I can't feel too worked up about Drudge "outing" Prince Harry's presence in Afghanistan. The story evidently was first leaked by an Australian magazine, which was then picked up by a German newspaper. At that point it was probably inevitable that the cover would be blown, and it just happened to be Drudge who did it.
It's also worth pointing out that Drudge presumably had no agreement with the MoD to not publish the story. It's also also worth pointing out that at the end of the day we're talking about a single soldier whose presence is probably not critical to the overall mission. And since Harry has now been recalled, there's no reason to think that he or his fellow soldiers were placed in particular danger by this leak.
There's a bigger question here, anyway, about the circumstances where it is appropriate for the media to make common cause with the military, and where it is not. Arguably, there's not a particular need for the public to know every action of the princes, but Harry is third in line* for the throne. If he'd been killed in action, and that had been how the world found out where he was, how would the British media have justified not reporting his deployment in the first place? It's certainly hard to justify on a security basis: If the concern is that Harry would be a target and place himself and those around him in danger, the solution is simple: Don't send him. That's what happened when he was almost sent to Iraq. It's unfair to Harry, of course, but should the media bend over backwards for the military for his sole benefit?
As a rule, the press should be extremely reluctant to get into bed with the military on when and how to report, reserving that for only the most clear instances when the media holding off on a story is critical and for the public good. It's hard to see how this case qualifies.
* Corrected from "second in line."
Friday, February 29, 2008
Sunday, February 24, 2008
There Are No Small Trophies
Okay, it's only the Carling Cup, but it's Tottenham's first silverware in nine years (which is, to be honest, longer than I've been a fan). It doesn't hurt that they finished their Cup run by beating Arsenal and Chelsea in succesion. So does it matter that even past Cup winners don't think too much of the accomplishment? No it does not.
Go Spurs!
Go Spurs!
Thursday, February 21, 2008
If Bart Had Been Named Petition to Redress Grievances Simpson, This Would Not Happen
Apparently people find it easier to name Simpson family members than the "five freedoms" of the First Amendment to the Constitution. Of course, remembering five names repeated ad nauseum in pop culture is probably easier than remembering five concepts that might appear in a few history or civics classes in high school or college, so the result here is ... not that surprising.
For the record, I remembered four of the five freedoms (petition to redress grievances got me) and all five Simpsons. Take that, higher learning!
For the record, I remembered four of the five freedoms (petition to redress grievances got me) and all five Simpsons. Take that, higher learning!
Monday, February 18, 2008
Dear Diary: Braaaaains!
Back in the early '90s Roger Waters put out an album called Amused to Death. Like most of Waters's oeuvre, the album dealt with issues of alienation; in this he frets about the powerful technologies massed in the hands of a species not far removed from climbing out of the primodial soup: tribal warfare on a global scale, thanks to smart technology, delivered to your television 24 hours a day. Violence shades into entertainment; entertainment into violence. People still ruled by primitive gods at "command of a nuclear submarine."
If Waters is disturbed by humanity at a macro level, George Romero, in Diary of the Dead, has similar concerns on a micro scale: technology alienating individuals from each other, and from life, and death. This makes sense: in Waters's time the touchstones were MTV and CNN, worldwide corporate emblems of 24-hour television, infotainment. Now technologies have become personalized: YouTube, MySpace, iPods. The new media of the internet has created an army of citizen journalists.
If only Romero had grappled with the nuances of the Internet Age; instead his latest film comes across as redundant, inchoate ramblings. It's too little sharp social commentary and too much "You kids get off my damn lawn! And take your Internets with you!" Diary of the Dead is the stitched-together video of a film student, Jason, caught up in the first night of the rising of the dead: his only sure course of action being to record what's happening and upload it to his MySpace page (and taking note of the number of hits). His girlfriend Debra is frustrated by finding herself at the business end of a camera at all times, but she seems resigned to it more often than she fights it. And we know she's given over completely because it's her voice narrating the film.
Indeed, the first-person perspective isn't just alienating for the characters, it's alienating for the audience. Much of the violence and horror (there is actually not that much for a Romero film) is antiseptic. It's partly the POV, and partly that in creating characters distant from each other, Romero neglects to create characters interesting to watch on their own merits. The nerd, the pretty Texan (with an implausible accent), the alcoholic professor, all types lined up to play their parts. It's hard to blame the technology for not caring when they meet their respective fates: it's that they're boring.
Romero does have an argument, of course. He's not the only one to observe the potentially degrading effects of a world that interfaces through screens. But the nuances of the debate are given short shrift. When Jason argues that his videos might help people, Debra puts him down shortly by saying only that he always has an argument for what he does. It would be a good argument if he believed it, and that the camera was not a shield for him from the world dying around him, but he doesn't and it is. A video uploaded from Japan shows a woman giving advice on how to deal with the dead. But it's ultimately meaningless. Whatever valuable information there is to exchange is going to be lost on people who can't communicate with the person next to them.
And somewhere in there is an interesting film, but it's not this film, because (much like Waters, actually) Romero can't resist driving the point home. The scenes of Jason pissing off his friends by training his camera on them are repeated ad nauseum, as are Debra's observations about his disconnection. Other commentary, such as those aimed at the government and old media for failings in Iraq and New Orleans, are random and obvious. The film never feels like a coherent piece, but more like the frustrations of someone who knows things have gone wrong, but can't quite put their finger on just why, or how.
If Waters is disturbed by humanity at a macro level, George Romero, in Diary of the Dead, has similar concerns on a micro scale: technology alienating individuals from each other, and from life, and death. This makes sense: in Waters's time the touchstones were MTV and CNN, worldwide corporate emblems of 24-hour television, infotainment. Now technologies have become personalized: YouTube, MySpace, iPods. The new media of the internet has created an army of citizen journalists.
If only Romero had grappled with the nuances of the Internet Age; instead his latest film comes across as redundant, inchoate ramblings. It's too little sharp social commentary and too much "You kids get off my damn lawn! And take your Internets with you!" Diary of the Dead is the stitched-together video of a film student, Jason, caught up in the first night of the rising of the dead: his only sure course of action being to record what's happening and upload it to his MySpace page (and taking note of the number of hits). His girlfriend Debra is frustrated by finding herself at the business end of a camera at all times, but she seems resigned to it more often than she fights it. And we know she's given over completely because it's her voice narrating the film.
Indeed, the first-person perspective isn't just alienating for the characters, it's alienating for the audience. Much of the violence and horror (there is actually not that much for a Romero film) is antiseptic. It's partly the POV, and partly that in creating characters distant from each other, Romero neglects to create characters interesting to watch on their own merits. The nerd, the pretty Texan (with an implausible accent), the alcoholic professor, all types lined up to play their parts. It's hard to blame the technology for not caring when they meet their respective fates: it's that they're boring.
Romero does have an argument, of course. He's not the only one to observe the potentially degrading effects of a world that interfaces through screens. But the nuances of the debate are given short shrift. When Jason argues that his videos might help people, Debra puts him down shortly by saying only that he always has an argument for what he does. It would be a good argument if he believed it, and that the camera was not a shield for him from the world dying around him, but he doesn't and it is. A video uploaded from Japan shows a woman giving advice on how to deal with the dead. But it's ultimately meaningless. Whatever valuable information there is to exchange is going to be lost on people who can't communicate with the person next to them.
And somewhere in there is an interesting film, but it's not this film, because (much like Waters, actually) Romero can't resist driving the point home. The scenes of Jason pissing off his friends by training his camera on them are repeated ad nauseum, as are Debra's observations about his disconnection. Other commentary, such as those aimed at the government and old media for failings in Iraq and New Orleans, are random and obvious. The film never feels like a coherent piece, but more like the frustrations of someone who knows things have gone wrong, but can't quite put their finger on just why, or how.
Monday, February 4, 2008
My Alternate Title for This Blog Was "The Garo Yepremian Experience"
In the week running up to the Super Bowl, Mike & Mike did a "Greatest Moments in Super Bowl History" list. It was pretty terrible, if only for two reasons. First, they would include stuff like "Joe Montana's game-winning drive in Super Bowl 23." Yeah, that's not a "moment." (ESPN always does this sort of thing; they'll have "Plays of the Day" and #4 will be, like, three dunks. Just pick one, jackasses.) Second, and much worse, one of the top five "moments" (it was either 2 or 3) was Dolphins kicker Garo Yepremian's blooper interception (Damn!) that was returned for Washington's only score of the game in Super Bowl 7. Not only was it a bad play, it didn't affect the outcome: the Dolphins still won (and finished 17-0, as we are forever reminded). So, in the spirit of making a better list, and with the unbelievable play from last night's game still fresh, I give you The Ten Greatest Plays in Super Bowl History. The only rules are: it has to be great (no Leon Lett-Don Beebe plays here, no Scott Norwood either) and it has to be a play. I'll put it in context, and plays more meaningful to the outcome get more weight, but it has to be a single play.
(It helps if you imagine these being read by John Facenda.)
The Ten Greatest Plays in Super Bowl History (now with 10% less Yepremian)
1. Mike Jones's tackle of Kevin Dyson at the one-yard line to preserve the Rams' 23-16 win over the Titans in Super Bowl 34. A simple play, but great because of its importance. Mike Jones initially tracked the tight end coming down the seam, but peeled back to tackle Dyson as he caught the ball.
2. David Tyree's catch after Eli Manning's escape in Super Bowl 42, on the way to the winning touchdown. One could make a pretty good case for this being number one. Eli Manning eludes a couple of Patriots, then fires the ball downfield to Tyree, who catches the ball against his helmet, then keeps it from hitting the ground by what looked like centimeters, all while Rodney Harrison tries to wrestle the ball away. Only reason it's not number one is the Giants still had to go down and score.
3. Joe Montana's game-winning pass to John Taylor in Super Bowl 23. See? One play. By itself, not spectacular, but it distilled the essence of the '80s 49er teams. Who I hate, by the way.
4. John Riggins 43-yard touchdown run on 4th-and-1 against Miami in Super Bowl 17. The Redskins were down 17-13; they not only convert, they take a lead they never give up. And Sandra Day loosened up a little.
5. Dan Bunz tackles Charles Alexander on a swing pass at the one-yard line on 3rd-and-goal to preserve the 49ers' 20-7 lead over the Bengals in Super Bowl 16, part of a defensive stand that began at the three-yard line. The Bengals went for it on fourth and failed to score. They did eventually make it 20-14, but the stand blunted their momentum and they couldn't catch up.
6. Lynn Swann's catch (at 6:27) in Super Bowl 10 in the Steelers' win over the Cowboys. It should be remembered that the Steelers didn't actually score after this catch. But it was a spectacular catch, and it got the Steelers out from deep in their end on a third down.
7. Jim O'Brien's 32-yard kick to win Super Bowl 5. O'Brien was a rookie, and had made 56% of his kicks that year. The league average was 59.4%, so field goals were not gimmes, not even 32-yarders. And it was the first last-minute game-winner in Super Bowl history, so that's pretty cool.
8. Max McGee's 37-yard touchdown catch in Super Bowl 1. It was the first touchdown in Super Bowl history, McGee was legendarily hung over, and it was an excellent one-handed catch. Way to go, old drunk guy!
9. Marcus Allen's 74-yard touchdown run in Super Bowl 18. It's a pretty good run, and it makes Todd Christensen all verklempt (we miss John Facenda too, buddy), but on the other hand, the Raiders were already destroying the Redskins, so this was just icing.
10. Ken Norton Jr. stuffs Kenneth Davis in Super Bowl 27. Okay, this game was a blowout. And I'm a Cowboys fan. But hear me out. Dallas led, 14-7, but the Bills had 3rd and goal from like six inches away. Davis had a clean hole to the end zone, Jim Kelly had his arms up celebrating, and Norton flat stoned Davis. The Bills went for it on 4th and goal, and Thomas Everett intercepted Kelly in the end zone. If Davis scores, maybe it's a different game. I think I've been pretty restrained with the Cowboys here, so give me this one.
(It helps if you imagine these being read by John Facenda.)
The Ten Greatest Plays in Super Bowl History (now with 10% less Yepremian)
1. Mike Jones's tackle of Kevin Dyson at the one-yard line to preserve the Rams' 23-16 win over the Titans in Super Bowl 34. A simple play, but great because of its importance. Mike Jones initially tracked the tight end coming down the seam, but peeled back to tackle Dyson as he caught the ball.
2. David Tyree's catch after Eli Manning's escape in Super Bowl 42, on the way to the winning touchdown. One could make a pretty good case for this being number one. Eli Manning eludes a couple of Patriots, then fires the ball downfield to Tyree, who catches the ball against his helmet, then keeps it from hitting the ground by what looked like centimeters, all while Rodney Harrison tries to wrestle the ball away. Only reason it's not number one is the Giants still had to go down and score.
3. Joe Montana's game-winning pass to John Taylor in Super Bowl 23. See? One play. By itself, not spectacular, but it distilled the essence of the '80s 49er teams. Who I hate, by the way.
4. John Riggins 43-yard touchdown run on 4th-and-1 against Miami in Super Bowl 17. The Redskins were down 17-13; they not only convert, they take a lead they never give up. And Sandra Day loosened up a little.
5. Dan Bunz tackles Charles Alexander on a swing pass at the one-yard line on 3rd-and-goal to preserve the 49ers' 20-7 lead over the Bengals in Super Bowl 16, part of a defensive stand that began at the three-yard line. The Bengals went for it on fourth and failed to score. They did eventually make it 20-14, but the stand blunted their momentum and they couldn't catch up.
6. Lynn Swann's catch (at 6:27) in Super Bowl 10 in the Steelers' win over the Cowboys. It should be remembered that the Steelers didn't actually score after this catch. But it was a spectacular catch, and it got the Steelers out from deep in their end on a third down.
7. Jim O'Brien's 32-yard kick to win Super Bowl 5. O'Brien was a rookie, and had made 56% of his kicks that year. The league average was 59.4%, so field goals were not gimmes, not even 32-yarders. And it was the first last-minute game-winner in Super Bowl history, so that's pretty cool.
8. Max McGee's 37-yard touchdown catch in Super Bowl 1. It was the first touchdown in Super Bowl history, McGee was legendarily hung over, and it was an excellent one-handed catch. Way to go, old drunk guy!
9. Marcus Allen's 74-yard touchdown run in Super Bowl 18. It's a pretty good run, and it makes Todd Christensen all verklempt (we miss John Facenda too, buddy), but on the other hand, the Raiders were already destroying the Redskins, so this was just icing.
10. Ken Norton Jr. stuffs Kenneth Davis in Super Bowl 27. Okay, this game was a blowout. And I'm a Cowboys fan. But hear me out. Dallas led, 14-7, but the Bills had 3rd and goal from like six inches away. Davis had a clean hole to the end zone, Jim Kelly had his arms up celebrating, and Norton flat stoned Davis. The Bills went for it on 4th and goal, and Thomas Everett intercepted Kelly in the end zone. If Davis scores, maybe it's a different game. I think I've been pretty restrained with the Cowboys here, so give me this one.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)