Below the Fold

Living the Absent Life

Every week at least one or two people start following me on Twitter. This in itself is not a problem – my feed is public and I have nothing to hide from friend, foe or even Yankee fan.

What I find interesting is that I haven’t posted anything on Twitter since I signed up for the service when it was still in beta. One look at my page will make that painfully obvious, so either people 1) are hoping against hope that I’ll say something important someday, or 2) could care less about what I have to say and just want to be connected in case I commit suicide, and as a last-minute plea for attention I broadcast my 140-character cry for help.

Nothing against Twitter – I think it’s a great service and have recommended it to clients where it made sense. But as those of you who follow this blog know, I have enough trouble maintaining Below the Fold, much less another channel. And besides, if I can’t think of anything important to say for over a month here, I certainly wouldn’t be able to keep pace with a Twitter channel, 140 characters per post or not.

Twitter reminds me of the early days of blogging, when posts about bathroom breaks, travel delays and the cute thing the cat just did dominated the nascent blogosphere. I distinctly remember a post from Dan Gillmor, then and still one of my idols, where he made sure to let everyone know he would be offline for two hours and not to worry, he would be back and posting again as soon as possible.

Suffice to say we’ve all gotten more patient. Some early stars like Jason Calacanis have even stopped blogging altogether. Yet information has not slowed, outlets have not diminished and the thirst for being first often quenches being right.

WE LIVE IN A TIME OF PLENTY – plenty good and plenty bad. You could say the same thing about almost any decade at any time in modern history. The difference today, I believe, is not so much in what we have, but in what is missing.

There is the “Digital Life’ that many of us live – certainly those of us who read blogs, update their Facebook profiles, send texts or record podcasts. And then there is the Absent Life, the place where we fail to connect with each other like so many unused Twitter feeds.

The Absent Life is talking to people online without engaging in a real conversation. It’s about knowing without understanding. The Absent Life is what goes on around us while we are busy being busy.

It’s the guy on his Blackberry at dinner with his wife. It’s the person sending e-mail at Midnight when 8 AM would suffice. It’s the excuse that you can’t afford to disconnect from the Internet, when in fact you are just disconnecting from the real world. And it’s the dichotomy of wanting to stay on top of the latest news and trends while also trying to stay on top of everything else demanding your immediate attention.

Our lives are digital. Our work is digital. And our friends are digital. Everything we want is at our fingertips. We think we have it all, because in many ways we do.

Really, we are fortunate. People are making real connections online, engaging and supporting each other. Media is forging new ground and taking storytelling to levels never before possible in the world of mere atoms.

The Digital Life is worth living. What we need is a better way to balance our digital world so we don’t become absent in the real one.

A case in point: a few months ago, a colleague placed a picture of a little girl in my office. The girl was much younger than my daughter but about the same age as his. I thanked him for the photo and commented how cute his daughter looked.

Just one problem – the picture was of my own daughter, taken years earlier in my own backyard when I was apparently standing nearby. My little girl, my yard, my life – and not a clue or wisp of memory of my daughter ever looking that way.

The Digital Life is where I try to be. But the Absent Life is me.

Tim Russert: Citizen Journalist

“Feels like the country’s biggest game is about to be played without the referee.” – Elizabeth Wilner, posted on the “Missing Russert” Facebook group.

 

AS MODERN JOURNALISM LAY near death, with its entertainment-driven news, pomp and punditry, Tim Russert was its life support. Now, with Russert gone, we can only wonder how long journalism can go on.

Russert’s ability to hold an entire profession together was never fully noticed or appreciated. But as reporters, broadcasters, colleagues and competitors flooded the airwaves in the hours after Russert’s death from a heart attack, the void left by Buffalo’s favorite son was painfully obvious.

There was Keith Olbermann, the antithesis of objective journalism, talking to his partner in polemics Chris Matthews about Russert’s objectivity and dedication to his craft.

There was Wolf Blitzer and Larry King from CNN, saying all the right things but looking lost, as if without Russert the nation would have to turn its lonely eyes to them for its political coverage – the thought of which scared them to death.

Certainly Russert can never be replaced, but there’s no one left in television news that is even in the same league. It was as if Paul McCartney had died, and the only people left to deliver the eulogies were Miley Cyrus and Right Said Fred.

Olbermann’s tribute was beautiful and heartfelt to be sure, but the real proof of Russert’s impact will come when Olbermann tapes his next edition of “Countdown.” Will he, as Russert did, learn everything he can about his guests’ positions and then take the other side? Will he use his obvious intellect to inform us or just keep us pissed off?

And will Matthews, on his next “Hardball,” let his guests finish a complete sentence? Will he, as Russert did, force politicians to go beyond their well-practiced sound bites?

Will anyone – can anyone – remember Russert through their actions and not their words? Or with Russert’s passing has the plug been pulled on journalism, on objectivity and discourse forever.

I want to say yes to the latter. I want to just give up on a profession that, save for a few serious journalists, gave up on itself a long time ago.

But that wouldn’t befit Tim. This was a Bills fan after all – he was a man who always believed in the next play, the next game, the next season.

Russert was the true definition of a citizen journalist. His questions were ours, and he never forgot for whom he worked. His authenticity, unlike that of so many of his contemporaries, was unimpeachable.

Journalism changed and Russert survived. The question now is whether journalism will survive without the likes of Tim Russert.

We Are the Firemen

In May 1993 – the exact date and time escape me – my inner world, the one where thoughts are born, developed and processed, lost its ability to be silent. I since have lived with constant noise, the result of a tumor that, in an ironic nod to God’s comic grace, left me deaf in one ear yet covered in a perpetual blanket of ringing static.

Sometimes it’s not too bad, other times it’s so loud it sounds like there’s a KISS concert in my cranium. But it is always there, never fully abated, never completely quiet. It will never be quiet, and it has been so long I have forgotten what quiet is, what silence sounds like, what kinds of thoughts stillness brings. How much smarter, how less painful the headaches and seizures, how more aware of my environment would I be if only I could hear more – and then, like most people, dial down the volume and hear nothing but thinking.

Rather than go insane, I did the next best thing – I went into marketing. Turns out my decision was less pathos than it was prescience, as I watch my former trade of journalism in some cases melt away, in others morph into a new kind of socially-driven journalism enabled (if not always ennobled) by modern technology.

THE DESCENT OF PRINT alone is not a problem for a our society. But the descent of thought is. And this death of reasonable thinking and discourse has given rise to a ringing in all our ears, a cacophony of “social media” for its own sake rather than the sake of the consumer.

Don’t get me wrong (though I guarantee someone will) – I love technology and Web 2.0. I believe in the power of conversation and the promise of connecting people to each other with authentic communications. But in this new silicon rush we far too often discount what’s gone before, throwing judgment into the intellectual pyre like so many worn newspapers.

In other words, in our well-meant effort to broaden and share our knowledge, are we also destroying the very knowledge and reasoned discussion we so boldly claim to seek?

Because we can connect with people like ourselves, we do. And then we act as if other opinions don't exist -- or if they do, then don't matter. We do this within our social networks, the pseudo social media intelligentsia do it at conferences and on their blogs, and the news media does it by giving us news tuned to whatever ideological frequency we desire.

We jump to conclusions and applaud hyperbole until the slightest chance of digesting an idea is gone. That idea is destroyed forever, lost in the echo chamber of self-important consultants and rash Twitter feeds.

Never before in human history has so much information been available so readily to so many. Yet although we are creating and writing more, we are saying less.

IN FAHRENHEIT 451, RAY BRADBURY’S seminal novel about censorship and intellectual intolerance, a “fireman” was someone who burned books. Well, we don’t burn books per se, but we burn discourse. We don't destroy newspapers, but our actions are killing them off just the same. We are the firemen.

So this is my warning and my plea: don’t get caught up in the social media panacea. Instead, experiment and decide what works for you and your company. Focus on the customer first and the technology second. It’s okay to take small steps, to do what’s best for your business, to embrace new tools at your own pace even if it goes against the “purists” who argue that there’s only one way move forward.

And above all, take time to think, to plan, to discuss and learn. Embrace the unknown and reject those who insist they know it all. Find some silence and make decisions without being surrounded by so much noise.

I would give anything for just a few seconds of mental peace and quiet. Don’t squander yours.

Ten Tweets I'd Like to See

Hillary08: Stuck in Indiana, please send money

God: Creating the world in seven days was a piece of cake, but writing something meaningful in 140 character fragments is a real pain in the a...

SocialMediaGuy1: if you’re not using Twitter then you are obsolete

ADD: Twitter is the coolest what yeah Pounce is the greatest what totally you going to finish those fries

Dr. Phil: As if I wasn’t overexposed already

SocialMediaGuy2: Twitter is obsolete

Dubya: Which one of the Internets is this?

G24khamr: If someone who publishes a blog is a “blogger,” how come people who use Twitter aren’t called “Twits”?

PhilGomes: I hear that guy from Bladerunner is in another movie this summer called “Indiana Jones”

SocialMediaGuy3: Does anyone remember the URL for my blog?

                           

Hillary08: Stuck in Indiana, please send money

God: Creating the world in seven days was a piece of cake, but writing something meaningful in 140 character fragments is a real pain in the a...

SocialMediaGuy1: if you’re not using Twitter then you are obsolete

ADD: Twitter is the coolest what yeah Pounce is the greatest what totally you going to finish those fries

Dr. Phil: As if I wasn’t overexposed already

SocialMediaGuy2: Twitter is obsolete

Dubya: Which one of the Internets is this?

G24khamr: If someone who publishes a blog is a “blogger,” how come people who use Twitter aren’t called “Twits”?

PhilGomes: I hear that guy from Bladerunner is in another movie this summer called “Indiana Jones”

SocialMediaGuy3: Does anyone remember the URL for my blog?

                           

Living an "In-Between" Digital Life

(Cross-posted from the Authenticities blog.)

MY SUNDAY LOS ANGELES TIMES arrived with a sticker on the front page advertising home foreclosure auctions – a struggling industry trying to reach people via a dying medium. As ironies go, this was a keeper.

Later than morning, a man I guessed to be in his late ‘50s sat with a newspaper and a black coffee. Not 10 feet away at the same coffee house, two young women huddled around an iPhone, reading news and discussing various web sites as they sipped their lattes.

That the news business is changing is nothing new. Yet as I get older I find myself lost between two worlds – clinging to the physical while embracing the digital. And I wonder if I’m the last generation to feel this way.

Those older than me will never fully understand or accept the Digital Present. My sister is only seven years my senior and she still thinks the Internet is a place where friends and family send each other lame jokes and urban legends via e-mail. The generation just a few years younger than me barely reads newspapers and never watches network news – and those even younger, like my nine-year-old daughter, will never subscribe to a newspaper or understand news as anything other than a commodity. Or worse, as anything other than the “Star Tracks” section of People Magazine.

I’m not saying we need to turn back the clock (and for those of you shaking your heads right now, a “clock” was a device that displayed the time with “hands” that could be turned forward or backward. But I digress…). The news business may be downsizing, but in many ways news is bigger than ever, more accessible and, thanks to citizen journalists, more honest than ever before. The best journalists will adapt because good stories are medium and trend agnostic; new voices will surface because the barriers to entry are all but gone.

This is all great, all wonderful, and I wouldn’t change the future for the sake of the past. Nevertheless, there’s one thing I wish we could hand down to the next generations, could make them understand, could make them experience.

Ink matters.

Ink doesn’t just activate the senses – it permeates. Ink gives words weight beyond meaning. Ink has a place, even in a world of bits.

Ink is authentic. It has been around for centuries and has brought us the most amazing stories imaginable and unimaginable.

Ink makes us laugh – and in the case of my Sunday L.A. Times with the home foreclosure sticker ad, ink makes us cry.

Ink is in-between. And so am I.

                           

(Cross-posted from the Authenticities blog.)

MY SUNDAY LOS ANGELES TIMES arrived with a sticker on the front page advertising home foreclosure auctions – a struggling industry trying to reach people via a dying medium. As ironies go, this was a keeper.

Later than morning, a man I guessed to be in his late ‘50s sat with a newspaper and a black coffee. Not 10 feet away at the same coffee house, two young women huddled around an iPhone, reading news and discussing various web sites as they sipped their lattes.

That the news business is changing is nothing new. Yet as I get older I find myself lost between two worlds – clinging to the physical while embracing the digital. And I wonder if I’m the last generation to feel this way.

Those older than me will never fully understand or accept the Digital Present. My sister is only seven years my senior and she still thinks the Internet is a place where friends and family send each other lame jokes and urban legends via e-mail. The generation just a few years younger than me barely reads newspapers and never watches network news – and those even younger, like my nine-year-old daughter, will never subscribe to a newspaper or understand news as anything other than a commodity. Or worse, as anything other than the “Star Tracks” section of People Magazine.

I’m not saying we need to turn back the clock (and for those of you shaking your heads right now, a “clock” was a device that displayed the time with “hands” that could be turned forward or backward. But I digress…). The news business may be downsizing, but in many ways news is bigger than ever, more accessible and, thanks to citizen journalists, more honest than ever before. The best journalists will adapt because good stories are medium and trend agnostic; new voices will surface because the barriers to entry are all but gone.

This is all great, all wonderful, and I wouldn’t change the future for the sake of the past. Nevertheless, there’s one thing I wish we could hand down to the next generations, could make them understand, could make them experience.

Ink matters.

Ink doesn’t just activate the senses – it permeates. Ink gives words weight beyond meaning. Ink has a place, even in a world of bits.

Ink is authentic. It has been around for centuries and has brought us the most amazing stories imaginable and unimaginable.

Ink makes us laugh – and in the case of my Sunday L.A. Times with the home foreclosure sticker ad, ink makes us cry.

Ink is in-between. And so am I.

                           

In CNN’s Hands, YouTube Loses its Voice

As a former newspaper reporter, I never had much respect for television news. More style than substance, more sound bite than serious, TV journalism was media junk food. I preferred a good steak and still do.

There were exceptions – Walter Cronkite, Jim Lehrer and, going way back, Ed Murrow (though he served up his share of sugary snacks as well.) And in the early ‘90s, there was a decade-old network called CNN that, with its blog-like first person coverage of the Gulf War, showed that television and journalism could indeed coexist and add reason to public discourse.

But that was, as they say, then – and this, unfortunately for our country and its conscience, is now.

I accepted CNN’s financial need to compete with Fox and MSNBC by taking a side – not conservative like Fox or liberal like MSNBC, but a kind of neo populism characterized by anchor-driven “mad as hell” histrionics. I looked away when the “maddest” of the bunch, Lou Dobbs, made illegal immigration his clarion call.

Then last week, CNN went too far. The network, which hosted the Republican “YouTube Debate,” went from ranting about the election to attempting to rig it.

CNN is no longer a news organization; it is a political action committee. It has gone off the deep end not in search of ratings, but rather in an obsequious bow to Dobbs, his quest for book sales and a possible third-party Presidential bid.

Consider this: the first one-third of the debate centered on immigration, Dobbs one-trick pony, despite national polls showing that only six percent of Americans believe immigration is an important issue in the 2008 election. What are the top issues? Iraq, the economy, healthcare and energy costs. What other topics did CNN producers cull from the 5,000 YouTube submissions? They chose gun control, the Confederate flag and whether the Bible is the true word of God.

I don’t mind the YouTube format – in fact I love its raw sense of immediacy. But don’t for one minute think that the format makes the debate any more real; CNN took care of that, manipulating the event to serve its own puerile purposes.

CNN not only crossed the line, it went into uncharted waters. It used the electoral process, hardly free of abuse itself, to serve its hunger for relevance and ratings. CNN has gone from being an inspiration to journalism to being its enemy – a voice beyond mere bias now bent on Machiavellian power.

Hyperbole? Perhaps. CNN is, after all, just a network – just a business. As I said before, I never had much respect for television news, so maybe I should go eat my steak and shut up. Just sit back, relax and listen -- the news is on.

Warning: No Social Media or New Journalism Content Included

Los Angeles is a city of fragments, pieces loosely joined yet bound as if against nature. Most people only see L.A. through a windshield – the observer protected behind glass, the observed seen in glimpses if at all. Los Angeles is a place apart and in parts, where everyone lives but no one is from.

It is into this concrete dichotomy I drive several days a week. I’ve done this for nearly a year with no regret, save for the occasional Sigalert that slows traffic even more than the usual crawl. Once this happened by the Staples Center, forcing me to watch the video ad for “American Idols on Tour” more times than should be considered humane.

Almost every day, before joining my fellow commuters on Interstate 10 and 5 for the long slog to  Orange County, I see a homeless man by the freeway entrance. Always smiling, always pleasant, and always with a hand out, as if he’s the operator of an imaginary toll booth. I give when I can, when the stoplight cooperates. This means lowering the window, a risky proposition in a place where people lock their car doors while they are still driving.

For months I saw this man – and then, a few weeks ago, he was gone. Maybe it was the weather, both turning slightly cooler and for a long while heavy with smoke and its unhealthy remnants.

He could be anywhere, doing just fine, but nevertheless I worry and wonder – whether he is safe, whether he found a better onramp, or whether he melted back into the jigsaw world of Greater L.A., another face in another windshield. This is the time of Thanksgiving after all, a time for holidays and families and desires for human connections. So I wonder, I worry, and wait.

The Day after Christmas
This man – and next time I see him, I promise to ask his name – reminds me of another man I met in Atlanta, exactly 17 years ago Friday. He, too, was (at least to me) homeless and nameless, a regular character at the CNN Cente. I wrote about him in my book, and the following passage tells the story of our brief encounter:

“Where are you from?” The question came out of nowhere, as did the man. He looked 40ish, wearing a purple long-sleeved shirt, a green jacket-vest, a black hat, and a beard grown from neglect rather than purpose. As we talked, he would continuously sip from an empty Styrofoam cup. I wanted to tell him there was nothing in there, though I’m sure he knew. I just stared at the cup rising and falling from the man’s lips with mechanical precision.

I don’t know what was in the cup before, but based on our conversation, I got the feeling it was more likely vodka than coffee. We talked about life on the streets, and how being homeless is a lot like being in prison – except that in prison you get three meals a day and a warm place to sleep. But that wasn’t the worst part.

“It’s the loneliness,’ he said, taking another imaginary sip. “All the time, loneliness. All of my friends are either dead or gone.”

I was going to tell him how lonely I felt that Thanksgiving, but decided against it. Here was a guy who has endured the same ugly feeling for six years, and I was depressed about one day spent in a warm hotel room with the people I love a phone call away. His cup was empty; mine runneth over.

“The day after Christmas,” he said. “A business is made or broken by how well it is the day after Christmas. Everything is defined by where you are the day after Christmas.”

We had been talking about Thanksgiving, but I wasn’t going to argue. This was his conversation. I was just along for the ride.

I gave him some money as I got up to take my tour, which he accepted but don’t think expected. When I came back downstairs an hour later, I spotted my friend talking to a couple of other street people, and he waved to me as I passed.

He still had his cup and it was still empty. And I felt bad, really bad, because I knew that on the day after Christmas, he would still be there.

I never looked at people or a place the same after that. Everywhere is home for someone – every place has its own ecosystem that functions often despite itself. No matter where we live, we can connect.

Yes, Los Angeles is a city of fragments, the people fragmented. But while the pieces don’t always fit, they do, eventually, come together.

Facebook is the New Corporate Intranet (and Other Things I Want to Mention but Would Rather Not Discuss)

Glenn Beck is an Insensitive Prick – Beck told his national radio audience that “a handful of people who hate America are losing their homes in a forest fire today,” referring to the wildfires that started in Malibu. First of all, one of those people, Steve Dark, is a conservative who loves America and goes to church every week – or at least he did until his church burned to the ground.

So what does that mean, Glenn? Does God hate America, too? Steve and his Malibu neighbors are looking forward to your answer.

Facebook is the New Corporate Intranet – Why not? Create a Facebook Group, set it up as “Secret” – so it’s not visible to search, only invited members can participate and the group is invisible on members’ profiles – and voila, instant Intranet. Members can post, discuss and share information, even upload photos or host audio or video podcasts (and don’t forget the ability to create custom applications.) Simple to be sure, but for some companies simple is good enough. Goodbye HTML, hello FBML.

Social Media is Not Just About a Set of Tools – Will someone please tell this to Ragan and PRSA? Please, before they hurt somebody? It’s often those who profess to know the future that turn out to be the most shortsighted.

Twit This: Twitter is Good for Something – I know, hard to believe, but San Diego PBS station KPBS used the popular micro-blogging tool to keep residents in touch with the latest wildfire news via their mobile phones. If you do crisis communications, Twitter is a great way to spread the word.

I Gave it an Honest Try, and "Cavemen" is Just Not Funny – I wanted to believe, ABC, I really did. But…damn.

The Audience is Still Smarter Than Us (and Generous) – I don’t know if professional photographer Alex Miroschnichenko’s decision to brave the Santiago Fire in Orange County and distribute his images for free was simply a random act of citizen journalism, but it was a significant act of citizenship.

New Glasses Don’t Make You Any Less Bald – Hey, it was worth a shot. At least I still have time to grow a beard and dress up as Phil Gomes for Halloween (sorry, I know I shouldn’t make fun of a guy about to get married, that’s supposed to happen after the wedding.)

 

 

 

Where Have All the (Marketing) Leaders Gone?

“There’s not a compelling reason to stay.” – Brian McGuinness, vice president of Aloft, a brand of Starwood Hotels & Resorts Worldwide Inc. that “launched” in Second Life.

 
I’ve always said that there are two kinds of companies: Those that read case studies, and those that write them. Most want to be the latter but fall back on the former – they are willing to take risks as long as others have taken them first.

Reading case studies and doing your homework is fine. But more and more, at least in terms of exploring and investing in new media, companies are either holding back or getting out too soon.

I’ve seen it again and again in my professional life. Some companies want to be perceived as “hip” without actually having to be hip. They want to “do social media” as long as they can “do it” the same way they’ve always done traditional PR. They want “one of those viral videos,” as if putting a clip on YouTube is an automatic Golden Ticket to word-of-mouth nirvana.

Even those companies that take the leap – that are willing to write the case studies for our new media world – do so without a clear strategy or get out because there wasn’t any “immediate” return.

For example, American Apparel and Starwood Hotels, two of the earliest innovators in the virtual world of Second Life, are either closing shop or letting their simulations languish. Others simply wanted to write a press release about being in Second Life more than they wanted to be in Second Life. Now corporate marketing executives want to know what’s next so they can look cool to their kids (some friendly advice: You will never look cool to your kids.)

You can’t experiment with a bleeding edge social network and expect immediate results, yet this is the message these companies send when they fold their tents. And if more companies go, who will be left to move the medium forward? Social media allows innovation to come from the bottom up, this is true, but great innovation also needs stewards at the top.

Corporate America is scared. Things are changing too fast, consumers are too powerful and marketing is too fragmented. The One Corporate Voice now has to speak with multiple messages for infinite desires stretched across psychographic lines on varied platforms.

Marketing today is better because of the ability to have real conversations and relationships with consumers. It’s also a lot easier to find the people you want to reach.

But marketing today is also harder. It requires patience, some prescience and lots of participation. It demands new metrics of measurement. And yes, it calls for risk and a long-term view.

Running in place will keep you fit for a while, but it won’t get you anywhere. And if they continue to be too careful, American marketers will find themselves on the sidelines and out of the race for good.

Now, Hear This

“If we don’t meet again, your final assignment from me is perhaps the most important lesson you will learn in life. Go to your mother, father, brother and sisters, and tell them with all your heart how much you love them. And tell them you know how much they love you too. Go out of your way to make good memories…at some point these memories may be all you have left. May God bless you all, Bryan.”

– Professor Bryan Cloyd’s e-mail to his students. Cloyd’s daughter, Austin, died in the April 16, 2007, Virginia Tech shootings.

An elementary school student walked into his classroom, sat at his desk, pulled a loaded gun from his backpack – and blew his own face off.

This was almost 20 years ago in Jefferson City, Missouri. It was my first story on my first day as a reporter for United Press International. I still remember calling in the copy from a nearby pay phone, the crime scene and the students. I remember thinking how could this happen, why did it happen, and would it happen again.

Twenty years later, all that’s changed is the technology. News moves faster, guns shoot better. But tragedy is timeless.

You don’t need me to go on about the Hokie Horror that devastated Virginia Tech and froze the country in disbelief; we have Anderson Cooper for that.

I’ll just say this: It took five syllables and about a week for Don Imus to lose his talk radio job. Cho Seung-Hui gives us more than two years of warnings via teachers and students, spends time in a mental facility where he’s deemed a menace to society, and we don’t hear a damn thing.

Listen now.

Student newspapers covering the Virginia Tech tragedy:

• http://www.collegemedia.com/
• http://www.planetblacksburg.com/