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| Tuesday, August 16, 2005 |
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First Darwin, now Newton 
The beat goes on
| | Mike Taht turned 40 a few days ago. Sorry I missed it, so here's a belated happy one for the big guy. Mike was born the summer of '65, on a day with five launches. I was just out of high school and getting unready for college. The family was just done camping one last time out at Hither Hills, near Montauk, where a year earlier I had fallen for a sweetie from the Bronx named Janice Planamenta. I think, by August 12, we were on another camping trip, this time up to Kring Point State Park, at the Thousand Islands, where my friend Bob Fischer and I wet out in a canoe with an outboard clamped to the side, picked up some beer (we had both just turned 18) at a marina, and killed it camping on an island out in the St. Lawrence somewhere, as giant freight-carrying ships eased up and down the deep channel, like moving walls blocking our view of the Canadian side. The radio was playing Dylan's Like a Rolling Stone, Sonny & Cher's I Got You Babe, the Stones' (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction, the Righteous Brothers' Unchained Melody, the Byrds Mister Tamborine Man, the Beach Boy's California Girls, Barbara Lewis' Baby I'm Yours, the Four Tops' I Can't Help Myself and the Beatles' Help!. There was a fabulous overlap of Folk, Motown, Beatles, Surf, Pop and teen romance ballads. FM was just getting hot, although Top 40 AM radio had nearly a decade left. At night we listened to WABC and WKBW while camping in both places, hanging out on the boats and beaches, feeling all grown up, or something like it. |
| | I don't think I ever camped with the family again after that. I was off to college, and worked every summer, earning money for more college. By the time I got out, I was already married with a kid on the way. The Vietnam War was tearing the world apart and the paradise that was Summer was something that had to wait for my own kids to appreciate. So, as Sonny and Cher put it... |
Cygnus as in health
| | So let's not talk about relationships. Let's talk about sex. Let's not talk about "healthy narcissism" and getting your needs met. Let's talk about the humility that comes for free with being what we are, without any need to pretty it up with hearts and flowers and breathy whispers about Truth and Beauty. |
Looking for a better doghouse
| | As you know if you've tried to visit Sam(the ugliest dog)'s home on the Web, there's a small bandwidth issue. Sam's blog is fine. But sam's site (samugliestdog.com) is hosted by an outfit that can't stand more than a trickle of visitors. That's not a knock; it's just the way it was set up in the first place. |
| | So Susie is looking to find Sam a home that can handle the occasional crowd. Like yesterday when Sam was featured in the LA Times, Drudge and MSNBC. |
| | I told Susie we'll find her something. Post something here, or send me an email (doc AT searls.com). |
How did I miss this?
The difference distinction
| | Journalists go to work and do their jobs to earn a paycheck and provide the necessities for themselves and their families. The notion that their job is something intrinsically greater than that is, well, silly. If you don't think so, ask all the journalists in the US to work for nothing more than the chance to "make a difference," and see how many you have showing up in the newsroom the next day. |
| | Of course, there will still be many, many journalists who are willing to do exactly that. We call them the Blogosphere. And that is the New Thing that is shattering the clay foundations of the journalism myth. |
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