[Pic via Cornell Chronicle]

Waxman's schadenfreude on our recent layoffs:

So, now Nick Denton is laying people off, just like those dinosaurs in mainstream media.

The difference is, mainstream newspapers fired real journalists.

OH SNAP.

What the Gawker empire represents is as transitory as the people he employs. Denton has indisputably proved that you can create a lucrative business model out of highly targeted blogs, fed by tightly managed staffs of journalists who've numbed themselves to nagging doubts that what they do every day is journalism.

Ha. I have no doubt that what I do here every day is not "journalism," per se. It's called "blogging," and it has elements of journalism. What an asinine argument. I expect far more accurate insults from an actual journalist, Sharon Waxman.

Denton is ripe for mocking, and he knows it... "Gawker Media is behaving like those big media companies that we mock so easily." (Used to? Does this mean they will no longer mock and smear and malign journalists at big media companies? Too late. Had I known, I might have stayed at The New York Times.)

We apologize for singlehandedly forcing you to quit your job at the New York Times in order to seduce venture capitalists into funding your upcoming "primary, multi-platform source for the best original and aggregated content, adapted for the digital age." Although, to be honest, we will continue to smear and malign journalists at big media companies, when necessary.

And while I'm at it,

Yes?

let me publicly lament the flight of talented colleagues, Jeff Leeds of the Times and Gabriel Snyder, once of Variety, to the world of celebrity infotainment, and the kingdom of snark, respectively. Leeds, one of the best music journalists working (or, rather, not working) has gone to Buzznet, where he will be the editor-in-chief. Snyder becomes managing editor at Gawker. Like other journalists, they have to eat, so one can hardly blame them.

And to think: they could have applied at The Wrap News.

[Waxword]

I take issue with a piece like this because I think it plays with fire. “She has started cooking with olive oil and occasionally butter, and has increased her consumption of nuts and peanut butter,” Pope writes.

Well I’m glad she brings up peanut butter. I ate peanut butter almost every day when I was losing weight, but careful Tara: I was also burning about 8 trillion calories a day up in Bedford with my trainer and on long hikes with my Labrador (whom I jokingly referred to as my ‘outdoor/backup trainer).

Also:

Nuts are a big deal: they pack huge fat content and they’ll keep you CHUNKAAAAY if you’re not workin’ it.

Oh baby. Well Emily, if you really want to be able to down all the peanut butter you want, I suggest you give this a shot:

The stairs squeaked as we went up. It was a narrow staircase, winding, just wide enough for your body. A nautilus, maybe 100 feet high. Not very stable. Dark, too, but for the holes shot by the tank. I slowed my step. The shot was loud inside the staircase, and I couldn’t see much, because the second marine was falling backward, falling onto Ashley, who fell onto me. Warm liquid spattered on my face. The three of us tumbled backward out the doorway. The second marine, although bloodied, was not hit...

After a long bombardment, the Marines are eventually able to go in and fetch Miller, who had been shot:

Miller was out. Two marines had pulled him from the tower, Goggin one of them, choking and coughing. Black lung, they called it later. Miller was on his back; he had come out head first. His face was opened in a large V, split like meat, fish maybe, with the two sides jiggling.

“Please tell me he’s not dead,” Ash said. “Please tell me.”

“He’s dead, Ash,” I said.

I felt it then. Darting, out of reach. You go into these places, and you think they’re overrated, they are not nearly as dangerous as people say. Keep your head; keep the gunfire in front of you. You get close and come out unscathed every time, your face as youthful and as untroubled as before. The life of the reporter: always someone else’s pain. A woman in an Iraqi hospital cradles her son newly blinded, and a single tear rolls down her cheek. The cheek is so dry, and the tear moves so slowly that you focus on it for a while, the tear traveling across the wide desert plain. You need a corpse for the newspaper, so you take a bunch of marines to get one. Then suddenly it’s there, the warm liquid on your face, the death you have always avoided, smiling back at you as if it knew all along. Your fault.

[NYT Magazine. Pic via NYM]

As you would expect, the reporter starts off the article by telling you that she has been in Williamsburg for a decade—way before all these gentrifiers got here. But in her discussion of McCarren Park and the accompanying photo slide show, the kickballers receive only a passing mention in a photo caption! Instead, the reporter's single source for the story of the park's rich variety is a 64-year-old Ecuadorean hot dog vendor. What does she know about Bloc Party? Sheesh.

[NYT. Note to hipsters: the last McCarren Pool Party is today and I walked by earlier, and there is no way you're getting into that motherfucker. Seriously, take up basketball instead.]

Salkin's story on the hot ukulele trend is out, and fits perfectly in his oeuvre. His past investigations have exposed chicks who eat meat, revealed how no one goes on vacations any more, and uncovered prepsters who hang out downtown—as well as their rival hipsters who hang out in Atlantic City.

We're now prepared to reveal Salkin's journalistic method to the public: He solicits you to hang out with him in casual settings and mines you for minutiae, which he then seasons with his patented significance-inflating sauce:

"I see you're no vegetarian!"

"Downtown is getting so preppy."

"Can you believe my dumbass roommate bought a ukulele?"

Lately I've been tying my shoelaces inside the shoe, to prevent those floppy strings on the outside. Others in Brooklyn are doing the same. Call me, Allen.

[NYT]

A Chevrolet billboard that used real pennies was stripped clean within 30 minutes. In Singapore, advertisers painted an extra yellow safety line on a train platform with the name “Wonderbra” on it, leaving commuters to figure out the message (that the bra’s lifting qualities were so forceful that wearers would have to stand back)...

Many people did not get it.

You can't ask for everything to make sense. It's hot outside. Stay tuned here for breaking news coverage of only the finest future publicity stunts throughout the summer and beyond!

[NYT]

David Blum at the NY Press uncovers a disturbing pattern of ongoing metaphor abuse that makes Carr appear to be a man at the end of his rope. We can only hope that this moment of clarity serves as a wake up call to him and all those who enable his root vegetable comparison habit. Here are Blum's findings, all taken from Carr's own work—starting with his current book and stretching back four long years:

Describing himself:

“Far from clinically handsome, I have a face that looks like it could have been carved out of mashed potatoes, and my idea of exercise was running the length of my body.”

“….with a face made out of potatoes, the Photoshopped picture will have to go a long way to make me any uglier than I actually am.”

“With a face that looks as if it were crafted out of mashed potatoes and a voice that sounds like a trash compactor that needs oil, I’m not a natural for television…”

About Tim Russert:

“He had a face that seemed to be carved out of potatoes, but he worked on television by working harder than your average talking head…”

Describing actors:

“To the Bagger’s eye, [Daniel Craig] has a face made out of potatoes—although the rest of him seems to be made out of titanium…”

“Directors tend to focus on [Steve] Buscemi’s visage, shooting his face so it looks something like what might happen to a bowl of mashed potatoes if it were sculptured [sic] by an ax.”

“And Detective Sipowicz [Dennis Franz], with a face that looks as if it were carved out of potatoes and the body style of a greeter at Home Depot, was an unlikely hero.”

About author Joe McGinniss:

“[McGinniss] had an old cap set against the Sunday morning sun, a handsome Irish face that could have been carved out of potatoes, and a glint of tragedy in his eyes.”

SEEK HELP.

[NY Press; pic via NY Mag]

Salkin is the Times style reporter who is seemingly responsible for chronicling every (fake) microtrend making the rounds of a certain NYC subculture. He's written about women who eat red meat on the first date, Paul Sevigny's quest to turn Atlantic City into a chic nightlife destination, and how nobody takes vacations any more. Savvy readers will also remember that it was Salkin who in January explored the question, "Has Gawker Jumped The Snark?" (GET IT?)—just as the site was hiring some of the top 20 most mind-blowingly awesome staff members in its history.

With his finger on the pulse of culture, it's natural that Salkin has a wide, hungry fan base. So he has a Yahoo group called "Salkin Stories" that sends out a newsletter so you can keep up with all his important doings! Daily Intel has his latest message (which they note "goes out to a lot of people, many who don't actually know Salkin"), and there are some things you won't want to miss:

1/ Olympics. Due to job and family responsibilities, the folks who were to join me in Beijing for the Olympics can not come. What this means is I have face-value tickets to numerous events and a FREE PLACE TO STAY for a few people. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. All you have to do is get yourself to Beijing. This will be my 7th Olympics and I have done all the hard work of ordering tickets nearly two years in advance and securing a place to stay. I did an apartment swap for my place in New York, so I have a place for free in Beijing.

Say no more, Allen! I am so there.

Closer to home, it’s time to continue the tour of NYC BBQ joints, this time with a trip to the much lauded Fette Sau in Williamsburg. Deal is there are outdoor picnic tables which fill up tres fast, so we need to get there early. I will be arriving around 6pm and would like you there not long after that (but if you want to come and maybe have to sit elsewhere, can come til 7). Let me know asap if you can come, so I can get a head count. We had about 15 people last time (at RUB) and it was great (although Hill Country’s Q was much better, meat-taste-wise).

I sincerely hope that with the help of Gawker readers you can beat that record this time, Allen!

He goes on to fill us in about an article he wrote in HEEB, all his stories in the Times, another story his friend is working on, and throws in an urgent request for any ukulele players to contact him. Okay!

And he has his own website, where he gives a brief rundown of the wild life led by a man named Allen Salkin:

Allen Salkin cast industrial films in Hong Kong, wholesaled rubber duckies in Las Vegas, picked oranges in Crete, peddled oil paintings door-to-door in Western Australia, penned stories for New York Magazine, Details, Heeb, Yoga Journal, The Village Voice and other venues, taught Journalism at NYU and MediaBistro.com, and wrote the book "Festivus: The Holiday for the Rest of Us." He is a staff reporter at The New York Times.

See you all at Fette Sau.

[Daily Intel; pic via January Magazine]

[Bloggers] and other Internet critics have already started to expose what they see as greenwash advertising. A French group called l’Alliance Pour la Planète, for example, cites an ad for a Japanese sport utility vehicle that was billed as having been “conceived and developed in the homeland of the Kyoto accords,” the international emissions-reduction agreement.

The Times' advice: "avoid vague and unsubstantiated claims — the kind that bloggers and other critics are quick to pounce on." That's the New York Times, conceived and developed in the homeland of the Son of Sam killer.

[NYT]

The photo of four rockets—the mark of a powerful nation:

The actual, undoctored photo: three missiles! Dude, so weak:

America owes a debt of gratitude to the New York Times for catching the fake—after it had already run on the top of its home page.

[All images above taken from The Lede]

On Monday—knowing that Carr's column was running—the network apparently gave the scoop about its hiring of ex-Hillary flack Howard Wolfson to Jim Rutenberg, a Times political reporter.

Today, with Carr's missive still hanging in the air, Fox News gave Times reporter Brian Stelter what appears to be the only interview with Fox News executive vice president Kevin Magee regarding Fox Business' hiring of WSJ columnist Walt Mossberg as a contributor. Magee was quoted in the press release announcing the deal, which would presumably make him the guy that every reporter on the story wanted to talk to.

The network is—at the very least—going out of its way to be helpful to the Times this week. But we haven't seen or heard any indications of a Fox News apology (public or otherwise) to Times reporter Jacques Steinberg, who was grossly caricatured on air last week for writing a factual story that the network didn't care for.

The straightforward interpretation of this is that FNC has decided to play nice this week in order to prove Carr's characterization wrong, or at least to indicate that they can rise above direct retaliation against the paper. The sinister interpretation is that Fox News PR has decided to pursue a divide-and-conquer strategy with the Times, being helpful to reporters it favors while freezing out others—like Steinberg—that it does not. The classic carrot and stick approach.

Because we're talking about Fox News PR, we lean towards the sinister interpretation. So the Times had better be careful to show some solidarity in the coming weeks. Hang together or hang separately!

Here are some other instances of Murdoch getting slammed, culled from an exhaustive list at io9 that you should read as well:

• Planet Fred—a movie about a tiny little alien who lives on the head of a media mogul who resembles Murdoch. Hard to believe this one isn't yet a classic.
• Max Headroom—a character named Grossman is an evil network boss who makes people's heads explode from too much advertising. True to life.
• Cold Lazarus—the book by Dennis Potter includes a Murdochian figure named Stiltz, who pushes fake, virtual experiences as a replacement for real ones. Eventually he gets killed. Draw your own conclusions.

Go read the full list at io9! And anyone who reads this book, please submit a report.

[Mixed Media]

After being booted from American Media last month (after lying about it in a rather terrible way), Fuller is now in the midst of some vague web project, bankrolled by former Viacom exec Russ Pillar. The revolutionary idea:

Mr. Pillar says his company, the 5850 Group, is seeking to raise "tens of millions" to back Ms. Fuller as a brand: she has created a company called Bonnie Fuller Media, based in New York. He says the start-up will be heavily digital and offer a variety of femme-friendly products that will include, but not be limited to, gossip, fashion and romance.

Stop the motherfucking presses! If Bonnie Fuller even has a serious plan for what this new, derivative digital project will consist of, we will personally eat a shoe (send over the plan to collect on that, Bonnie). Further, the Times David Carr, while acknowledging that other people have serious problems with Fuller, is personally pleased as punch with her, and says as much both implicitly and explicitly:

Ms. Fuller has created a frothy world, and, like it or not, we all live in it...

That prurient need to know just a little more is pure Bonnie Fuller...

Yes, celebrities have always been with us, but not quite in the way they are now since Ms. Fuller rethought them as familiars, our fake friends whom we can slag or praise, depending on the moment...

AT the moment of her disenfranchisement last month, many publishing insiders could barely hide their glee, although they still sought the cloak of anonymity because Ms. Fuller is the queen of second acts. They hate not only the game — readers at all costs — but also the player...

Having covered Ms. Fuller on and off for the last eight years in her various jobs, I have never been a Bonnie Fuller hater. (Of course, I never worked for her.) For one thing, she has a lack of pretension, an ability to size herself, that's rare in publishing. And on technical magazine matters, she has few peers. She can dig into the relationship between a magazine and its readers with a rare kind of intuition.

Bonnie Fuller: A publishing world hero deserving of praise. Her opponents are straight up haters! And she can sell magazines, so she deserves our respect. And the blog hate—sympathy, please!

Of course, it's worth pointing out that she is sorely lacking in self-awareness, sorely lacking in self-awareness, and sorely lacking in self-awareness.

And Fuller's most passionate defender in the story? Former Star editor and Asshat Joe Dolce. Not interviewed: her ex-assistants. That pretty much says it all.

[NYT]

Alexis gets her quarterly does of Botox from Dr. Wexler:

Lasik on a purported celebrity, yuck:

[NYT]

[UPDATE: And don't forget Mary Rambin already did a video for Restylane!]

Jackson Hewitt says: Taxes make you break things.

Southwest: God damn airlines and their fees!

But anger only goes so far:

Among the ads in the Southwest campaign was one featuring a mock coupon that read, “Don’t #$*!% me over,” which appeared above a declaration that “Southwest is the only airline that accepts this coupon.” That ad, however, was withdrawn.

Assholes! God!

[NYT]

Half of the celebrities in the story, like Jay-Z and Puffy, demand that companies give them partial ownership and allow them to design products, and other requests that seem excessive. You can't blame them for asking, though. More nilla celebrities, however, seem way too nice to play this game well:

“It’s flattering that companies think of you and they want to work with you,” [Ellen DeGeneres] says, adding that she is working with American Express because she liked earlier ads the company did with Jerry Seinfeld.

Ha, sure! And what do you say, borderline Grey's Anatomy star Patrick Dempsey?

“I wear my cologne all of the time,” says Mr. Dempsey, whose fragrance will be introduced by Avon Products in November. “This is a whole different experience and a real education for me, and it has been something that I’ve been involved with every step of the way.”

Hopefully these celebrities are just lying, rather than actually being that naive. The story notes that people don't actually trust celebrities, but they buy their products anyhow. The reason? YOUR INSATIABLE APPETITE:

First has been the emergence of Web sites and magazines that chronicle the mundane, daily activities of stars on a 24/7 basis. A voracious public eager to peek at Hollywood celebrities shopping for shoes and buying coffee wanted, in turn, to buy those shoes and drink that coffee themselves.

There's also plenty of info on Rihanna's umbrella endorsements! But the most honest paragraph in the whole story is this one:

“The reality is people want a piece of something they can’t be,” says Eli Portnoy, a branding strategist. “They live vicariously through the products and services that those celebrities are tied to. Years from now, our descendants may look at us and say, ‘God, these were the most gullible people who ever lived.’ “

[NYT]

The Subway chain of sandwich shops used Peter Griffin — a working-class guy with a New England accent — in a campaign at the end of last year that included television commercials and signs in stores.

The ads promoted a new menu item, the Subway Feast, that would appeal to the character if he were real, because it is “a large sandwich with lots of meat[.]"

Considering the advertising history of a man I like to call "Homer Simpson," I think they'll be safe here. Just keep Bill fucking Engvall out of it.

[NYT]

#1: Be late with the reviewer's reservation.

He returned at 9:02 with something less than disaster relief. Our table, he said, should be ready in 10 minutes. Never mind that we'd been told at 8:45 that we had five minutes to go. Never mind that Ago has some 110 seats, giving it more flexibility than many restaurants have.

We waited. And waited. One of the hostesses finally fetched us at 9:22. I'll do the math: that's 52 minutes after our reservation.

#2: Spill wine on the reviewer or his friends.

I'm talking about the "Poseidon Adventure" of wine spills. Shelley Winters could have done the backstroke in it. I'm not sure how the bartender set it in motion, and neither was he. He kept marveling at its fury and aftermath: my friend's wine-splashed chin, her wine-soaked skirt, her wine-sopped entirety.

#3: Put the reviewer at the worst table in the house.

She led us to a round table little bigger than a bike wheel. When our four appetizers later arrived and claimed every square millimeter of it, the waiter audibly contemplated balancing a fifth, communal appetizer that we'd ordered on top of our wine glasses.

The table was pressed so close to a column that I couldn't lower my right arm all the way, and if my wine-drenched friend leaned back in her chair, the column obstructed her view of me and mine of her.

#4: Have bad food.

This restaurant isn't in the hospitality business. It's in the attitude business, projecting an aloofness that permeated all of my meals there, nights of wine and poses for swingers on the make, cougars on the prowl and anyone else who values a sort of facile fabulousness over competent service or a breaded veal Milanese with any discernible meat.

The one I had one night was pounded so thin that the breading on top met the breading on the bottom without pausing for much of anything in between. A vegan could have made peace with it.

#5: Have waiters who are jerks.

Then came an entree that perplexed us, a pale slab of meat with one long bone.

"What is this?" asked one of my friends.

"The special veal chop," said the food deliverer.

"But I ordered rack of lamb," my friend said. I had heard him.

"Yes," said the deliverer. "That's rack of lamb."

My friend pressed: which was it?

"It's the special rack-of-lamb veal chop," the deliverer said, at which point we sought deliverance from him and searched for our frequently vanishing waiter, whom I had come to think of as the bucatini Houdini.

[NYT]

"Letting Your Family In On Your Therapy," WSJ, 7/17/07:

When Tony Fama worries about recurring sadness or has questions about antidepressants, he calls a psychiatrist — his wife's.

Mr. Fama's wife, Helen Kraljic, suffers from bipolar disorder, and he calls her doctor frequently if she seems to be manic or having side effects from her medication. Often, Mr. Fama sits in on his wife's therapy sessions, offering his opinions. Sometimes, he talks to the doctor about his own struggles as caregiver.

"Clinic Treats Mental Illness by Enlisting the Family," NYT, 6/4/08:

It was a depressive swing that brought Helen Kraljic Fama and her husband to Beth Israel's clinic, on 17th Street near First Avenue, nearly 30 years after Ms. Fama suffered her first bout with the disease.

Ms. Fama, 50, who was once a bookkeeper and a cashier, said her manic episodes include an obsession with numbers, which she feels are friendly to her. ("I always brag that she scored a perfect 800 on her math SAT," said her husband, Anthony P. Fama, 60.)

We won't belabor the point; you can read the stories for yourself. Pay particular attention to the similarities in the sourcing. Note to the NYT: You're pissing off your competitors! Probably not a good idea, considering the economic climate at the moment. We beg you, follow the rules by only stealing from the other 99% of media outlets in America.

[Previously]

Shrill condemnations and embarrassing leaked documents are giving way to acknowledgments of progress — and, in the case of Wal-Mart Watch, free advice.

"It's fair to say we have been less in-your-face," said David Nassar, the executive director of Wal-Mart Watch, which had hammered the company in stinging newspaper advertisements and provocative reports with titles like "Shameless: How Wal-Mart Bullies Its Way Into Communities Across America."

The mellowing of the anti-Wal-Mart movement is an unexpected development for the retailer, whose public image and share price were bruised by the well-financed union campaigns. On Friday, when the chain holds its shareholder meeting in Arkansas, investors are likely to applaud Wal-Mart for fending off these detractors.

What we need now is an activist group that condemns Wal-Mart just for homogenizing the American landscape. The company can have no defense for that.

Until then, Wake Up Wal-Mart is still making propaganda videos like this, which will have to suffice:

[pic via Blizzmax]

National Review says on its blog The Corner:

The similarities are striking, the most egregious of which is a device Labash uses throughout his piece. He repeatedly breaks up anecdotes with "Stone's Rules" — things like "Admit nothing, deny everything, launch counterattack," as well as "White shirt + tan face = confidence."

Toobin does the exact same thing throughout his profile, even including the same mathematical equation and, like Labash, basing his conclusion on yet another rule. The cover art on The Weekly Standard is a photo of Roger Stone with his shirt off, showing his Nixon back tattoo. Whaddayaknow? In The New Yorker's print edition (not online), they run a photo of Stone with his shirt off, flashing his back tattoo.

We can't quite agree with this. Stone's tattoo is probably the most obvious photo of him for any profile. And as for "Stone's Rules"—they're really quotable slogans that the man has honed to a fine point over decades of working with the media. To expect any profiler not to quote them is ludicrous. But judge for yourself: Toobin's profile is here. The Weekly Standard's Matt Labash profile is here.

(Further story-stealing sensitivity: a tipster accuses the New York Times of ripping off a year-old Washington Post story today. The Post's piece was on shrinking portion sizes at restaurants; the Times today talks about portion sizes as well as rising prices as a byproduct of increasing food costs. Again, we have to say this one is clean. The Times' story was broader, and has a solid current news peg. Disagreements in the comments, please.)

[pic via NYer]

For all of their ridiculous economic power—which is truly scary to contemplate—PE firms are essentially made up of people who want to have their cake (MONEY) and eat it too (STILL BE POPULAR WITH THE PLEBES). Or, they just want to make their money and retire with it in total anonymity. The SEIU draws attention to them, and as unsophisticated as the protests may seem (although they make some good points), they succeed just by getting people to think about private equity. Which is more than most people do in the first place. No billionaire really wants to explain to the public why he pays to lobby for massive tax loopholes for himself.

"We think the buyout industry and the way it operates are systematic of what's wrong in this economy," said Stephen Lerner, director of the union's private equity project. "We want to make them responsible corporate citizens."

The private equity industry counters that the union is using street theater and overheated rhetoric to bolster its membership rolls.

"They're using a battering ram of increasingly extreme and hysterical attacks," said Douglas Lowenstein, the president of the Private Equity Council, an industry lobbying group. "They've undermined any opportunity for constructive dialogue."

Private equity firms should really figure out how to handle this stuff better. They'll never win when their spokesman is just another white dude in a suit in an office in Washington, and the SEIU's mascot is Lewis Black, who's starring in this propaganda video for the cause:

[NYT; pic via SEIU]

The Golden Rule

Media outlets can only steal outright from other media outlets that are not their direct competitors, and do not fall in their same class. First-class outlets: National TV news networks (including the big three on cable), the top five national newspapers, top-level weekly news magazines, and a select few websites like Drudge. Second-class outlets: Niche TV networks, local TV news affiliates, smaller metro papers, smaller but still well-respected news magazines, well-known internet news operations that don't fall in the top handful. Third-class outlets: Trade magazines, niche magazines, smaller local papers, niche internet news sites. Fourth-class outlets: Others.
When stealing from one's own class, it must be acknowledged that you are doing so, and that you have been scooped.

Explanation

The Times' mistake was stealing from the WSJ, another major paper in its same class. Had they stolen their story from, say, a trade magazine, it would have been perfectly acceptable. Likewise, a trade magazine can steal from the Times, and a tacit acknowledgment or small link is fine. If a trade magazine were to steal from a directly competing trade magazine, it would be a shameful theft.

Everyone understands these rules. Big papers, because of their sheer resources, provide most of our news, period. Everybody else follows their lead when dealing with major news. Lower-level outlets are expected to give their own take on the news of the day. Papers like the Times set the agenda; everybody else feeds off of it. This is fine. A local paper can put a local angle on a story that originated in a national newspaper; a trade magazine can put an industry-specific angle on the same story. Neither need feel guilty. If the Times picks up a story from a small paper, they will likely put so much re-reporting into it that their version is far deeper than the original. To the extent that you steal original material from direct scoops, though, you must give acknowledgment to the original scooper.

Television news operations are less likely to give credit to print outlets that break stories; of course, TV news produces visual packages for their stories, which they can argue constitute a completely new story. Again, the most stringent need for acknowledgment comes with direct competitors. If one news network steals an original story from another, it must explicitly credit it. Inter-platform theft is a looser matter.

Examples Of How To Steal Properly

Newspapers
Direct competitor: "In a story first reported by the LA Times, scientists have confirmed that Scott McClellan is an android."
Other: "Scott McClellan is an android, scientists confirmed today."

Magazines
Direct competitor: "Is your kid drinking Lysol to get 'high?' It's a phenomenon that's been reported by Time and others, but...."
Others: "Your child may be drinking Lysol right this minute. To get high!"

Blogs
Direct competitor: "Hipsters eat magic fruit, then eat each other. [Curbed]"
Others: "Crazy Williamsburg hipsters are berry-munching madmen—with a taste for flesh!"

Television
Direct competitor: "CBS News has reported that Hillary Clinton is dropping out and joining a nunnery."
Others: "Rumors have emerged that Hillary Clinton may be dropping out to join a nunnery."

See how simple?

The Penalties

Those who foolishly flout this rule by stealing the work of other reporters in their same class with no credit can expect to be ostracized at media parties; have vicious gossip about them leaked to Gawker; and, one day down the road, to be the subject of a gratuitous backhanded smear in the outlet that they stole from (this goes double if you're dealing with tabloids).
Reporters are small people, and we never forget an insult. Play smart.

[pic via Corbis]

General Motors, maker of the Hummer, is the "exclusive automobile sponsor" of the channel, Discovery announced last month. G.M.'s Chevrolet brand is a "premier sponsor" of "Greensburg," a documentary series about a tornado-damaged town that is rebuilding with an eye to the environment. As part of the deal, G.M. vehicles will be integrated into some programs, and Discovery will produce short-form videos about the company.

Green!

The channel's schedule is star-studded, with the celebrity chef Emeril Lagasse hosting a cooking show featuring organic and locally grown foods, and the "Entourage" star Adrian Grenier living a green life. "Hollywood Green," a weekly entertainment magazine, will showcase earth-conscious celebrities.

Because you're lazy!

Discovery's research, conducted last year, identified 40 percent to 50 percent of the United States population as "armchair environmentalists." Mr. Carr calls the channel's target audience "bright greens," people who are motivated by the idea that they can help the planet.

[NYT]

In a lengthy post this month dedicated to chewing out the Times for its criticism of him, Honan writes:

Why, this may shock you, but here's the thing: Cocaine is exceptionally fun. LSD? It genuinely alters your perception. I'm not suggesting that you do either of these. Both conspired, unsuccessfully, to kill me and I would no more try either today than I would attempt to put a rattlesnake in my anus. I am older and wiser and recognize that the benefits are not worth the risks. Despite my swinging-dick persona on Twitter, I'm more this guy than that guy. Drugs, especially highly addictive ones like speed or cocaine or heroin or ones with powerful psychological components like LSD, tend to not be worth the price you pay for their use.

We agree! But since the Wired article was all about stimulating brain drugs, the writer's own history might have been worth a mention—particularly after it turned into a controversy, because it serves to strengthen his case against the Times' criticisms, not weaken it. We're on your side, Mat!

And what exactly does a "swinging-dick persona on Twitter" talk about?

"To Make Lemons Into Lemonade, Try 'Miracle Fruit,'" WSJ, 3/30/07:

ARLINGTON, Va. — At a party here one recent Friday, Jacob Grier stood on a chair, pulled out a plastic bag full of small berries, and invited everyone to eat one apiece. "Make sure it coats your tongue," he said.

Mr. Grier's guests were about to go under the influence of miracle fruit, a slightly tart West African berry with a strange property: For about an hour after you eat it, everything sour tastes sweet.

Within minutes of consuming the berries, guests were devouring lime wedges as if they were candy. Straight lemon juice went down like lemonade, and goat cheese tasted as if it was "covered in powdered sugar," said one astonished partygoer. A rich stout beer seemed "like a milkshake," said another.

"The Miracle Fruit, a Tease for the Taste Buds," NYT, 5/28/08:

CARRIE DASHOW dropped a large dollop of lemon sorbet into a glass of Guinness, stirred, drank and proclaimed that it tasted like a "chocolate shake."

Nearby, Yuka Yoneda tilted her head back as her boyfriend, Albert Yuen, drizzled Tabasco sauce onto her tongue. She swallowed and considered the flavor: "Doughnut glaze, hot doughnut glaze!"

They were among 40 or so people who were tasting under the influence of a small red berry called miracle fruit at a rooftop party in Long Island City, Queens, last Friday night. The berry rewires the way the palate perceives sour flavors for an hour or so, rendering lemons as sweet as candy.

WSJ:

Scientists say a protein in the fruit works by binding to taste buds and altering the tongue's so-called sweet receptors to activate when sour foods are eaten. A French explorer known as the Chevalier des Marchais first encountered the effects in 1725 somewhere in West Africa, says Adam Gollner, who is writing a book about miracle fruit. The chevalier saw villagers eat the berry before consuming gruel and palm wine, so he gave it a try himself.

In 1852, a British surgeon described the fruit in a pharmaceutical journal as a "miraculous" berry. In the early 20th century, a renowned botanist for the U.S. Department of Agriculture, David Fairchild, was the first person to bring miracle fruit from Africa to the U.S., says Linda Bartoshuk, a professor at the Center for Smell and Taste at the University of Florida.

NYT:

The miracle fruit, Synsepalum dulcificum, is native to West Africa and has been known to Westerners since the 18th century. The cause of the reaction is a protein called miraculin, which binds with the taste buds and acts as a sweetness inducer when it comes in contact with acids, according to a scientist who has studied the fruit, Linda Bartoshuk at the University of Florida's Center for Smell and Taste. Dr. Bartoshuk said she did not know of any dangers associated with eating miracle fruit.

During the 1970s, a ruling by the Food and Drug Administration dashed hopes that an extract of miraculin could be sold as a sugar substitute. In the absence of any plausible commercial application, the miracle fruit has acquired a bit of a cult following.

Sina Najafi, editor in chief of the art magazine Cabinet, has featured miracle fruits at some of the publication's events. At a party in London last October, the fruit, he said, "had people testifying like some baptismal thing."

The berries were passed out last week at a reading of "The Fruit Hunters," a new book by Adam Leith Gollner with a chapter about miracle fruit.

(PS: The Times linked to three different websites in its online story, so they can't argue that they couldn't even give a link to the WSJ.)

The miracle berries go for $2-3 each. But a single one makes everything in the world taste sweet. And the tasting parties have barely concealed orgiastic overtones:

He believes that the best way to encounter the fruit is in a group. "You need other people to benchmark the experience," he said. At his first party, a small gathering at his apartment in January, guests murmured with delight as they tasted citrus wedges and goat cheese. Then things got trippy.

"You kept hearing 'oh, oh, oh,' " he said, and then the guests became "literally like wild animals, tearing apart everything on the table."

"It was like no holds barred in terms of what people would try to eat, so they opened my fridge and started downing Tabasco and maple syrup," he said.

[NYT. You can buy em wholesale here.]

[NYT]

There's nothing wrong with nature writing, per se. But Verlyn's overwrought prose most often makes me think of a male Martha Stewart. Possibly one who smokes a lot of weed. Here is but a brief sampling of the man's whimsy:

"Officially Spring":

This is a deeply contentious time of year. The rains have torn out the road without fully melting the soil. What the calendar promises, the day itself retracts. Unless you knew better, you'd hardly believe there was the readiness of spring to be found anywhere. The witch hazel