Democracy dies in darkness but who turned out the lights?

News media has been disinvesting in news reporting. It may seem perverse, but it's true. Reporting can mean a lot of money spent for accuracy and context, which is a big ask if that's not what your customers are paying for. So while you might think reporters are ubiquitous, they're more in the position of smiths who make horseshoes. The profession exists, but it's marginal. Most stories you see in the neverending news cycle are based on other stories, or nothing.

Pundits have held on quite well, though. Maybe because they tend to become recognizable brand names, which is valuable in a crowded field. But that may wind up being a case of diminishing returns, as it can be hard to tell one from another.

This story compiles a number of instances of journalists crossing over from factual reporting (to the extent they ever did that) and open advocacy. But what does it mean to take a stand when everybody takes the same stand? There's a large number of media figures who share the same opinions on what stories need to be shared and which can be swept under the rug. Pretty soon they're only talking to each other, plus a small cohort of "civilians" who agree. Which of course the voting base of the current President.

Then there are more florid examples. It's tempting to say that Siegel read the Rolling Stone "dominatrixes vs. vaccine hesitancy" story so you don't have to. But I did read it and found it painfully insipid. It's an attempt to make a familiar narrative sound new and exotic, maybe even erotic. Well, that last part really doesn't pan out.

Are “trans women of color” and “dommes” genuine authorities in America? No, but they are made into public idols that real power can hide behind. In theory, these totems of the marginalized are being “centered” by social justice movements that overturn historical power structures. In practice, the dominatrix, stripped of all authentic erotic power and allure, becomes a new kind of patriotic hero defending the civic virtues of the American middle class.

Perhaps a bit ironic, that.

Dig these hip sounds!

I can recall my introduction to Jimmy Smith, when Babs Gonzales phoned me from New York and blurted: "Hey, Brother 'B', are you hip to this organ playin' cat from Philly, named Jimmy Smith? He's a boss cat on the Hammond Organ." I would have merely listened politely, but when Babs Gonzales invested his hard-earned cash to call from New York, then I knew it was important. I immediately went over to the swingingest record shop in Chicago, the Met, and ear-checked some Jimmy Smith LP.'s.

That's Holmes Daylie, a DJ known to his listeners in Chi-town as "Daddio" Daylie, at the start of his liner notes essay for the Jimmy Smith album Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, which also has a charmingly surreal cover of Smith--dapper in his tan trench coat--holding hands with a model in a hyena(?) mask.

These kinds of liner notes--hype, but an erudite kind of hype that respects the reader/listener--seem to have been a fairly common feature to music releases at one time. A sign that the distributors were making an investment of thought as well as money. I've seen this sort of text on old LP covers and a few CD reissues. Outside of best-of collections no one seems to bother anymore. Of course sales of music in physical media have cratered, but the fall-off seems to have preceded the rise of streaming and the web by some time.

Of shadows and shoes

Something that tickles me and might tickle you as well is a shadow puppet show based on one of the stories from 1,001 Nights. One of the lesser-known tales, it must be said. But the performers show an infectious enthusiasm for the material.

The image of an unlucky angler getting a shoe or boot on their fishing line is pretty widespread, at least enough to have its own TV Tropes page. I wonder if this tale was the origin.

Out there

May have talked about this before. It's late at night, about to go to bed. There seems to be a fair amount of activity on the road. Does make one wonder where the drivers are off to. Some, surely, are police and other emergency vehicles. But not all. So some of these drivers might be going to new places and have exciting mornings ahead of them. Others could have very restful mornings planned.

Let's get into character

 I just got finished watching Once Upon a Time...In Hollywood. I actually watched the first hour of it earlier in the week. In general I don't make a habit of splitting movies into two or more nights. But this one is pretty long--about two hours plus another three quarters--and I figured I could get more out of it if I were awake for the whole thing.

More openly than he ever has before, Quentin Tarantino returns to his childhood here. The pastiches, the music, the characters drawn from media of the late 1960s. They're all things that were in the air during his formative years. Which I recognize because much of it is mine as well. He's seven years older than I am, but that's just a few rounds of syndication for a show in reruns. But yeah, the yellow TV-style closing credits give it away.

Much of it is a hangout show featuring Leonard DiCaprio's fragile prima donna actor and Brad Pitt's self-possessed stuntman/chauffeur/companion. But there's tension here, because the movie also involves the Manson family. Their presence brings part of it into the realm of thriller, if not horror. In a move that's not too surprising coming from Tarantino, the Manson matter is resolved in a different manner from actual recorded history, but it's still pretty damn gory. Anyway, the extended mid-film sequence built around Cliff's visit to the Spahn ranch is a highlight.

There's a pretty good joke built onto the end of the end credits. Hate to think how many theatregoers missed that one because they didn't stick around.

Changing methods

If you've been around this blog for a while, you might remember this post. I've remembered it, chiefly because I was able to get it down in a fairly brief amount of time. And there it is.

Which led me to think. When writing fiction there might be something to the method of writing it down as a kind of Q&A dialogue like that. Not that the story will end up in that format. It probably won't. But this experience suggested that it's a way of getting the basics of a story down before the inner critic can put up roadblocks.

Currently I'm fleshing out ideas produced in a first draft in this style. It's going...well, it's going quicker than it often does, that's for sure. Which is a good thing. I needed a change. The old process wasn't working for me.

Case of the uh-oh's

 

(Above image by Mort Walker, new text by David Maliki)

Once more the populace--or at least minor intelligentsia--is acting like the end of the world is nigh. Obviously not for the first time. Maybe not the last either. Have all the previous apocalypses made people as humorless as this one has? Don't see how it would help in any case.