Here's the appropriate thought experiment. Imagine that every year 50 percent of all American 10 year old boys were shipped to Boulder Colorado, where they ran 50 to 70 miles a week at altitude for the next seven years. Would the United States regain control of international middle and long distance running?
In an Op-Ed last Sunday by Kevin Martin, the chairman of the Federal Communications Commission, he proposes lifting some restrictions on media ownership which would benefit newspaper owners:
"This relatively minor loosening of the ban on cross-ownership of newspapers and TV stations in markets where there are many voices and sufficient competition to allow for new entrants would help strike a balance between ensuring the quality of local news while guarding against too much concentration."
No mention of the Internet at all, which is refreshing, but it's surprising to read a pro-media consolidation opinion in the usually lefty New York Times. Many newspapers own digital property and do very well on it, so stepping back to broadcast is counterintuitive. The thesis is that for newspapers to save themselves they need to be allowed to purchase local television stations. It's not hard to see the reverse happening, and CBS simply buying the largest newspaper in every market in which they have a local affiliate. I'm not sure that would be good for newspapers or their readers.
“To cry Wolof” is a recent coinage used to describe amateur etymologists who propose absurd theories based upon superficial similarities between different languages. It comes from the widely circulated but false claim that the word “hip” ‘cool, fashionable’ comes from the West African language of Wolof. You can see many such language coincidences here. They are provably, demonstrably, unquestionably coincidences.
Here in the miraculous roiling currents of the Mudhole, 17 miles southeast of Manhattan, and further out at hotspots like the Dip, off Montauk, tuna hunt squid and speed at 30 miles per hour alongside whales, porpoises and sea turtles. It is the wildest display of unbridled nature a New York sport fisherman like myself can ever hope to see.
But for those of us who think tuna fishing is an undeniable rite of fall, things are looking deniable.
You've reached the personal blog of David Jacobs. I live in New York City, and I'm eating two hamburgers a week on doctor's orders. When you're done with the front page, you can read the archives.
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