For some, a form of news delivery that did not have to be retrieved from the bushes every morning, and was Stuart Scott-free, to boot had a certain appeal, and in some cases, well-written, informative and entertaining blogs became news vehicles in and of themselves. In some cases, representatives of older forms of media freaked out.
But not all. If the Bissinger/Leitch contretemps is one facet of the uneasy coexistence of blogs and older media, the NYT's recent emphasis on blogging is another. On one hand, many Times staffers are now responsible for their own blogs, above and beyond their reporting duties. On the other The Gould piece is the most prominent example, but last Sunday's piece on hating Park Slope was essentially a print media response on blog reactions to a neighborhood. If one function of blogs criticize newspapers, and another is to aggregate news on topics of particular interest, what happens to this relation when newspapers start covering blogs instead of the news? As Gawker and Radar offer various metalevels of coverage of the NYT coverage of the story about them, its hard not to feel as if the whole shebang is in danger of collapsing into a black hole of metadiscourse from which no light can escape.
The Olsens' rep is right, for once.It is ridiculous. But not in the sense of "impossible for it to be true." Instead "ridiculous" in the sense of "presumptious." The Olsens looked healthier than is skinny, last I checked. As higher education probably has a higher number, if not a greater percentage, of young women with eating disorders, Fessering pretty frequently includes encounters with folks in the M-K&O demo who appear to be making self-destructive choices, so I understand the impulse.* But it's the barista who gets the yellow card here. Evidently, for women, being famous is like being pregnant, in that you lose autonomy over your body. (The other day, a visibly pregnant colleague was scolded by a student for drinking coffee. On a campus with a student population that favors "Sir" and "M'am," as forms of address, I cannot imagine another situation where a student would feel free to address a professor thus.) I don't defend starving oneself to death as a lifestyle choice, but I do think that your dress size does not determine if you are entitled to have a server show you the courtesy of giving you what you ordered. By way of comparison, it's hard to imagine a bartender bragging about slipping the odd O'Doul's to Dylan Thomas, or a pharmacist filling Heath Ledger's Vicodin scrip with Flinstone Chewables.
*Unfortunately, there is sweet fuck-all for the Cod to do, as the path to academic survival does not involve much conversation with students about their bodies. London Broil and Lilian Gish is about the limit.
Maybe the second and third most popular things on the internet. And like a complicated math equation with funny superscript numbers and stuff, the world of meat and the world of sports intersect in two unexpected places -- first, Alonzo Spellman Clown Burgers. You will find no mimes in these, as they are made of 100% clown meat.* Second, kosher hotdogs at Fenway. From a machine. Until The Sausage Guy goes to yeshiva, I guess the Glatt Sox Nation will have to settle. (Via The Meat.)
*I am hoping "made from 100% clown meat" catches on as a phrase.