Full circle!

I’ve long goofed that the Wall Street Journal’s standard headshot drawings look like they’ve been put through The Drew Friedmanizer. Today, the WSJ has a headshot by none other than. . . Drew Friedman!

That sad part of my “Drew Friedmanizer” reference is that Mr. Friedman hasn’t used his pointillist drawing style for more than a decade. But far be it from me to develop new material!

Anyway, the article is an interview with AT&T CEO Ralph de la Vega about his view of the future of wireless (centered on the iPhone, of course).

Taleb and Taliban

I enjoyed this profile of Nassim Nicholas Taleb by Bryan Appleyard. I haven’t read his books yet, but I’m sympathetic to his notion that the radically unpredictable will trump your bitch-ass plans no matter how farsighted you think you are:

Last May, Taleb published The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable. It said, among many other things, that most economists, and almost all bankers, are subhuman and very, very dangerous. They live in a fantasy world in which the future can be controlled by sophisticated mathematical models and elaborate risk-management systems. Bankers and economists scorned and raged at Taleb. He didn’t understand, they said. A few months later, the full global implications of the sub-prime-driven credit crunch became clear. The world banking system still teeters on the edge of meltdown. Taleb had been vindicated. “It was my greatest vindication. But to me that wasn’t a black swan; it was a white swan. I knew it would happen and I said so. It was a black swan to Ben Bernanke [the chairman of the Federal Reserve]. I wouldn’t use him to drive my car. These guys are dangerous. They’re not qualified in their own field.”

Reading the profile reminded me of a post I wrote about Ahmed Rashid’s book Taliban. I wrote

The book is also a product of its time, of course. One of the “problems” with Taliban is that oil was priced around $13/barrel in the years leading up to its publication. That fact was a key to his understanding of Russian and Iranian policy, and it’s completely understandable; who would even entertain the notion that oil would someday trade for 5x that price?

Of course, the black swan that I missed was that oil would soon trade for TEN TIMES that price. The profile is filled with some pretty neat anecdotes about the way our sophisticated models — especially the financial ones — can’t stand up to reality. Or, as Mr. Appleyard puts it:

He doesn’t make predictions, he insults people paid to do so by telling them to get another job. All forecasts about the oil price, for example, are always wrong, though people keep doing it.

Condescend much?

A few days ago, Sam Zell’s Tribune Group announced cutback plans at its newspapers. The announcement sparked an uproar because it mentioned the number of pages produced annually by reporters at different papers. The idea was to contrast how writers at some papers — the Baltimore Sun and the Hartford Courant — each averaged 300+ pages a year, while those at the LA Times produced an average of only 51 pages a year. The Tribune’s goal is to reach the magical 50-50 advertising/editorial ratio (which I always manage to miss in my own magazine, coming closer to a 43/57 split. Seriously. I keep track of this stuff).

The rationale as I understand it is that most newspapers are wasting their time and money on national and international news, given that most readers get that sort of news from the internet. Instead, the Trib plans to focus on local news. According to that NYTimes’ writeup:

In his note to employees, Mr. Zell wrote that Tribune papers would be redesigned, beginning with The Orlando Sentinel, on June 22. Surveys show readers want “maps, graphics, lists, ranking and stats,” he wrote. “We’re in the business of satisfying customers, and we will respond to what they say they want.”

I guess I get where they’re coming from, but I’ve never been a fan of the “shrink to grow” mentality. Cuts may lead to profitability, but they don’t usually create opportunities for growth.

Today, the Times followed up with analysis of the strategy, interviewing publishers and editors. Rather than quote from that, I’d like to share this passage from the NYObserver’s analysis of the Times’ analysis:

“Most readers of newspapers really only consume a small fraction of what the newspaper produces,” [Neuharth] said. “Can you give them the stuff they want, even though there’s less of it over all? I think you can.”

But then again, Neuharth is the founder of USA Today, so we can’t really take advice from that.

Vanity (press), thy name is Observer. Please keep in mind that this newspaper was losing $2 million annually before its purchase by Jared Kushner. No word on how much money it’s losing now.

Kushner’s dad recently served time in federal prison for tax evasion and campaign finance violations, as well as hiring a prostitute to seduce his sister’s husband, videotaping the hookup, and sending his sis a copy of the tape, in retaliation for her cooperation in an investigation of the aforementioned tax evasion and campaign finance violations.

USA Today isn’t hip or NYC-relevant like the Observer, but its ad revenue was up 2% in 1Q08, despite a drop in overall ad pages.

(Update! Here’s a big-ass interview with Jared Kushner, in which he says that the Observer’s revenues were up 61% in 1Q08. It’s privately held, so he could just be lying, or he could be inadvertently showing how truly disastrous the paper’s numbers were before. Anyway, here’s an excerpt —

People are hysterical about the death of newspapers and I would say they’re not dying, they’re just kind of reinventing themselves. What the ultimate body count is in reinvention is still to be determined, but the difference between a weekly and a daily is that my product is a country home, whereas a daily is your primary residence. You need a primary residence so people may choose one primary residence over the other, and internet and the newsprint to some degree are interchangeable for certain people. You’re only going to buy a country house if you know you’re going to use it. You’re only going to buy a country house if you want to go to it. You are only going to subscribe to the New York Observer if you’re going to make time to read it and if it adds something to your life that’s kind of special. The way I look at it is, there’s obviously a lot competing for readers’ attention these days, but the goal of the Observer is to be something very unique. It’s a hyper-unique product. I’d like to think that our editorial mission is to give our readers every week one or two things that they just can’t get anywhere else that would make them smile, or a little bit smarter. We have the smartest readership probably in the world of any publication.

— in which he ignores the definition of the word “unique”.)

What It Is: 6/9/08

What I’m reading: Netherland, by Joseph O’Neill. Bought via Kindle while our plane was at the gate on Sunday. I still gotta get around to that Kindle writeup, but one of the big items in the “PRO” column is the ability to buy a book whenever/wherever I want. Sure, buying a novel (sorta) about 9/11 while sitting on a plane may not have been too wise, but hey.

What I’m listening to: Some of my Mad Mix playlists, but I haven’t listened to a lot of music this week.

What I’m watching: Still the third season of The Wire.

What I’m drinking: Coors Light, sadly enough. It was the drink of choice at the birthday party we attended in Louisiana this weekend.

Where I’m going: NYC on Tuesday to interview some people from Pfizer for a feature in my mag.

What I’m happy about: Rufus and his dogsitters got along just fine this weekend. (But one of them dropped his iPhone and cracked the screen.)

What I’m sad about: I got my ass handed to me by 3 women at Wii Bowling.

What I’m pondering: How one of the partygoers this weekend managed to get tanked on Coors Light.

Rules for Rufus

Since we’re going away for 48 hours, a coworker of mine and his wife have volunteered to house-sit and take care of Rufus. I decided to write them a little guide to taking care of our boy. Because it grew so insanely out of hand, I decided to subject you guys to it, too.

Continue reading “Rules for Rufus”

Soft side successfully deployed, sir!

Now that Obama has crossed the delegate finish-line for the Democratic nomination . . . it’s time for the finger-pointing! Today’s WSJ has a fun article that details the mismanagement, backbiting and strategic idiocy of the Clinton campaign.

For a while now, I’ve been marveling over the Clinton camp’s contention that the Obama has had a free ride, what with his, um, being, half-black and having middle and last names that are markedly similar to those of America’s recent public enemies #1a and #1b.

Even more audacious, I thought, was the complaint that sexism was holding Sen. Clinton back. This was utter BS, as the candidate actually benefited from the lowered expectations the public has for women. Think back to the days before the New Hampshire primary in January, when Sen. Clinton cried on camera. It’s clear to me that if a male candidate had done such a thing, he’d be laughed off the campaign trail as a weakling (I deleted several much harsher terms before settling on that one).

(Oh, and her crying-jag lament of, “I have so many opportunities for this country. I just don’t want to see us fall backwards,” struck me as a really chilling choice of words.)

The WSJ article is a hoot, because it explores what a mixed-up organization Sen. Clinton assembled, in concert with her lack of understanding of the nomination process. One of my favorite lines was about the campaign’s chief strategist, Mark Penn (dutifully put through the Drew Friedmanizer, below):

Critics’ bigger complaint was that from the campaign’s start Mr. Penn had been its only pollster. Other campaigns typically use many pollsters to provide alternative views; Sen. Obama has had up to four. Ms. Solis Doyle says that throughout 2006 and 2007, she urged Sen. Clinton to add more. Sen. Clinton told advisers Mr. Penn is “brilliant,” and multiple pollsters would slow consensus on strategy.

But top aides chafed that Mr. Penn used his control of “the numbers” to win most disagreements. “He could go straight to the [former] president of the United States, who in turn got to Hillary,” says a senior strategist. “After a while, people just shrugged their shoulders and said, ‘Hey, look, this is how she wants her campaign run.'”

Mr. Penn defends his polling analyses, and counters that others were responsible for budgets and field operations. “The misleading thing here is, the title of chief strategist connotes that I was in charge of things,” he said. “It was a much more complex structure than any title connotes.”

Anyway, congrats are in order to Sen. Obama and his campaign. As Eddie Griffin recently put it (according to Page 6), “Barack Obama is about to get the Democratic nomination. It’ll be the first time in history that a black man beat a white woman and didn’t go to jail for it.”

John Clayton: pumping irony

Pacman Jones was “partially reinstated” by the NFL today, after getting suspended for being in or around a shooting a strip club that he may’ve caused by “making it rain,” (read: tossing wads of money in the air). For a full reinstatement, he’ll need to be on his somebody else’s best behavior through September 1. But that’s okay, reports ESPN’s John Clayton, because he has a new set of friends who can help him hew to the straight and narrow:

Since being traded to the Cowboys, Jones has tried to surround himself with a better support group. He’s befriended former Cowboys Michael Irvin and Deion Sanders.

That’s right. Michael “No contest to felony cocaine possession” Irvin and Deion “Michael Vick had a passion for dogfighting” Sanders.

They should just trade him to the Bengals already.

What It Is: 6/2/08

What I’m reading: Dæmonomania, by John Crowley, and some comics by Jason, the Norwegian cartoonist who’s currently doing the 1-pagers in the NYTimes magazine.

What I’m listening to: 5:55, by Charlotte Gainsbourg.

What I’m watching: The third season of The Wire, and Bowfinger.

What I’m drinking: Cherry Coke. It was that kinda weekend.

Where I’m going: On a quick trip to Louisiana next weekend, for Amy’s godson’s birthday.

What I’m happy about: That Rufus had a good time at the opening of the local farmers’ market.

What I’m sad about: Harvey Korman’s death. “That’s Hedley!” (oh, and Sydney Pollack and Yves Saint Laurent, too)

What I’m pondering: What intimation of mortality led me to go downstairs on Sunday morning and start pulling books from my library and putting them in the “I will never get around to reading this in my lifetime” pile. Later in the day, I found a neat article by Luc Sante about The Book Collection That Devoured My Life:

Over the years I’ve gotten used to the inevitable questions about my accumulation of books. No, I haven’t read all of them, nor do I intend to — in some cases that’s not the point. No, I’m not a lawyer (a question usually asked by couriers, back in the days of couriers). I do have a few hundred books that I reread or consult fairly regularly, and I have a lot of books pertaining to whatever current or future projects I have on the fire, and I have many, many books speculatively pointing toward some project that is still barely a gleam in my eye. I have a lot of books that I need for reference, especially now that I live 40 minutes away from the nearest really solid library. I have some books that exist in the same capacity as the more recondite tools in the chest of a good carpenter — you may not need it more than once in 20 years, but it’s awfully nice to have it there when you do. Primarily, though, books function as a kind of external hard drive for my mind — my brain isn’t big enough to do all the things it wants or needs to do without help.

Doc Bruce Banner, belted by cheap hookers

Leaving the supermarket this evening, I noticed a display of toys for the new Hulk movie. I was disappointed that they didn’t have a Tim Roth action figure, so I could dress him in a miniature leather coat like in Little Odessa.

Luckily, I noticed that they had the next best thing: Mega Clap Hulk.

That text on the bottom left reads, “PRESS BUTTON FOR THE MEGA CLAP ATTACK!”, so maybe he goes whoring around behind Betty Ross’ back in the new movie. Or maybe she becomes the Harpy and infects him with gamma-chlamydia. Or maybe Hulk gets a little Bi-Beast-curious, and catches a dose during a meth-fueled weekend. I could go on all night with these jokes, but they’re not going to get any funnier.

Anyway, I’ve heard of funky side effects from STDs, but what is going on with those veins that are trying to escape from his crotch?

To be fair, I’m sure if I had a “MEGA CLAP ATTACK!”, my expression wouldn’t be much different than this: