As I reported here, the Los Angeles Times recently canceled its book section and its opinion section (which had been cohabiting like bad roommates recently anyway), the real estate section, the automotive section, and the magazine. While I was at the San Diego Comic-Con, the final Sunday Times with these sections appeared, wrapped with an editorial message that no one I know buys. To paraphrase:  “while we’re downsizing, we’re still going to be better than ever.” While acknowledging that it would be difficult for them to say anything else — other than the noble thing, like “This is a retreat and we’re saddened and ashamed” — this sentiment is so unbelievable it leaves my trust in the media even further diminished.

Tomorrow the first Sunday Times without all those sections will arrive on my doorstep. I’m not sure what I’m going to read in it. I suppose I’ll flip to the back of the front section to see what remains of Opinion, and I’ll take a look at the Calendar section now retitled “Arts & Books” to see how much book has squeezed out art, or vice versa. Or maybe I’ll subscribe to the Sunday New York Times, which has wisely done a major media buy in the area, aimed at people like me and like all the locals who’ve recently told me that if the LA Times doesn’t have a book section, it also won’t have them for long.

While we heretofore loyal readers scratch our heads and figure out how little newspaper still qualifies one as a major newspaper, we can take comfort in something new that the Los Angeles Times has added. That’s right — even in an age of cutbacks, they’re looking to expand coverage into vital new areas.

Click here for their new and much ballyhooed database of dog names in Los Angeles County.

It turns out that “Princess” is the most-registered dog name in Los Angeles County. And it turns out that there are 24 (!) other dogs in the County sharing the name of my dog, Gem.  I found this unsettling, knowing as I do that she is definitely one-of-a-kind, but was relieved to see that she’s the only Australian Shepherd in LA with that name. So I am vastly relieved.

I know that the LA Times’ new dog-name database will have snobs in other cities with other metropolitan daily newspapers howling in derision — people in cities like New York and Washington, DC — but I think they’re barking up the wrong tree. There are only so many dollars and man hours to go around at the LA Times. If I want to learn about books, I can walk into any mall and see what’s in that little window of the Borders Express, and if I want to know opinions about important issues, I can just listen to what the government tells me. But how else would I find out how popular my dog’s name is?

The slideshow at the bottom of this post may be the single best Powerpoint presentation I’ve ever seen. And it’s on something I care deeply about: the space program. You can look at it now and then come back up here, or read through and then watch it, but please: Watch it.

For those of my generation (either late Baby Boom or early Gen X, depending upon whom you read; let’s just say I’m a fan of both Nirvana and Carl Reiner), the space program was an important part of our lives, something that holds deep meaning and provided enormous benefit to humankind. I remember as a boy in kindergarten being led down to the auditorium to watch the first moonwalk on either of two tiny TV sets hung in the corners of the room. Now, thanks to technology developed to support space exploration, kids would be watching that broadcast on a jumbo screen or, ironically, on a tiny screen held in their hand. The space program gave us LED, LCD, transistor technology, X-ray machines, teflon, smoke detectors, microwave ovens, cellphones, and a lot more. Those of us who were around as these things came online remember life before them. And even if we don’t think about that, we might think about the admonishment of “Star Trek” to “boldly go where no man has gone before.”

The people who came after us, Gen Y, born between 1977 and 2000, care about none of this. These devices already exist. And how did they come to be? They think they were invented by cool startup companies (rather than, believe it or not, a government program responsible for the greatest cycle of invention in history). (And, on a side note, I stopped talking about Kirk and Spock years ago because my students don’t know which is which.)

Evidence of this ignorance and what results from it is everywhere. Who runs for Congress on a platform of support for NASA? Precisely one person recently — a friend of mine in Pasadena — and he lost. What is the level of public support for NASA? About zilch. Even while as a nation we’re concerned that we’re losing our high-tech edge to Asian nations (which we are), and we’re upset about a sagging economy without enough good-paying clean jobs — situations that space exploration would help solve. As I wrote about here, under item #5, I recently got to speak with a couple dozen NASA people in one afternoon. When I shared my enthusiasm for the space program, every one of them treated me like a rarely seen relative from Brigadoon and bemoaned the lack of awareness and respect for space science.

So: Here’s what I love about the presentation below. In 90 slides so simple, direct, and evocative that even one of these easily confused and distracted Gen Y’ers could follow it, four of their own generation lay out for NASA how the new storytelling had better work if space exploration is going to gain new investors. Here are the key takeaways (and take note, because to me they seem useful across the board in dealing with 8-to-31-year-olds):

1. The traditional communications hierarchy is dead. Given the new technological platforms — blogs, YouTube, IM’s, Twitter, etc. etc. — no one awaits Zeus’s thunderbolts. Everyone is part of the static. Either you allow a conversation, or no one is going to listen. This may seem annoying — and on many levels, it is — but it’s factual. In the age of three broadcast networks, some people even watched the Indian test pattern after hours. With all the choices and all the types of choices, no one needs to do that any more.
2. Gen Y is impatient. Even more impatient than I usually am. Even more impatient than you think you are. If they’re reading this post, they’ve probably already stopped because it seems too long.
3. “39% believe that nothing worthwhile has come out of NASA.” Lest you get pissed at Gen Y for this, it’s more appropriate to blame the messenger who delivered no message. And given that the mainstream media is lazy and prone to parrot whatever news it gets, blame clearly lies with a government program that hasn’t put out a good story about itself and is utterly clueless how to do so.

This last point is what cheers me about this presentation, drafted by four of these darn kids working on their own time. They’ve identified the communications problem, they offer advice, and the very nature of their presentation shows the style and impact of doing it right.

Now NASA ought to hire them to do it. Because whatever else NASA has them doing (evidently, they’re young NASA employees), this is more important right now.

| View | Upload your own

Glad I went to see Ricky Gervais tonight at the Kodak. He was howlingly funny — and helped me forget that I live in a city where the major metropolitan daily newspaper is about to be one without an opinion section, a magazine, or a book section.

Apparently, the last standalone section of the Los Angeles Times Book Review appears this July 27th. (While I’ll be at Comic Con — a place where one can still find books, and hear them talked about.) The Book Review — or, as I’ve been calling it while it existed albeit in a diminished state, The Book Area — was the one section I read every Sunday when I was in town. I also wrote about 10 reviews for it when I was actively freelancing in the mid 1990’s.

Editorial is getting deep cuts. But chin up, says California Editor David Lauter. Here’s an excerpt from his email Friday to the editorial staff:

So, as we move into the weekend, please remember that we’re going to have fewer people, but we’re not going to have lowered standards or baser ambitions. Our readers demand first-rate journalism, our skill and dedication give us the tools to deliver it. And that’s what we’re going to do — now and in the future.

As ever,
David

I believe this is known as “whistling past the graveyard.” It’s beyond me how one doesn’t lower standards, or sacrifice “first-rate journalism” when one suddenly has 150 fewer editorial positions. Let alone no book section.

One could ask, “What should he say?” How about saying, “We can’t continue to operate this way. If they want to have any product at all, the publisher and the owner need to stabilize the newspaper, rather than cut it.” But I guess that’s further evidence of my quaint notion that journalism is about, hey, speaking truth to power. If you’re going down anyway, at least retain your pride.

It seems to me that two news stories I’m following must be missing half the coverage. So I thought I’d supply what surely must be true, but somehow isn’t getting reported. And I’d put it in italics.

First, a little foreign news:

June 29 (Reuters) – Veteran Zimbabwean ruler Robert Mugabe has won the country’s single-candidate presidential run-off election, electoral authorities declared on Sunday. President George W. Bush on Saturday ordered U.S. sanctions against the “illegitimate” government of Zimbabwe, and called Friday’s run-off a “sham”.

In a related move, Mugabe called the 2000 and 2004 U.S. presidential elections “shams” and demanded an investigation into tampering and fraud in Florida and Ohio. He also ordered sanctions against the “illegitimate” U.S. government of “President” Bush.

And now, for something domestic (but with international implications):

Associated Press, July 1, 2008, SAN FRANCISCO — On his book-promotion stopover here, former White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan was squired around by a “literary escort,” a pleasant woman named Naomi who drives visiting authors to their speaking engagements in a blue convertible. There were no motorcades, no street closures, no Secret Service.

McClellan slept at a Marriott Hotel, a couple of notches down from the Beverly Wilshire, where he, President Bush and the rest of the White House entourage stayed when in Southern California.

It is a long way from the Oval Office, where McClellan once basked in the confidence of the president, to the book circuit, where he is delivering a sharp critique of that president.

But nearly a month after the explosive book’s release, McClellan seems comfortable in his new role, polishing his one-liners about Dick Cheney, relishing largely sympathetic audiences and accepting his exile from certain ex-colleagues.

From the lectern, McClellan is looser and funnier than he was in the hot glare of the White House press room.

It probably helps that his book tour has taken him to such “blue” cities as Santa Monica and Austin, Texas. In Seattle, a sold-out crowd of 850 gave him a standing ovation. In San Francisco, a liberal city Bush has never visited as president, McClellan was drowned out by applause as he said, “The war in Iraq was not absolutely necessary.”

McClellan has incorporated some crowd-pleasing titles of books he imagines his former White House comrades writing:

“The Lies I Told, to Whom and Why,” by Karl Rove.

“Well, Paaaaaardon Me!” by Scooter Libby.

The jokes loosen up a crowd of 550 San Franciscans in the middle of a workday — and appear to crack McClellan himself up. Then he moves into the serious part of what has become his “stump speech,” an overview of the book, “What Happened: Inside the Bush White House and Washington’s Culture of Deception.”

The book accuses Bush of orchestrating a “political propaganda campaign to sell the war to the American people,” trying to make the “WMD threat and the Iraqi connection to terrorism appear just a little more certain, a little less questionable than they were.”

Reading at times from prepared notes, McClellan acknowledges, as he does in the book, that he was swept away by trust for the president and the intelligence he assumed top national-security aides must have had.

After reflecting for many months after leaving the White House, “I realized how badly misplaced my trust was,” McClellan said.

McClellan then looked at his actual reflection in the mirror and imagined in one hand a check for $4 million, and in the other hand the blood of innocents from around the world. This did not crack himself up, but the money made it easier to ignore.

I owe a debt of gratitude to whoever close-captioned this Joe Cocker performance from Woodstock. I’ve always admired the performance, but now I know what he’s actually singing. You should check it out — because it’s nowhere near what you think.

The first issue of Southern California Review is out.

Contents of this new journal include my play “The Fifth Administration,” as well as… literary contributions by other people. I haven’t had a chance to read all of it yet, but Kristina Sisco’s play “Gone…” is a terrific little gem that deserves many more productions, and the Ann Stafford prizewinning poem by Elisabeth Murawski is emotionally devastating. The journal is well worth your time and support. Click here to order.

A quick side note: A big thank-you again to Kimberly Glann for directing the premiere of “The Fifth Administration” in fall of 2004. Rereading the drafts that SCR’s scrupulous editor Annlee Ellingson sent me reinforced how much I learned about that play and its characters in working on the production with Kim. Case in point: After the Rumsfeld substitute breaks his aide’s leg in three places, the aide is dragged out screaming by that very leg. I’m not sure whose idea that was — perhaps Kim’s — but I’m sure glad it’s in there.

This Tuesday I’m having lunch with Gerald Locklin. It’s my treat, in more ways than one.

A year and a half ago when I learned that Gerry was going to be joining us in the USC Master of Professional Writing program, I was delighted. I knew him in two different ways: as a poet whose work I greatly enjoyed, and as a famed friend of Charles Bukowski.

Since our first meeting at a faculty luncheon, Gerry has been unfailingly kind. As someone who writes faster than most of us can read, he’s had I think four books come out in the past 18 months, and he’s put a signed copy of each one in my MPW mailbox. He’s also shown up at every one of my own events, including Moving Arts’ 15th Anniversary. This sort of support from a fellow writer, especially one as highly esteemed as Gerry, means a lot.

Last week I ordered his book “Bukowski: A Sure Bet” from an obscure bookseller on the internet. It arrived at my office and I started to read it and immediately thought I should order another copy for my good friend Rich Roesberg, who introduced me to Bukowski’s work 25 years ago. That night when I checked my mailbox at USC, I found that Gerry had already put a copy there. So among his many other gifts, he appears to be psychic as well. (Note to Uncle Rich: this is your other non-birthday present, when I see you in June.) I saw Gerry that night at a reception and invited him to lunch. Until recently, I haven’t made enough time for friends and colleagues, and that was something I resolved to change in 2008. None of us knows how long we have before getting hit by that metaphoric big bus, and I didn’t want to miss the chance to have lunch with Gerald Locklin. I’ll let you know how that goes.

In the meantime, here’s a poem of Gerry’s that I particularly admire. Garrison Keillor loves it, too, and has read it on the air and included it in his anthology “Good Poems.” It’s a good poem.

The Iceberg Theory

all the food critics hate iceberg lettuce.
you’d think romaine was descended from
orpheus’s laurel wreath,
you’d think raw spinach had all the nutritional
benefits attributed to it by popeye,
not to mention aesthetic subtleties worthy of
verlaine and debussy.
they’ll even salivate over chopped red cabbage
just to disparage poor old mr. iceberg lettuce.

I guess the problem is
it’s just too common for them.
it doesn’t matter that it tastes good,
has a satisfying crunchy texture,
holds its freshness,
and has crevices for the dressing,
whereas the darker, leafier varieties
are often bitter, gritty, and flat.
it just isn’t different enough, and
it’s too goddamn american.

of course a critic has to criticize:
a critic has to have something to say.
perhaps that’s why literary critics
purport to find interesting
so much contemporary poetry
that just bores the shit out of me.

at any rate, I really enjoy a salad
with plenty of chunky iceberg lettuce,
the more the merrier,
drenched in an italian or roquefort dressing.
and the poems I enjoy are those I don’t have
to pretend that I’m enjoying.

–Gerald Locklin

What spurred me to sign up for the AIDS Marathon? A mailer that arrived at my office. Why did I get that mailer? I’m sure it was because of my subscription to Men’s Health.

(The very same reason I got a somewhat graphic postcard mailer from Playboy — delivered to my office — which I didn’t appreciate. And which I continued to unappreciate for at least a couple of minutes before tossing.)

I get a lot of magazines, and accordingly wind up on a lot of lists. Sometimes I wonder what the magazine marketing people make this somewhat eclectic grouping of 13 different publications.

There are the Men’s magazines: Men’s Vogue, and Men’s Health. (If it’s a men’s magazine but doesn’t say “Men’s” in the title, I don’t get it.)

There are the business publications: Portfolio, Inc., Fast Company, Los Angeles Business Journal, and San Fernando Business Journal. The last two are, respectively, weekly and biweekly. Fall behind by one issue and the next time you’re driving around and your wife says, “What’s that they’re building?” you’ll have no idea. I know: I’ve been there.

There are the general interest magazines: the New Yorker, the Atlantic, and Harper’s. I never know what’s going to be in any of them, and I like it that way. I dislike the New Yorker’s “special” issues — The Money Issue, The Style Issue (especially loathed), the current Innovation Issue, even the Winter Fiction and Summer Fiction and Cartoon issues. Argh! If I wanted theme issues, I’d subscribe to magazines covering those themes! I know these are just thinly disguised plots to sell more ads around those themes, and to do it with my hard-earned 37 cents an issue or whatever.

And there are the one-offs: Wired (I’m a tech junkie, although mostly a window shopper), Reason (if only the Libertarians weren’t, well, nuts I’d join them), and the Dramatist.

My favorite of all these magazines will surprise most people who read this blog: Whenever it arrives, I lunge for that Inc. magazine. I actually have two subscriptions to the same magazine — one at home and one at my office — so that I’m never Inc-less. Every story is essentially a profile of someone somewhere in the U.S. faced with some odd opportunity or challenge, and how they resolved that problem — or failed. It’s like a monthly magazine of bitty biographies straight out of Sinclair Lewis. The writing is strong and the photography is excellent. I’ve taken to clipping out photographs of the people profiled and using them as writing prompts for students: who is this guy? What does he want? What is his problem? And so forth.

I love the New Yorker too; bless them for bringing Roz Chast into my life, and Jin Ha (with that recent short story about the Chinese house brothel in Flushing, NY; now I have to pick up the novel!), and Anthony Lane and so many others. I like the hard-hearted simplicity of Reason, which mandates that every judgment should be made completely free of compassion for one’s fellow man or of optimism for the future — surely, this is a model we need more of, hence my interest in learning more about it every month. And I like the Atlantic for reminding me seemingly every month that global warming already happened and now is the time to buy a retirement villa in soon-to-be sunny Siberia.

The subscription that I’m going to let lapse? Harper’s. It’s just too twee for me. I don’t understand the front section at all — the “Readings” are snippets yanked wholesale from other publications of any sort and any era; being unclear on the organizing principle, I’m unclear what I’m to make of it. It’s like the egghead equivalent of dropping acid: “Look at the bright colors of this writing!” You can see how reading both Harper’s and Reason in the same month might drive one to psychosis — and scuttling back to the safety of Men’s Vogue, where one can look at the smart Burberry jackets (the preferred label of Obama!) in peace.

Pop quiz. See if you can identify what’s factually wrong with this story from the Los Angeles Times:

It used to always be the premium of the premiums. Now the cable pack’s catching up.
By Mary McNamara, Times Television Critic
April 19, 2008
REVOLUTION is a frightening, heady and often fatal business, but it’s what happens afterward that matters most. No one knows this better than the folks at HBO. “John Adams,” which comes to a close Sunday night, has devoted seven beautifully shot hours to defying the often overly patriotic legends of our past with a toothache-and-all portrait of a man who helped define modern democracy, albeit grumbling every step of the way.

In his portrayal of our second president, Paul Giamatti creates a man perpetually dissatisfied, disgusted by the preening ambition of politics even as he is infected by it. If his relentless crankiness was a bit hard for some of us to take in early episodes, in the second half of the series it makes much more sense. While exhorting angry men to throw off the shackles of tyranny offers many opportunities for rhetorical fabulousness, setting up a new government is a bureaucratic nightmare, with oversized personalities disagreeing over things both petty and fundamental. George Washington (David Morse) so quickly tired of the infighting among his Cabinet and vagaries of public opinion that he stepped down from the presidency after a single term. “I know now what it is like to be disliked,” he says to Adams, his perpetually disliked vice president.

I’ll bet you got it.

As most of us learned in grade school — or as one could have learned even by watching the “John Adams” miniseries this piece touches on — Washington served TWO terms, not one.

This is something evidently unknown not only to the Times Television Critic, but also to the copy desk of what claims to be one of the nation’s most important newspapers.

I recently told a friend that I’ve felt so sorry for Times employees that I’ve stopped picking on the paper. Despite its misspelling Allen Ginsberg’s name on the front page when he died. Despite the routine errors of both commission and omission. The paper has been shedding longtime employees left and right — including some friends of mine — and I do love reading the daily newspaper, so this is the cri de couer of a wounded lover. But by God, if you can’t even get right that the Founder, the “indispensable man” of American history, served EIGHT years and NOT FOUR, then perhaps you shouldn’t be publishing a newspaper.

(With all apologies to friends still writing for the paper.)

Comic-book artist Peter Bagge covered the now long-ago New Hampshire primary for Reason magazine. Here’s what he learned. (Especially about Ron Paul.)