The Future Of CBS News

While we are waiting and Fitzgerald is deciding whether to nail Rove and Libby and maybe Cheney, or one, or two , or none and while Miers is stuck in the nether land of confirmation--- here's something else to chew on.

CBS let News President Andrew Heyward, who had been (in the famous Watergate phrase) twisting in the wind for all these months, CBS let him push himself off what was left of his cliff. So Heyward is out, and CBS, which had allowed rumors to float that it would appoint the head of MTV to the post, named Sean McManus instead. McManus, surely mostly anonymous as head of the Sports Division up to this moment, will now hold both jobs and turn things around.

McManus is the son of ABC sports anchor Jim McKay, who was completely professional and smart, cool and collected. Remember his reporting about the terrorists at the Olympics? Plus, the precedent for sliding someone from sports into news is not new, and is, in fact, a pretty heartening one. Roone Arledge did it at ABC and changed, for the better, the topography of news presentation and coverage as we know it.

But here's the bad part : it's CBS News, which moves like an exhausted runner trying to inch his way through sand. The last innovative concept in news over there was 60 Minutes, about 200 years ago.

CBS could use plenty of vision if it is going to ever salvage what is left of its reputation post-Rather, but, sad to say, can any of us think of a single smart or memorable change on screen that McManus has instituted during his time leading Sports? I'm talking production and packaging here, not purchasing and sales. If McManus has nothing big and new to bring to the presentation table then there is no future for CBS News.

Judy Miller

After reading The NY Times article about the jailing and subsequent testimony of Judith Miller, and her own recounting of the events surrounding the situation:



Yesterday upon the stair

I saw a man that wasn't there
He wasn't there again today
How I wish he'd go away.

Judy Miller is an embarrassment to her profession. This is a terrible situation for both The Times and for her because (as Stein famously said) after all the furor, all the melodrama, all the pretension and posturing there was no there there.

Miller may go down as the most annoying icon, and most conveniently forgetful public figure since Ronald Reagan.

Dobson Clearing It Up

Rocky Mountain News says ultraconservative, Focus On The Family leader, James Dobson is going to “take to the airwaves,” this Wednesday and Thursday to reveal what specific assurances and information he received from ultraconservative blabbermouth Presidential advisor Karl Rove about Supreme Court nominee Harriet Miers.

First of all, I love that the Rocky Mountain News actually uses that expression: “take to the airwaves.” If only I could be doing the same. Conjures up images of Jack Armstrong or The Lone Ranger and the earlier, simpler days of radio. Perhaps Dobson will wear a cape during.

Second: apparently whatever Rove said that led Dobson to support Miers, contained so much detail that it is going to take 2 days for Dobson to lay it out. God only took 5 more to create everything. And he is known to be super-efficient.

Third: This is brilliant scheduling by Dobson. He can say anything, any mea culpa, and God (his main constituent), is unlikely to be around to hear. I mean, god is already distracted by the earthquake in Pakistan and also going to be very busy on Wednesday, diverted by the Jews and Yom Kippur. (Even the most fallen away Jew will be observing the highest of the high holy days in some way, especially now that the Yankees have been eliminated.) Then Thursday the lord will be recuperating from all that hard work, and will have to get any information about Dobson Parts I and II from secondary sources.

In any case it is hard to know which media sources the supreme being relies on, since everyone claims his/her exclusive attention. I myself have had no comments here from god since I began posting, though I enter each day with hope and would gladly provide my private email address and make certain the correct spam filters are on if that is more convenient.

Then again, maybe Karl Rove will call me too, now that he has a few moments between being indicted and talking with Judy Miller, and that Time Magazine guy, and Dobson. Hearing from Rove would almost be as good as getting a note from god. I promise you that if I do, afterwards, I will take to the airwaves too, faster than you can say fun with family values.

Me And My iPod

This past month I have been restoring my energy and strength after the inevitable byproduct of age, neglect and stupidity thrust itself on me.

No more workouts at the gym (at least for 2 months); no more bopping around as though I was still 15 and hearing Elvis for the first time. What I can do, am supposed to do, is ease my mind and body. As much as I possibly can.

So, in heat and in rain, and at peculiar hours, over many days, I have been walking around, increasing the distances, loving what I see, enjoying the people and the streets. Needing no further reminder of the frailty of life, the fragility of time, I also began making plans for some long-distance travel, to see loved family and friends. By bus, by train, by plane whenever possible I am going as soon as I can.

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Anyone who knows me, even slightly, also knows that music is a very important part of my life. My tastes are, and have always been, wide-ranging, and highly eclectic.

I can tell you the name of my favorite Benny Goodman or my favorite opera, the date that Earth Angel was released, the latest from Richard Thompson (mostly thanks to my brother), or the most pleasurable Fats Waller or Fats Domino or Lucinda Williams. There is joy in very early Frank Sinatra and Tommy Dorsey. And I even know the best yodeler or slack guitarist. I am clear about where I was when I first heard Little Richard and Chuck Berry and Muddy Waters or Glenn Gould and Segovia.

When I came here a few years ago into a small condo in the Back Bay of Boston I sadly had to give away hundreds of CDs and sold (for almost no money) an equal number of vinyl 33s I had been promising myself I’d listen to again for years without ever doing it. Over those years I moved from 78s to albums to CDs and from a suitcase-like Admiral, to components, to iTunes and tiny digital speakers. Now, even my remaining CDs (still plenty) mostly are untouched in favor of the music stored on my computer.

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So long trips and long walks. A lovely way to restore body and soul.

The only thing missing has been, what is for me, the best antidote of all: my music.

But it’s not missing anymore. Now I take my music with me. I have purchased an Apple iPod Shuffle. It is a refurbished model, which seems only perfect because, now, so am I.

I am one of them. I have become one of those people you see everywhere, overly long white wires drooping from my ears to below my waist, attached to a tiny (very tiny) white plastic thingy that somehow (oh, the magic!) has hundreds of songs inside. All ready, at the touch of a button to play themselves for me no matter where I am going. I am somewhere, on the street, on the bus, on the train, on the plane--- and I am going. Sometimes I even wear a baseball cap in a desperate attempt to blend in. Dumb. Doesn't work.

But I don’t care that people roll their eyes (though some smile indulgently) when they see me coming, slightly slower now, the oldest kid on the block with an iPod. I am the white haired dude amidst all the youngsters.

Come on, look for me. I am getting better, all plugged in and forgetting from time-to-time that no one else can hear what I am hearing, and (god forgive me) often singing impossibly off-key versions of Don’t Fence Me In or Splish Splash, or Desolation Row or Going To Jackson.

Come on. Listen to the music. Ain’t it great to be alive.

The Muck and Miers

Let’s say you know someone professionally. And that the relationship is of the most intimate kind. You share the deepest detailed and privileged information imaginable with this other person. You tell her in advance about your hopes, your plans, your expectations, your strategies. After she gives you her best advice she then steps forward to protect you if something goes wrong. Together you privately enjoy your successes and even admit your failures. Though she knows everything about your professional life she tells no one, bound by her ethics, and the law, and her loyalty from revealing a single thing. What is said behind closed doors remains there, what is confidential stays that way.

This relationship continues for more than 15 years. Deep bonds and absolute trust are built. During that time you are in the public sector. Politics. Your focus shifts from the state to the national. Every day you are forced to confront the issues, explain your positions, and defend your policies. No one is more visible; no one more on the record. A small group of your closest advisors is there with you each step, helping you. This person, your old friend, trusted advisor and protector, is a part of that group.

Then you can reward her for her service. You can nominate her for the US Supreme Court. And you do. When, during the ensuing rush for information, someone asks you what her beliefs are about abortion you say it was not a relevant concern. Shortly thereafter you amend that; you say you do not recall ever, during those many years, having a discussion about abortion with her, and that you do not know her views. Not that you do know but can’t tell because of privacy concerns--- but that you never, ever talked about it together. In all that time.

Congratulations. Your answer will go down as the biggest bunch of bullshit since “I am not a crook,” and “I did not have sex with that woman,” and “because they have weapons of mass destruction.”

Two Short SCOTUS takes:

Look at these thumbnails, both part of a single, larger photo taken the day Roberts was sworn in as Chief. They tell the story.



Scalia, shut out from the top job, is his usual warm, engaging and charming self...



... and Thomas, who did not really understand anything that was going on is just delighted to be out of the house and wearing his big robe again.