uncomfortable intersection of human frailty and media ethics on Tuesday when I came across this excellent piece from Sports Illustrated’s Joe Posnaski. One of the best journalists and writers working today—and that’s on any beat, anywhere—Posnanski expertly weaves his own personal struggles into an essay about those of Rulon Gardner, whom he covered during one of the greatest Olympic upsets in history—Gardner’s incredible victory over the Russian Greco-roman wrestler Alexander Karelin at the 2000 Summer Games in Sydney.