The purpose-driven hissy fit

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The rumblings came from California yesterday. Now it's a full-blown snit -- this conniption fit gay-rights activists are throwing over Barack Obama's choice of the Rev. Rick Warren (an evangelical, AAAAIIIIEEEEEE!!!) to deliver the invocation at his inauguration.

FROM MSNBC today:

President-elect Barack Obama on Thursday defended his choice of a popular evangelical minister to deliver the invocation at his inauguration, rejecting criticism that it slights gays.

The selection of Pastor Rick Warren brought objections from gay rights advocates, who strongly supported Obama during the election campaign. The advocates are angry over Warren's backing of a California ballot initiative banning gay marriage. That measure was approved by voters last month.

But Obama told reporters in Chicago that America needs to "come together," even when there's disagreement on social issues. "That dialogue is part of what my campaign is all about," he said.

Obama also said he's known to be a "fierce advocate for equality" for gays and lesbians, and will remain so.

Warren, a best-selling author and leader of a Southern California megachurch, is one of a new breed of evangelicals who stress the need for action on social issues such as reducing poverty and protecting the environment, alongside traditional theological themes.

The Human Rights Campaign, the nation's largest gay rights organization, said Warren's opposition to gay marriage is a sign of intolerance.

ACTUALLY, the word I heard thrown around was "bigot." That's the label you're hung with by the agents of one-way "tolerance" if you are so gauche to believe some fundamental tenets of historical Christianity.

Or that marriage, by its nature, goes something like how it is explained in the Catechism of the Catholic Church:

"The matrimonial covenant, by which a man and a woman establish between themselves a partnership of the whole of life, is by its nature ordered toward the good of the spouses and the procreation and education of offspring; this covenant between baptized persons has been raised by Christ the Lord to the dignity of a sacrament."

THE SECULAR notion of marriage hews pretty closely to this view, not because the state is in the religion business, but because the state -- historically -- has recognized fundamental realities when it is confronted with them. To ignore fundamental realities, and basic biology and sociology, is to reap the whirlwind.

Look at the disorder in society and upheaval in individual lives already accompanying the breakdown of the model of marriage as one man, one woman, till death do them part. Now we're supposed to gladly undo even the tribute our heterosexual hypocrisy pays to the truth?

It will not end well.

But to believe what mankind has held fast for more than 5,000 years -- as does Pastor Warren, who backed California's constitutional ban on gay marriage -- is now to be labeled a bigot. Be seen as unfit to appear at the inauguration of an American president.

It is to be declared an ideological leper.

How utterly Stalinist -- both in its intolerance of dissent from an accepted party line and in its radical upheaval of tradition.

NO LONGER is "tolerance" of gays and lesbians enough. No longer is it acceptable to treat homosexuals as brothers and sisters with whom we, as Christians, take issue on one area of their lives.

To treat those with whom we differ fairly and with charity is no longer sufficient. Now we must approve. Affirm. Or else.

No, it would appear that how, with whom and in what context they achieve orgasm is how gays and lesbians define themselves -- that sexuality is the be-all and end-all of their humanity. Apparently, everyone else must so define them as well.

No.

Gays and lesbians are more than their genitalia . . . and their sexual orientation, which orthodox Christians (and, historically, society) believe to be disordered, because a family never can result from it naturally. It does not conform to the "natural law."

THAT SAID, what one does in the bedroom is his -- or her -- own damn business. Christianity hasn't gone around with firearms, torches and broadaxes yelling "resistance is futile, you will be assimilated" for a very long time now because, frankly, it didn't work out so well. Neither was it particularly Christian.

If you don't tell me what you do with your same-sex partner, I will refrain from being so classless as to speak of what goes on between my wife and myself. If you want to enter into some contractual relationship with a gay lover, conferring legal rights and privileges, fine by me.

But don't call it marriage.

Marriage never has been a purely contractual relationship, bereft of spiritual and sociological implications, and it never will be, either. So don't slur those of us who think thus -- as does the Rev. Warren -- with the word "bigot."

To do so speaks to the intolerance of the forces of "tolerance." And to try to enforce such a perverse notion of "tolerance" infringes upon the right of the many to freely practice their faith just because the few have decided to throw a hissy fit.

Then and now

This . . . is radio.

This is radio today.
Any questions?

Thoughts on a snowy day near Christmas

We tend to talk about the hard times now upon us as if they were a destructive force of nature. A financial hurricane that has come to swamp us like Katrina did to New Orleans.

AH, but it wasn't Katrina that swamped New Orleans. Katrina was a low-grade Hurricane Betsy -- at worst -- by the time she reached the Crescent City.

New Orleans drowned because people, first of all, had been encouraged to build in dumb places over the decades. And, second of all, New Orleans drowned because the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers built really, really crappy levees which they didn't improve and raise to counteract the city's slow subsidence into the primordial ooze that is the Louisiana delta. (Americans' hastening of and reluctance to ameliorate that sinking feeling is another story covered here.)

Likewise, the economic pickle we find ourselves in right now is anything but a force of nature. Strike that -- the mess we now face is a force of human nature.

Basically, we got greedy. A capital sin that goes all the way back to the Garden of Eden, when the serpent told Eve "ye shall be as gods."

ADAM AND EVE ate the apple. We, on the other hand, bought the apple on credit. From Whole Paycheck. To which we traveled in a big honkin' SUV.

Then we sat down in our McMansion to eat the forbidden fruit while watching Desperate Housewives on our HDTV.

We wanted what we couldn't afford, while business wanted more profit than it had a right to and government kept the gravy train a rollin', even when taxpayers refused to foot the true cost of the services they demanded.

OUR ECONOMY -- our insane expectations, built upon the shifting sands of avarice -- has turned out to be, pretty much, a Ponzi scheme worthy of Bernard Madoff , and we have no idea how to unwind the whole thing without lots of people getting hurt really badly.

The last time our economy was this bad -- lots worse, actually -- we at least paid lip service to the kinds of values that can help a body get through a really rough patch. We at least had a culture that, more or less, reflected those values. That sensibility.

Today, we march to the poor house to a hip-hop beat, singing the praises of bitches, hos, bling, f***in' and thuggin'.

This may not go well.

WE NEED a revolution. Not like Lenin and Marx, but of the heart.

Then, perhaps, we might get some "change we can believe in."

No time for legends . . . time's up for radio

Being in radio today means never having the right answer to "What have you done for me lately?"

Even if you're a certified broadcasting giant.

ABOUT six years ago, a non-commercial station's production director and program director found themselves -- for some amorphous reason or another -- visiting the studios of Waitt Radio's Omaha operations for talks with the top brass there. I think they were supposed to get acquainted with the folks there as part of some strategic alliance.

Perhaps they were even supposed to learn something as they got the nickel tour.

As the two waited in the lobby, local radio fixture Steve Brown came breezing into the studios for his midmorning "Talk of the Town" show on news-talk KKAR. I think it would be fair to describe Brown that day as "ruddy" and a little bit rumpled.

The non-comm program director was new to town. Wouldn't have known Steve Brown if the man had run over him with a busload of KOIL "Good Guys." Didn't care who Steve Brown was.

IT DIDN'T MATTER that Steve Brown had forgotten more about radio broadcasting than this guy would ever know. No, he had his verdict, and he was sticking to it:

"How'd you like to end up like that guy?"

Interesting question. Let's see . . . end up as a legendary programmer? As an architect of some of the most successful Top-40 radio stations of the 1960s? As someone who'd recruited and mentored air personalities who went on to become household names across the nation?

Then end up as a successful local talk-show host and voiceover talent?

"That's Steve Brown," the production guy ended up telling his boss. "The guy's a legend. You could do a hell of a lot worse than ending up like him."

But that's radio for you nowadays. "Casting pearls before swine" is what legends do until they retire or die. Sadly, Steve Brown -- legend -- died Saturday at 68 while prepping for his talk show in the weekend wilderness of KFAB's program schedule, according to Radio Ink:

Brown, says radio commentator and consultant John Rook at johnrook.com, "played a major role in the early history of Top 40 radio." KOIL under his purview served as a launching pad for Top 40 stars including Gary Owens, Dave Dean, Dr. Don Rose, and The Real Don Steele (a name Brown came up with). Brown also helped in the push to get the music of The Beatles and The Beach Boys on the air.

THAT DAY AT KKAR, Brown popped out during a commercial break to excitedly show the operations manager a ratings demographic where he thought he'd registered unexpected -- and surprising -- growth. The manager nodded, and Steve got back to his show.

"Steve Brown is . . . interesting," the OM told his guests, before excusing himself to put more Christmas music into the AudioVAULT computer system.

No, Steve Brown was interested. Enthusiastic. Still . . . after four and a half decades in the business. If the visitors were there to pick the brains of the "big boys," they had gotten a hold of the wrong brains.

Brownie was the guy at whose feet you wanted to be sitting. That's not going to happen now. Steve Brown is dead.

And so, pretty much, is the industry that forgot how to appreciate his kind.

WBRH: Where mercy met grace

The damnedest thing about adolescence is that so many of us survive it.

This strange fact is a good starting point for a discussion about grace. Grace means that a lot of the really ill-considered things we do as youngsters -- Ill-considered? More like dumb . . . silly . . . perilous . . . idiotic -- end up as fodder for funny stories told by middle-aged survivors of their own youthful folly.

They also serve as fodder for middle-age worries that the young'uns we know and love will find out we once were as dumb as they, and will somehow use this Kryptonite against us.

A BUNCH of us 1979 graduates of Baton Rouge Magnet High recently have been getting reacquainted on Facebook. Facebook -- amazing thing, that. Naturally, all the old yearbook photographers have started posting yellowed pictures of our glory days.

And recently, one classmate was confronted by a picture of her underaged self at Mr. Gatti's pizza, pitcher of beer before her.

"Oh, @#$%! If my daughter sees this picture, I am toast."

Sooner or later, we all end up throwing ourselves upon the mercy of the court and wondering whether "older and wiser now" is a winning defense against capital hypocrisy charges.

Thirty years ago at Baton Rouge High, I wasn't much for boozing it up at Mr. Gatti's. I was more of a Sicily's beer person, myself.

I remember one time, a high-school radio colleague and I got bored during our WBRH class period. We were in the studios of 90.1 FM by ourselves, and at some point we developed a mighty thirst.

Well, we were on the air, so we couldn't sneak over to Sicily's, the pizza-and-beer joint just off campus. Now, we were both already 18 back when that made you legal, so we had a brilliant plan . . . we gave an underage classmate some money and sent her over to Sicily's to get us a couple of big-ass beers.

Which we proceeded to drink at the station. During class. In violation of all manner of federal and school regulations.

What could go wrong? Who would know?

Well. . . .

WE WERE ABOUT half done with our beers when we saw someone walk into the station. It was Charley Vance, who was filling in for radio teacher/WBRH general manager John Dobbs that semester.

F***.

So, my anonymous colleague -- let's call him "Bud" (his real nickname) -- and I were madly stashing our beers in studio cabinets and putting on our angelic, what-me-worry faces when Charley walked in the studio.

He sniffed the air.

"It smells like a damn brewery in here."

Busted. Dead. Going to get expelled and lose our federal Third Class operator's licenses.

WORSE, we were going to have to pour out our beer.

"Y'all better hurry up and finish your beer before Mrs. Guillot walks in." Mrs. Guillot being the principal, and someone you'd just as soon not mess with.

Mr. Vance exited stage right, an angel of mercy and a humble agent of true grace. Gratuitous, unmerited help at a moment when it all could have gone south. Very south.

I don't know where Charley Vance is today, but if somebody sees him, tell him I owe him a case of whatever fine brew he would like.

3 Chords & the Truth: There stands the glass

There stands the glass
That will ease all my pain,
That will settle my brain,
It's my first one too-tay. . . .

-- Webb Pierce, 1953

OK, what the hell is too-tay?

Was Webb snortin' in addition to drinkin'? Or was too-tay to to-day as o-tay was to okay?

Folks want to know this stuff.

AT ANY RATE, ol' Webb was doin' some serious hurtin', which obviously required some serious drinkin'. Hey, I went to LSU . . . I can do this.

(Later that day)

Why are you perspiring so loudly? Got any aspirin?

On the other hand, I forgot why I was miserable. Oh . . . wait. Damn.

While I go mix myself some bicarbonate of soda, try giving 3 Chords & the Truth a listen too-tay. We got us some drankin' songs, and some soberin' up songs, too. That, and a whole lot of other stuff that you should find as tasty as Jack on the rocks.

In moderation, one would hope. Trust me on this.

It's the Big Show, the lynchpin of the Revolution 21 universe. I think you'll love it.

Be there. Aloha.

Dumber than . . . poot

I glanced at this site, which led me to this story, which referred me back to this January story, which hit me upside the head with one of my home state's raging core crises . . . and why it's only going to abate oh-so-slowly, if at all.

Really, the original story leading to an "Oh my God" comment on it isn't important now. You probably wouldn't be interested.

Suffice it to say, the article, in the Houma (La.) Courier, was about a Catholic-school senior who got a big-time suspension for starting a Facebook group the principal didn't like. At all. And now she and her mother are making a federal case out of it.

Literally.

BUT, LIKE I SAID, that's not important now. What's important is this comment on the original story, which ran last January:

pootypants1 says...
January 26, 2008 8:36:15 am
Even public school can be rediculuse. I pulled my son out and he is home schooled now. He wasn't allowed to have a jacket cause it had one white stripe down one sleeve(rules say solid colors) Then on top of that he is diabetic and takes 9 to 12 shots a day. If his blood sugar happen to drop to low he couldn't eat his candy in class(even with doctors written oders) he was expected to walk down the hall,down the steps, and to the office where they kept his emergency pack. By the time he would get there he could be in a comma. I have home schooled him for 3 yrs now. Works for Us.
Report this post

HELLO, HOUMA COURIER? I'd like to report a post on one of your news stories.

Yes ma'am, I found that post quite "rediculuse," and if I ever again accidentally read something that leaves me laughing like a hyena at the same time I'm thoroughly mortified, the resulting confusion might send me into a "comma."

If the comment by "pootypants1" -- pootypants1??? -- was a joke, you need to find that out. Because if it wasn't, you sooooooo need to do a monthlong series on homeschooling in Louisiana, why ignoramuses are allowed to do it and how that's helping to keep your state dumber than a sack of . . . poot.

When people that illiterate (or would that be "illiderrut"?) are allowed to homeschool innocent children, it's akin to state-sanctioned child abuse. That's poor kid's future is going to be shot to hell from the get-go, and Louisiana's going to be dealing with that -- one way or another.

Kinda like doctors recommending Camels

While I've got you here, I just thought I would point out how truth is a relative thing in advertising.

ESPECIALLY back in the days of "Mad Men" and Fred Flintstone hawking Winstons.

See the little cartoon girl toting around the 16-inch "lightweight" TV set? Obviously the child is Arnold Schwarzenegger's younger sister.

I remember "lightweight" portable TVs from back in the day, all full of vacuum tubes and built like tanks. That 16-inch Emerson probably weighed 50 pounds if it weighed an ounce.

Cartoon Girl no doubt was so tuckered out from carrying that thing, she probably had to sit down and have a smoke.

When TV sets were TV sets

In 1963, you could buy an Emerson black-and-white portable TV with "a full family-size 16" picture."

I'm sorry, but everybody in 2008 knows "family-size" starts at 42 inches. And a black-and-white anything being fit for the family? Please. You obviously jest.

IN 1963, a 21-inch color console television was living high on the hog, indeed.

Wait, 21 inches? Feh, in 2008 we have a word for a 21-inch screen -- computer monitor. Good grief . . . how did people survive in 1963? What a horrible bleak existence of total deprivation.

The next thing you're going to tell me is people could only get a few channels on their pathetic little TV sets.

Oh.

Thought experiment: Was life that awful 45 years ago, or are our expectations that oversized today? Just wondering.

They spell it 'Eskimeaux'

You have no idea, since moving to Omaha two decades ago, how many times I've heard from Louisiana kin and acquaintances, "Oh, no! You can have all dat cold and snow! It too cold up there for me!"

One high-school classmate recently referred to me living in "Alaska . . . er, Nebraska."

WEYUL . . . looky at the above picture of LSU's Manship School of Mass Communications this morning (courtesy TwitPix). And read the following from The Advocate in -- heh heh heh -- snowed-in Baton Rouge:

With schools and many businesses closed this morning, area residents took to the snow-covered streets to enjoy the rare weather.

Even as snow turned to sleet, sledders and even a snowboarder slid down the rolling white hills of City Park.

On the LSU campus, seniors Kirk Melancon and Cade Worsham ran around the snow-covered campus fairgrounds with a few-dozen other students.

The two roommates started with photos and snowballs, which eventually led to full-on snow wrestling.

“I have one more exam today at 5:30,” Melancon said. “But I had to come out here today. This is a one in 15-year snow.”

Meteorologist Danielle Manning with the National Weather Service in Slidell estimated that 3 inches of snow fell in East Baton Rouge Parish, 2 inches in West Baton Rouge Parish and 5 in Livingston Parish.

The average snowfall in greater Baton Rouge is 2 to 3 inches, she said.

When Chicago native Chris Horton looked out of his Baton Rouge window this morning, the winter scene reminded him of home.

“Straight up Chicago,” he said. “I couldn’t think of anything but being in the Windy City.”

BATON ROUGE now has had more snow than Omaha so far this winter. You have nooooooo idea how funny I'm finding this.

Anybody down there need a snow shovel? I have a couple, moderately used -- $100 cheap! Each. Will FedEx for an additional $55.

It's not a stadium. It's an opportunity.

Omaha's powers that be -- after long musing about the prospect -- this year finally decided to carpe diem, build a new downtown ballpark and lock in the College World Series for a long, long time.

But now that the ink is dry on the contract and construction is almost ready to begin, it looks like city fathers have just had a "What in the world have we done?" moment and, according to the Omaha World-Herald, decided maybe they've carpe'd more diem than they can chew.

OOPS.

One thing that’s likely to be missing from the final stadium plan is a major commercial area. Though initial concept drawings included shops and a restaurant in the stadium structure, Jensen said concerns about the project’s cost and how often the public would frequent the businesses nixed the idea for now.

That change is a disappointment to Jason Kulbel, one of the developers of the Saddle Creek Records complex near 14th and Webster Streets. He said he is still holding out for a retail area near the stadium along Webster.

He said that’s essential to generating foot traffic, which is what Saddle Creek developers envisioned when they invested $10 million in the area.

“We’re hoping,” Kulbel said, adding, “I feel like we’re fighting the battle of our lives.”
Kulbel said he plans to make that case before Omaha’s urban design review board, which will review the plans at a public meeting at 3 p.m. Dec. 18. The meeting will be held in room 702 of the City-County Building, 1819 Farnam St.

The board was created in 2007 with the help of Omaha By Design to review and approve major city construction projects, thus ensuring uniform design standards. The board, which includes an architect, an engineer, a planner and a citizen representative, could ask for changes in the plans. It must sign off on the design before the city can issue building permits.

Jensen said a small amount of retail space is included in the stadium design. A store at the ballpark could sell team memorabilia, for instance.

However, in developing the final ballpark plans, Jensen said those involved determined that a stadium would be unlikely to draw retailers and feared that large commercial spaces would sit empty.

Condos and loft apartments, on the other hand, draw retailers, Jensen said.

The Metropolitan Entertainment and Convention Authority, which runs the Qwest Center, is overseeing the stadium’s design and operation.

Roger Dixon, MECA president, said the stadium plans most likely will be further tweaked before the Jan. 21 stadium groundbreaking.

“What has been filed with the city is the design at this point in time,” Dixon said.

OMAHA, I KNOW times are tough and getting tougher. And that's exactly why now is the wrong time to go all wobbly on us.

You can't have a big stadium sitting in the middle of North Downtown (NoDo), eating up real estate but generating no economic activity for most of the year. That's insane -- but with no retail and no Omaha Royals, that's what you're going to have.

The folks from Saddle Creek Records stuck their necks out to jumpstart NoDo's development and -- to mix my metaphors -- the city is about to kneecap them. This is a game where you're either all in . . . or you fold.

OK, so a full-bore retail development might not be the smartest thing at this time. But the stadium site needs some retail -- and a relocated Zesto's. Seriously . . . Zesto's. The mom and pop hamburger stand is as much a part of the CWS as cheesy organ music and overpriced bratwurst.

But what else might draw foot traffic -- and car traffic, too -- to the new ballpark year round? What might keep the NoDo momentum going in tough times?

How about this? Pick one retailer and make it a larger one. Choose a niche market that's underserved downtown, but one that's wholly compatible with the College World Series. See whether the store could be part of a comprehensive naming-rights package for the stadium.

RIGHT NOW, I'm envisioning Cabela's Stadium with a scaled-down retail store focusing on product lines not featured at the retailer's big-box stores but which could be part of its online catalog -- say one part American Eagle clone and two parts athletic and team apparel. And I'm seeing "Official merchant of the NCAA Men's College World Series."

If the deal is sweet enough, they just might put up the scratch to build it.

The other thing I'm envisioning is even more important to the economic viability of NoDo and all its retail establishments. And, on a grander scale, Omaha itself.

It's all about synergy and joint ventures. Bear with me here, this will take some explaining.

IN THIS NEW MILLENNIUM, we find all our traditional media in a state of upheaval amid a digital onslaught. This isn't necessarily a crisis. Except. . . .

There's this rather large question hanging over the Internet's conquest of all media: What happens to the Fourth Estate as the digital revolution overruns the positions of local television and radio . . . and especially the hometown newspaper? What's the economic model for local media in an Internet world?

How do local media -- particularly news media -- transition to the 'Net and still make enough money to keep the doors open and the public informed? What would become of a city, its civic culture and democracy itself if local news media became shells of their former selves or, God forbid, shriveled up and died?

How could that be good for anybody?

Who, in a coordinated way, is trying to work the problem? Is the working media effectively partnering with academia to, for one, develop new ways of doing journalism and, for another, effectively prepare tomorrow's reporters, producers and editors?

Obviously, the task is overwhelming. There's nothing but bad news on the doorsteps of newspapers today. Ditto for radio and TV stations.

And in a looming age of budget cuts to academia, what school or think tank is in a position to comprehensively tackle the problem?

THE OBVIOUS ANSWER is it's time to put heads together. We need joint efforts. We need cooperation. We need coalitions. We desperately need public-private partnerships.

And if the partnering is done right, there's something in it for everybody.

So . . . what if (for example) the Omaha World-Herald were to join with the University of Nebraska at Omaha, Creighton University, the University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Nebraska Educational Telecommunications to form a Midwestern journalism think tank and media laboratory?

What if it became an integral part of the journalism curricula of the three participating universities? What if it became a focus of innovation and invention for an entire industry?

What if it became an unmatched resource for each participating entity, one that would be completely out of reach for any of the partners acting unilaterally? What if it became a source of valuable year-round interns for the World-Herald and NET . . . and precious year-round internships (and practical experience) for mass-communications students from the three universities?

What if that kind of synergy between media outlets and academic institutions became a magnet for the best minds in media and academia? Right here in Omaha.

Fine, now what in the hell does this have to do with a downtown baseball stadium and NoDo development?

I'm glad you asked.

WHY NOT MAKE such a joint-venture institute -- complete with a state-of-the-art digital newsroom, audio/video production facilities and classroom/office space -- an integral part of the stadium site plan? Put the studios where some of the canceled retail space would have gone. Add a satellite-uplink facility, too.

ESPN would love it.

The visiting media would love it.

The NCAA would love it.

Mass-communications students and their professors would love a learning experience as big as the CWS every year . . . on their campus.

Wouldn't the Omaha Convention and Visitors Bureau love it if, say, not only were there two weeks' worth of televised CWS games live from downtown Omaha, but perhaps two weeks' worth of SportsCenters as well? If you build the facilities, at the stadium, with a built-in labor pool, just maybe they'll come with half the network.

How many millions in advertising do you think that would be worth every year?

And what economic impact, do you think, would a college campus -- and maybe hundreds of students and professionals -- have on NoDo and downtown year round?

I mean, as long as we're building a big, new stadium, why not make it a field of dreams? And new realities.

The problem with print

Before cable TV, before the advent of the 24-hour news cycle, before the Internet, before society cracked up and then splintered into ever-smaller demographics, time marched on at a more leisurely pace.

Instant was for coffee, oatmeal and Polaroid pictures. We still had attention spans exceeding that of a fruit fly.

Look . . . Dec. 17, 1963

THERE WAS a prominent place in the media world for excellent general-interest magazines like Life and Look.

Imagine a world where, for example, Time and People could coexist inside the same cover. That would have been Look.

Sort of.

Then came Nov. 22, 1963, and the world lost even more of its innocence . . . and its patience.

SUDDENLY, a couple of weeks could be a lifetime -- worlds could change. Presidents could be murdered. Eras could end.

Magazines like Look, with their long lead times between deadline and hitting the magazine rack, could look tragically out of it tragically quickly. As do newspapers in 2008, when the Web renders them yesterday's news before today's edition hits your driveway.

The handwriting appeared on the wall long ago . . . the second the Internet could deliver the depth of print at the speed of TV. And at the right price, too.

Free.

It's not like the world is slowing down or anything.

I guess John F. Kennedy did lose after all. In many ways, so did we all.

I miss magazines like Look.

I'll miss the Daily Blab, too.

Somebody's been laying off the wrong folks

I don't know whether this is a case of "they'll hire anybody nowadays . . . before they fire 'em" or "never let the facts get in the way of a good story."

Whatever the case, what follows is sloppy, sloppy journalism, and somebody at the Associated Press -- or the New Orleans Times-Picayune . . . or WWL-TV . . . or the Akron Beacon Journal -- possessing a high-schooler's understanding of civics and the criminal-justice system ought to have stood athwart stupidity yelling "Stop!"

THE OFFENDING PASSAGE comes at the end of an AP story recounting the rags-to-riches-to prison, then to-rags-to-redemption life story of Dr. Billy Cannon who, a half-century after his LSU glory days, will finally make it to the College Football Hall of Fame.

Even Cannon couldn't help but find irony of his inclusion on the dais such a group.

"You heard all about guidance, leadership, doing the right thing, and there's a convicted felon sitting in the middle of them," Cannon said with smile. "One of the reasons I'm here today: I did the crime, I did the time, and I haven't had a problem since. Not even a speeding ticket."

Cannon did declare for bankruptcy in 1995. Out of work in 1997, he returned to the place he served his time — the Louisiana State Penitentiary in Angola.

He's been working as a dentist there ever since, fixing teeth and acting as a positive example for the inmates.

"I get to talk to them all when they come in and when they leave," he said. "I say, 'You know you can make it.' And they say, 'You made it Doc. We got a shot don't we?'

"I say, 'Don't waste it.'"

DEAR AP IN NEW YORK: Dr. Billy Cannon, in his criminal life, was a counterfeiter. Counterfeiting is a federal offense, kind of like a national writer thinking you get sent to the state pen for it. In fact, Cannon did his time at the federal pen in Texarkana.

I know, mistakes happen. But mistakes based on gross assumptions and grosser ignorance of basic issues of criminal jurisdiction are a lot tougher to forgive.

Especially when there are a lot of unemployed journalists out there who know a little civics and know better than to go around making an ass out of u and me.

Let's just bring back Congo Square, OK?

Colleen Kane over at the don't-miss Abandoned Baton Rouge blog posted a link to my video about . . . the abandoned -- and/or decrepit -- parts of Baton Rouge. (Thanks, Colleen!)

Of course, this brought out another Louisianian for Dysfunctionality to defend the state's state of entropy. Merriam-Webster defines "entropy" as I use it thus:

2 a: the degradation of the matter and energy in the universe to an ultimate state of inert uniformity b: a process of degradation or running down or a trend to disorder

3: CHAOS, DISORGANIZATION, RANDOMNESS

MORE SUCCINCTLY, the native Louisiana term for this -- basically the verbal equivalent of a Gallic shrug -- is "Well, dat's Loosiana for you!"

I saw the following comment in the ABR combox, and I just couldn't let it slide. Believe me, I'd like to, but. . . .

See, I know that all the funny, colorful and exotic Louisiana stories with which I can dazzle, horrify and entrance your average Midwesterner usually have come at a terrible cost . . . to somebody. Somehow.

Here's the comment:

Well, to be honest, most of the areas you document were run down and creepy even 25 years ago. The Broadmoor Theatre, which provoked so much nostalgia in your comments, was a notorious s***hole by the mid 80's at least. I saw "Time Bandits" there and believe me it did not have a good reputation even then.

Louisiana is closer to the Caribbean in spirit than any other American state. It's poor, run down, hopelessly stratified, and half of the s*** there is broken. But then again, that's where its spirit also lies. I lived in Louisiana most of my life and it's impossible for me to imagine it without some form of decay.

I see no point in being rueful about it. There is more effortless, genuine weirdness on some streets in Louisiana than in the entire state of California. Take it from me. A clean, organized, well-maintained Louisiana wouldn't have given us Jazz, the Blues, the plays of Tennessee Williams, or much of anything.

Decay and casual insanity are too much of our character.

Posted by: Teeray in L.A. December 08, 2008 at 11:27 PM

HERE'S THE RESPONSE I left on the Abandoned Baton Rouge post. I thought I'd share it here as well:

I certainly hope Teeray in L.A. isn't seriously serious here. If you carry his argument to its logical conclusion, we're going to end up reinstituting chattel slavery and importing us some fresh African captives so they can make merry one day a week in a reconstituted Congo Square in New Orleans.

Gawd knows what wunnerful new "original American artform" we might get out of that.

In essence, some Louisianians' twisted justification for the state's inability to govern itself for the benefit of the governed comes down to arguing that because God is capable of writing straight with crooked lines, we therefore ought to be as crooked as possible.

That's the *unvarnished* version of these apologists' argument. Viewed as such, it's patently nuts.

If you said as much about the 'hood -- "Let's keep the ghetto as f***ed up as possible so suburban white boys can have some good rap and hip-hop to jam to while cruising in daddy's SUV" -- you'd rightly be denounced as an exploitative racist bastard.

"Louisiana is closer to the Caribbean in spirit than any other American state," Teeray writes. "It's poor, run down, hopelessly stratified, and half of the s*** there is broken. But then again, that's where its spirit also lies."

That's a flat-out paean to cultural parasitism -- exploiting others' suffering to get ones' aesthetic jollies. And there are real people suffering amid Louisiana's trendy "Caribbean spirit."

And they don't have the luxury of hopping a 727 to Los Angeles and marveling at how quaint it all is as they sip their vodka on the rocks.

I WISH Nina Simone were still alive. She could look one state to the west and write a rip-roaring sequel to her 1960s masterpiece about Mississippi.

"Louisiana Goddam," she could call it.

Ask not whether Obama goes to church

I call bulls*** on The New Republic's John B. Judis:

Am I the only person who is really irritated by these unctuous reports from the Politico that President-Elect Barack Obama is not attending church on Sunday? Here is an excerpt from reporter Ben Smith’s dumb story:

As my colleagues Jonathan Martin and Carol Lee noted last week, Barack Obama -- despite undergoing a campaign maelstrom over his pastor -- isn't a regular churchgoer. He didn't often attend Sunday services on the trail, and--unlike Presidents-elect Bush and Clinton--hadn't been since his election.

This is the kind of reporting one would expect from the Christian Broadcast Network, whose editors and reporters presumably view less than weekly religious observance as an offense against God, and as a sign of moral depravity in a public official, but why is this presumably secular publication making such a big deal about it? I regard as an invasion of Obama’s privacy.

JOHN B. JUDIS, it is apparent, guards Barack Obama's privacy much more jealously than does the president-elect himself. I wonder what he would say about a press corps that treated President Bush with such extreme deference?

Obama, for one thing, made his own Christianity a campaign draw in his efforts to court both the religious left and elements of the religious right. Pictured above -- and here -- is a campaign flier from the South Carolina Democratic primary last winter.

Did Obama invade his own privacy? Was that entire aspect of the Obama '08 campaign something "one would expect from the Christian Broadcast Network [sic]"?

Did Obama's Christianity cease to be in the public domain once America cast its ballots Nov. 4?

Has George W. Bush's privacy been violated when commentators of a certain stripe blame his Christianity for every boneheaded thing he's ever done as president? Has Bush's privacy been violated by all the armchair psychoanalysis of how his Christian faith has intersected with public policy?

Indeed, was the Washington press corps way out of bounds when reporters noted Ronald Reagan rarely attended services?

IT IS TOO MUCH to expect perfect objectivity from any journalist -- mainly because such a thing doesn't exist. It is ridiculous to expect such within The New Republic's realm of "viewpoint journalism."

But is it too much to expect a little reportorial legwork . . . and a little intellectual honesty as well?

For example, let's look at the July 12 edition of Newsweek:

The cross under which Obama went to Jesus was at the controversial Trinity United Church of Christ. It was a good fit. "That community of faith suited me," Obama says. For one thing, Trinity insisted on social activism as a part of Christian life. It was also a family place. Members refer to the sections in the massive sanctuary as neighborhoods; churchgoers go to the same neighborhood each Sunday and they get to know the people who sit near them. They know when someone's sick or got a promotion at work. Jeremiah Wright, whom Obama met in the context of organizing, became a friend; after he married, Obama says, the two men would sometimes get together "after church to have chicken with the family—and we would have talked stories about our families." In his preaching, Wright often emphasized the importance of family, of staying married and taking good care of children. (Obama's recent Father's Day speech, in which he said that "responsibility does not end at conception," was not cribbed from Wright—but the premise could have been.) At the point of his decision to accept Christ, Obama says, "what was intellectual and what was emotional joined, and the belief in the redemptive power of Jesus Christ, that he died for our sins, that through him we could achieve eternal life—but also that, through good works we could find order and meaning here on Earth and transcend our limits and our flaws and our foibles—I found that powerful."

Maya says their mother would not have made the same choice—but that Ann understood and approved of Obama's decision: "She didn't feel the same need, because for her, she felt like we can still be good to one another and serve, but we don't have to choose. She was, of course, always a wanderer, and I think he was more inclined to be rooted and make the choice to set down his commitments more firmly."

After his stint as an organizer, Obama went to Harvard Law School. He didn't officially join Trinity until several years later, when he returned to Chicago as a promising young lawyer intent on becoming a husband, a father and a professional success. Around the time Obama was baptized, he says he studied the Bible with gifted teachers who would "gently poke me about my faith." As young marrieds, Barack and Michelle (who also didn't go to church regularly as a child) went to church fairly often—two or three times a month. But after their first child, Malia, was born, they found making the effort more difficult. "I don't know if you've had the experience of taking young, squirming children to church, but it's not easy," he says. "Trinity was always packed, and so you had to get there early. And if you went to the morning service, you were looking at—it just was difficult. So that would cut back on our involvement."

After he began his run for the U.S. Senate, he says, the family sometimes didn't go to Trinity for months at a time. The girls have not attended Sunday school. The family says grace at mealtime, and he talks to the children about God whenever they have questions. "I'm a big believer in a faith that is not imposed but taps into what's already there, their curiosity or their spirit," he says.

Amid the hubbub, Obama continued to try to work out for himself what it meant to be a person of faith. In 1999, while still in the Illinois State Senate, he shared an office suite with Ira Silverstein, an Orthodox Jew. Obama peppered Silverstein with questions about Orthodox restrictions on daily life: the kosher laws and the sanctions against certain kinds of behavior on the Sabbath. "On the Sabbath, if I ever needed anything, Barack would always offer," remembers Silverstein. "Some of the doors are electric, so he would offer to open them … I didn't expect that."

Since severing ties with Wright and Trinity, Obama is a little spiritually rootless again. He lost a friend in Wright—and he lost a home, however tenuous those ties may have been toward the end, in Trinity. He has not found a new church, and he doesn't plan to look for one until after the election. "There's an aspect of the campaign process that would not make it a good time to figure out whether a particular church community worked for us," he says. "Because of what happened at Trinity, we'd be under a spotlight."

Nevertheless, his spiritual life on the campaign trail survives. He says he prays every day, typically for "forgiveness for my sins and flaws, which are many, the protection of my family, and that I'm carrying out God's will, not in a grandiose way, but simply that there is an alignment between my actions and what he would want." He sometimes reads his Bible in the evenings, a ritual that "takes me out of the immediacy of my day and gives me a point of reflection." Thanks to the efforts of his religious outreach team, he has an army of clerics and friends praying for him and e-mailing him snippets of Scripture or Midrash to think about during the day.

IF POLITICO is guilty of anything, it's not invasion of privacy. It's of not reading Newsweek.

Invasion of privacy? Lay off the church thang?

Yea, I pray thee, Brother Judas Judis, giveth thou me a break.

Turn your radio . . . off

Good Lord, it's carnage out there in Radioland.

AND WHEN you're talking about radio, that was before the economy went royally south. Now. . . .

But the small minds in expensive suits who run today's broadcasting conglomerates -- and, increasingly, public radio organizations -- need to reflect upon just one thing, which Inside Music Media's Jerry Del Colliano keeps pointing out.

How long do the suits expect they can produce any revenue at all if they keep firing all the people who produce content, which draws an audience, which attracts advertisers (or underwriters . . . or donors)?

It's carnage out there.

Carnage.

Carnage.

Carnage.

Carnage.

And the final carnage, which is yet to come, will threaten the existence of the medium itself. And there won't be a federal bailout to save the day.

Maybe if they tried Craigslist. . . .

First the Rocky Mountain News went up for sale last week, with no buyers in sight. It well could be the big -30- for the 149-year-old Denver media institution.

THEN, reports had the Miami Herald headed for the clearance rack. Finally, word came Sunday that the whole fraggin' Tribune Company -- including the Chicago Tribune -- is looking to file for bankruptcy.

This is a bad, bad time to be a new print-journalism grad. It's a worse time to be a newspaper veteran.

I'm not sure there is anyone out there dumb enough to be in the market for a major metropolitan daily. Assuming such fools investors exist, perhaps cash-starved media corporations ought to try reeling them in with ads on Craigslist.

After all, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

As cool as Granny and Gramps

I think I should have liked to have been a young man in New York City in the '50s.

Or hanging out at the Drum Room in Kansas City. Double bourbon, rocks.

Then, it wasn't an extraordinary thing to hang out and listen to pure jazz singers like Marilyn Maye at a cabaret. Now. . . .

Story of my life -- born too late.

SATURDAY NIGHT, however, the missus and I got the chance right here in Omaha. We treated ourselves, as a Christmas present, to Maye's cabaret show at the Holland Center for the Performing Arts' "1200 Club."

This is Omaha, not Noo Yawk, and young hipsters haven't really gotten past indie rock yet, so we were nearly the youngest people in the room. OK . . . it's a good thing they've banned smoking indoors here, or oxygen tanks would have been blowing up all over. Is what I'm sayin'.

But you know what? The old folks know good stuff. They grew up with good stuff.

Marilyn Maye is 80 years young now, and she's still great stuff. When Sinatra was 80, his voice was pretty well shot. Maye at 80 still has some mad skillz.

So, I thought I'd find a video for you of Marilyn Maye back in the day, at the height of her powers. Another one is here, from a 1967 episode of ABC's Hollywood Palace variety show . . . she's on toward the end of the segment.

Who knows, maybe some 20-something Omaha hipsters will read this, a light bulb will go on and we'll find ourselves as up-to-date as Kansas City. Or Noo Yawk.

Maybe, someday, they even might be as cool as Grandma and Grandpa.

Blessed apathy

It seems good things happen in Louisiana when people stay away from the polls in droves. Make of that what you will.

This time, the beneficiary of voters' not noticing -- or caring -- an election was on ended up being . . . democracy itself. Saturday, only 12 percent of voters turned out in largely African-American precincts in the New Orleans area, while a comparatively robust 26 percent turned out in white precincts, and famously shady U.S. Rep. William "Dollar Bill" Jefferson was toast.

FINALLY.

From the New York Times story today:

Representative William J. Jefferson was defeated by a little-known Republican lawyer here Saturday in a late-running Congressional election, underscoring the sharp demographic shifts in this city since Hurricane Katrina and handing Republicans an unexpected victory in a district that had been solidly Democratic.

The upset victory by the lawyer, Anh Cao, was thought by analysts to be the result of a strong turnout by white voters angered over federal corruption charges against Mr. Jefferson, a black Democrat who was counting on a loyal base to return him to Congress for a 10th term.

A majority of the district’s voters are African-American, and analysts said lower turnout in the majority black precincts on Saturday meant victory for the Republican.

With all precincts reporting, Mr. Cao, who was born in Vietnam, had 49 percent of the vote to 46 percent for Mr. Jefferson, who had not conceded as of late Saturday night.

(snip)

Mr. Jefferson, shunned by national Democratic Party figures and low on money because of his pending trial, was counting on — and appeared to be getting — strong support from local leaders. In 2006, he was handily re-elected though the bribery scandal had already been aired.

This year, a number of the city’s top black pastors announced their support for him just days before the election.

But it was not enough. Mr. Cao, promising ethics and integrity, offered voters a break from the scandals associated with the incumbent and his siblings, several of whom have also been indicted.

Mr. Jefferson, 61, awaits trial on federal counts of soliciting bribes, money laundering and other offenses. Prosecutors contend that he used his Congressional office to broker deals in African nations, and say he received more than $500,000 in bribes.

Mr. Cao, 41 and known as Joseph, fled Vietnam at age 8 after the fall of Saigon. His father was a army officer who was later imprisoned for seven years by the Communist government. Mr. Cao, who has never held elective office, has been an advocate for the small but prominent Vietnamese community here and has a master’s degree in philosophy from Fordham University.

IT'S NOT OFTEN one finds reason for good cheer when talking about New Orleans electoral politics. Today there is reason -- lift up your song to Heaven and break out the good liquor!

And let's all say a little prayer thanking the Almighty for good ol' Louisiana apathy, Anh "Joseph" Cao (pronounced "GAO"), Democratic pols who crossed over to campaign for him . . . and a dedicated do-gooder minority of voters.

3 Chords & the Truth: Bad clothes. Fun music.

This episode of 3 Chords & the Truth is for the Class of '79.

Heck, the Class of '78, for that matter. Or even '76 or '80.

That's right, we goin' old school for a big chunk of the Big Show this week. And it will be good. And you will dance.

Well . . . at least as much as your bad back and aging knees will allow.

ALL YOU NEED to join in the fun -- no matter whether you're 15 or 50 -- is to drag something double-knit (triple-knit is even better) out of the closet, find yourself a pair of ridiculous shoes and shake shake shake (shake shake shake) shake your booty.

Heh, I said "booty." (Snicker.)

If your closet or attic is tragically bare of embarrassing attire, I can wait for you to get back from a quick Goodwill run.

But hurry, it's gonna be fun.

SO, THAT'S the deal on 3 Chords & the Truth this week -- horrifying clothes, dance-o-licious tunes. Among other stuff, being that we're nothing if not diverse on your Internet headquarters for freeform goodness.

It's the Big Show. Be there. Aloha.