Where's Our Next Ben Bradlee?

Over in the comments in Hot Air--I think it was in one of the articles about Mr. Lauria's accusations that President Obama's administration threatened some of Chrysler's secured credit holders--the question was asked: Where are our next Woodward and Bernstein?

The question had been on my mind as well. Where is the next generation of investigative reporters (not journalists) eager to expose the abuse of power? However, I think that might be the wrong question. The reporters might be there but their editors are not publishing their questions.

Woodward and Bernstein wouldn't have had an inch of copy in the Washington Post if Ben Bradlee hadn't given it to them.

And Mr. Bradlee had to justify his decision to Mrs. Katharine Graham, the publisher and owner.

I wonder if the fact that most newspapers are now part of media conglomerates has cooled the ardor of publishers and editors to go after stories that buck the current, politically correct meme-du-jour? My local paper was part of a family-run enterprise for many years; now it's part of a larger chain. Most of the stories are off the AP wire or other features--so we get stories about "religion in America" that are about Baptists in Arkansas or urban churches in Chicago and nothing about how the local congregations are doing. Wil Hearst is ostensibly the editor of The San Francisco Chronicle; however, most of the stories in the Chron are also newswire stories. Is Mr. Hearst going to gamble his family's multimillion dollar media empire to see if the Emperor has no clothes?

No--Mr. Hearst reports to a Board of Directors, who are very, very nervous about the bottom line.

Extraordinary courage will be needed to blow the cover off President Obama and his administration. Perhaps this is a job for the "New Media" who are not beholden to a publishing/media empire

Now Back to Our Regular Programming

I hate migraines.

The old name for them were "megrims," which I think describes them a whole lot better. Because I do get pretty grim when I have one. This month I've had more of them than usual.

Modern medicine allows me to function, but there's a cost. By the evening, I am ready to sit on the sofa and be entertained by television--the fluffier, the better. Unfortunately, my family bears the brunt of my lethargy and grouchiness. So I try and pick up the slack when I'm feeling better, dealing with the stuff--like bills and budgets--that I didn't have the emotional energy to deal with when under a migraine attack.

My writing stalls. All the wonderful entries and essays I've composed in my head disappear along with any desire I might have to sit in front of a computer and type. And, in these parlous times, I'm also hesitant to write during working hours while using my work computer and their servers. Hubs is somewhat jealous of the time and attention I give to outside endeavors as well.

So output slows to a trickle.

One of my migraine triggers is changes in the weather. This year we have had cold-and-sunny, warm-and-sunny, rainy, foggy, morning-fog-and-afternoon-sun. Saturday was the 111th Big Game between Cal and Stanford and I was sitting in the stadium in my shirtsleeves. It was warm enough to wear shorts--well, until the sun went down. Today, it's rainy and looks like November. The leaves from our liquid ambar tree are all over our driveway, the sidewalk, the front yard, and the street. They're rather pretty: deep red and bright orange. But they do need to be swept. Hopefully the weather will stay this way for awhile and let my head settle down.

And I'll be able to find a moment or two to write down my thoughts.

I Won the Po-Bowl!

During the monthly meeting of the Ina Coolbrith Circle, my name was drawn. The poem I read, Taming the Tangle Monster, is posted at the website: http://www.coolpoetry.org/thepobowl.html. There's even a mp3 file so you can hear me read it!

The poem was inspired by my daily battles with DD#2's hair when she was younger. She has since cut her hair, although it's still blond, still straight, and still comes loose from hair elastics and barrettes. But now she deals with it, not me!