I know it’s “elitist” of me, but I’m saddened by the common thread in these top stories from abqjournal.com. mjh

ABQjournal: Top Ten ABQjournal stories

Here are the most read stories on ABQjournal.com today. List is updated every 10 minutes. NOTE: These rankings are calculated based on clicks in web server logs. Either new content or old content can be the most read on the site any day.

Most Read Stories Today
1 MEN’S BASKETBALL Don’t Get Too Excited About the Lobos Yet
2 350 Attend Longford Auction
3 LOBO FOOTBALL Fum-Bowl! Postseason Berth Now In Jeopardy
4 Critics Say Rising Rail Runner Tab Slows Road Work
5 N.M. Surrounded by States With New, Tougher Immigration Laws
6 FOOTBALL PLAYOFFS Rams Top Hobbs for First Football Playoff Win
7 Snow-Making, Delayed Openings Figure in Forecast
8 FOOTBALL NMSU Hits Rock Bottom
9 BASKETBALL Lobo Women Visit California for 1st Road Test
10 NM Prep Scores

Most Read Stories this Week
1 Eclipse Is Sued By Supplier
2 Topless Bar a Bad Fit, Neighbors Say
3 Studio in the Works for State
4 Scorps Accused of Beating Man
5 NM Prep Scores
6 Young Are Flocking to Duke City
7 LOBO MEN’S BASKETBALL Defensive Effort Keys Early Run
8 Assets Unfrozen For Suspects
9 A Question of Advertising Some Lobo Fans Have Had Enough at Games
10 MEN’S BASKETBALL UNM Expecting to Land Signatures From a Cluster of Prep Stars Today

http://www.abqjournal.com/topten_stories.htm

I’ve admired Jim Scarantino for years. Jim is both articulate and passionate. He uses those two qualities well in speaking and writing. Like clockwork, twice a week — once for the Alibi and once for KNME — Jim is out there, thoughtful and cuttingly clever.

On those rare occasions when he drops a dud, I forgive him. Sometimes, I struggle with his point, as in this week’s strange column lambasting effete urban treehuggers. (Jim did not use one of those words, a measure of his skill.)

Jim’s the real deal as an environmentalist. He walks the walk 50 miles at a time. He’s been deeper in the wild longer than I have and come back with words and pictures that one has to admire. Moreover, Jim has faced dangers few of us will: He was a pro-environment Republican. Talk about cojones. No wonder he doesn’t suffer people who *say* they love the environment but can’t prove it when the tread hits the trail.

There’s more than a little testosterone-poisoning in Jim’s column this week. He throws the word “enviro” around like he’s rejoined the Republican Party. You hear the sneer, even in print. Enviros live in cities and make life miserable for real people who don’t. After reading his column, anyone will feel like punching an enviro in the face.

Maybe that’s part of his clever plan. Perhaps, Jim’s giving a tough-love lesson: “Now you know how you’ve made those good country folk feel.” Perhaps, Jim can inspire (or humiliate) talkers into becoming doers. Unlike most mean-spirited screeds, his offers concrete actions that he suggests might make him stop despising, well, me, for one. (Uh-oh, are my hurt feelings showing? Typical wimpy tree-hugger!)

Trying to put aside the attack and look for substance, I have problems with Jim’s … — let’s generously call it “reasoning.” Most broadly, I despise the attitude that only selected people “count” or are entitled to an opinion on a subject. Jim’s argument about wolves is identical to the argument some make about Iraq: if you’re not there, shut the fuck up. That’s right: If you oppose the war but don’t actually go there, your opinion is worth less — no, worthless. (Unless that opinion is pro-war, paradoxically.) I can’t believe Jim feels that way about the war, but he cannot deny that that is precisely his argument regarding wolves.

Further, Jim explains that UNM students who care about the fate of the lobo not only look stupid but actually make matters worse because they antagonize the “salt of the earth” (Das Folk) living noble lives in places like Reserve. If you don’t drop out of school and go tend the wolves hands-on, you’re a hypocrite. Way to inspire! Nice lesson.

Moreover, while every column and columnist has limits, I’m not surprised that Jim leaves out some interesting facts. For example, people lived with wolves AND grizzly bears for millennia without the benefit of the 2nd Amendment or private property. We call those people Indians and after we swept them aside, the Federal Government proceeded to destroy all other competing predators. (Any wonder the Feds might not get it right this time?) Mind you, I’m under no illusions that Indians wouldn’t be as brutal as anyone else given guns and deeds. We only have to look at dozens of Isleta Pueblo billboards to see all people are alike.

But who owns the public lands ranching depends upon? “We” do, which includes Jim, me, college students and ranchers. Therefore, we’re all not just entitled to an opinion; we all have a stake in the use of public lands NO MATTER HOW FAR FROM THOSE LANDS WE LIVE and even if one never steps foot on public land. Public land is not private land.

Painting broadly, Jim chooses not to mention two types of ranchers. Everyone ignores the ranchers who figure they can put up with wolves. (Did you know you could buy “wolf friendly” beef from such ranchers?) More deceptively, Jim hides the ranchers who believe there is no public land, just their own private property. Like some nutty relation, they might distract from the appearance of reasonableness.

Most unforgivable is Jim’s adoption of a strawman, proof how weak his argument is. While this is *the* technique of lesser lights, I expect more from Jim who suggests that if you really love wolves, turn them loose in the city. You realize there are people (on both sides of the issue) who would be very happy with that solution. While we’re at it, let’s turn polar bears loose in New Mexico. Jim suggests you’re a hypocrite if you think wild things belong IN THE WILD and more so than domesticated animals. (Many years ago, I suggested grazing cattle on golf courses in response to some bloviation from St Pete. I fully support the voluntary relocation of all ranchers out of the Gila and onto the huge number of golf courses in desert New Mexico. Cows would readily take to the change and the long drive to town would be eliminated.)

By all means, let’s buy ranch land and grazing rights and let it go wild. Let’s put boots on the ground, in a friendly, non-confrontational way. Let’s give money to the good folk who accept that the wolf is back. Let’s do what we can, wherever we are, to save wilderness and wild things. The return of the wolf to New Mexico is far more important than anything Jim or I have to say. Make it work. mjh

PS: I agree with Jim, and many others, that the wolf reintroduction is not working now. I’m sure people on both sides have made it worse. I know Joe Skeen did everything he could to fuck it up and Steve Pearce will try even harder, ignoring any percentage of public lands stakeholders he chooses.

Even in this digital age, I still like newspapers. I grew up with one of the best: The Washington Post. In the evening, we read the Alexandria Gazette, a decent local rag. In those days, DC had another evening paper, too: The Evening Star. My first Letter to the Editor was published in my high school’s daily newspaper.

For all the grief I give my friends at the Albuquerque Journal, I start each day with it. Granted, it has an awful ratio of news to ads (what nerds call the “signal to noise ratio”). And, too often, when I follow a story to the Web, I find the Journal has truncated it without any notice. (I know, that’s what editors do, but it still shocks me.)

We both wanted very much to like the Tribune. As with the Journal, there were people at the Trib we like. (And some I despise, like Jeffrey Granger.) But the Trib always seemed even less substantial than the Journal, hardly worth waiting for or occupying an evening with. On the other hand, the Trib had a better website than the Journal, which still doesn’t seem to “get it.”

Perhaps, Rupert Murdoch (I bet he got beat up a lot on the playground) will buy the Trib and rename it the Evening Conservative. (“Twilight of the Conservatives” has a nice ring to it.) Stranger things have happened, like Reverend Moon buying the Washington Times, another bastion of deep thinkers.

So, though I didn’t subscribe, I’ll miss the Tribune and Albuquerque will lose something important if it passes. mjh

Does the Media sensationalize, trivialize and infantize? Well, the Journal’s home page reflects the ranking of the paper’s front page today, though the difference in story emphasis is much more dramatic in the print version. There you’ll find the top story above the fold with a font normally reserved for cataclysms. We read that the mayor believes our local golf courses are in peril! Peril, people! Gasp. Farther down the page, below the fold, a smaller headline notes that suicides and accidental deaths are up in New Mexico. No telling what the suicide rate is among Journal readers, but shutting down the golf courses would dramatically reduce the death rate by lightning and skin cancer. Given that there are thousands of golf courses in the desert southwest, I doubt the suicide rate for golfers would rise much.

Many years ago, in response to Saint Pete intoning that all public lands must be available to ranchers, I recommended we graze cattle on the golf courses. Now, as the mayor and the Journal use this threat to galvanize the public into bullying the council on budgetary matters, I take my lead from Newty Gingrich circa 1994: let ’em close! mjh

A few months ago, I sat down with Andrew Webb, a reporter for the Albuquerque Journal, to talk about my book and the writing thereof. We met at Flying Star on Menaul and I had a great time. Who wouldn’t enjoy being the center of attention? At that time, I hoped I’d get a third of Webb’s weekly column. Instead, it became a cover story with BIG, colorful photos.

A couple of months later, I met in the same spot — at the same table — with Johanna King, of the Journal, to talk about my major passtime (which, to me, should be the correct spelling): blogging. This was also a lively and entertaining discussion. (I imagine the Journal takes the talents of people like Webb and King for granted, as countless Journalism majors wait in the wings. Writing is hard work — engaging writing is better than gold.)

Now, I’m not complaining. I know, that’s how complainers begin, but I’m NOT. What I’m getting to is the perverse power of expectations. No doubt, the first article raised my expectations about the second (The daily blog). Not about the writing, which was great in both cases, but about the impact of the writing. And the impact of the photos. (Believe me, I understand if you’re thinking, “this guy was in two articles in the paper and has any gripes.” But, I’m not griping.)

Just yesterday, I met someone for the first time with whom I had corresponded by email a bit. He said, “you’re much better-looking than your picture.” To which, today, I say, “please, god, I hope so.”

In the same article, another blogger comes out to the world. Coco’s is one of the few blogs I ready with regularity and I do like her style and view. But here, she pulls off her mask to reveal the real person behind it. Ta-da! Ironically, I end up being the guy with too much time on his hands. (Well, that’s true, though time is all we have and until it runs out we all have the same amount.) Any press is good press, right?

While much of the blogosphere is ready to bury the MSM (mainstream media), I do appreciate that any new readers today come to me thanks to that very same MSM. Far more people read Webb and King than Hinton — I’m cool with that (sniff — stifled sob). On the other hand, it is likely that still more people saw Benson Hendrix’s piece on the UNM homepage. Yes, three articles in three months. (Is this the Universe’s nice way of saying goodbye?) If it looks like I’m great with PR, I’m not. Just lucky (some might say, blessed). I’m a terrible marketer. But, I’m worse at billing, so it’s good I never found more work. mjh

PS: If you want to blog, do it. Go to www.wordpress.com or www.blogger.com (or www.flickr.com for photos) and create a free account. You’ll be blogging in minutes. Don’t forget to link to me.

PPS: In thinking about time, I had an epiphany: each of us has just one possession, albeit temporary: our presence. It is at once our gift to and from the world. Connect with others, including everything around you. Blogging is just a part of that.

photo by mrudd

See also mjh’s blog — Other Blogs and New readers.

I didn’t submit anything to the Alibi’s short fiction contest this year, so I feel particularly free to say they made terrible choices for 1st and 3rd place (which is a ripoff of a well-known Twilight Zone). My selections are from the Honorable Mentions. mjh

mjh’s 1st: “Second Impulse”

If only the dog hadn’t died. But there was the new neighbor, digging frantically in the secluded corner behind his shed, trying to bury Fido before the family returned to wail over his act of vehicular homicide.

Any minute he would unearth the human skeleton. There would be no wallet, no clothing, no dentures to find; but the bones would reveal the congenital limp. That was always the worst of an impulsive murder. It was so hard to dispose of all the evidence permanently.

Now there was no choice. The unlucky neighbor would have to disappear. An offer to help, a blow from a second shovel. Nothing could be easier.

Only, where would she hide the body?

—Thayla Wright

mjh’s 2nd: “Small Print”

Unceremoniously, the Build-a-Universe kit arrived, crammed into my mailbox, displacing my cat Schrödinger from her favorite sleeping place.

The super-stringed box, labeled with my assumed name Ima Godd, magically unfolded itself at my first touch.

Astoundingly revealed were quantum baggies full of pin-wheeling plastic galaxies, fuzzy balled proto-stars, shrink-wrapped neutron stars, and a dark, sucking bundle of black holes.

Following the instruction book, I Hawking-blended all those ingredients into a cosmic soup.

But time stood still when I read the manual’s last line that froze everything at T minus zero entropy–“Big Bang not included.”

—John Orman

mjh’s 3rd: “Dreams”

The little girl dreamed of having a cat, ballet shoes, flawless skin, and her first school dance. As a collegian she dreamed of straight hair, iambic pentameter, and roaring lions on the steps of the White House. Then came the dream of the perfect soufflé and a baby supported by Ken, the perfect man. (This led to fantasies involving the mailman.) Following were visions of saving polar bears, going vegan, and educating the masses. World peace was in there somewhere.

Now she keeps it simple. She dreams of dancing the tango. And sex—coming out of nowhere sex—unexpected, intense, dripping, and hot—with a stranger. Saving the polar bears is still in there somewhere.

—Judy Garner

mjh’s Honorable Mention: “Not Art”

Dru catches fairies and bakes them into cakes. It’s not an art, she says, it’s a science. She wakes up early and stalks through the garden. The best fairies come out early. Who would want to eat those lazy fairies that only wake up at noon, to drag themselves out and slouch from tulip petal to tulip petal? No. That’s like buying Hershey’s chocolate when you know you could drive downtown and get the good German stuff for just a few dollars more. Only 2 a.m. fairies are cake-worthy. She grinds them into the batter, juices them into the frosting, decorates the top with their crunchy little bones. “Delicious.” She licks her fingers. “Science,” she says. “Not art.”

—Sara Cordova

alibi . june 14 – 20, 2007
http://www.alibi.com/index.php?story=19383&scn=feature
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[mjh: Until next year, I leave you with my entries from yesteryears:]

2006: mjh’s blog — I Submit

I Submit

2004: mjh’s blog — Ridiculously Short Fiction

Ridiculously Short Fiction

I’m nauseated by recent ads for video screens in cars and vans. One features a busload of unruly children, the other a classroom in chaos. In both, an adult flips down a tiny, worthless video screen and the children are instantly in their seats and transfixed faster than any medication could accomplish.

Leave aside that advertising routinely and perversely presents its customers as idiots. (This speaks volumes about what advertisers think of you and me.) You want discipline, order, quiet — drug ’em, Dan-o! Mesmerize them with TV, the babysitter they have known almost as long as Mom.

Mind you, I have two TVs and no kids. Further, I spent much of my youth and too much of the rest of my life in front of the idiot box, “the chattering cyclops,” as Sideshow Bob put it. I’m also a wireless fan and grasp the notion of always being jacked in. I’m no Luddite. However, for god’s sake, people, have the spine to discipline your children without drugs, electronica or bribes. Have the intelligence to entertain and educate them your own goddamn self. Teach them to read. On long car trips, teach them to sit and do nothing — it is a very valuable skill. If you can’t amuse yourself, your life will always be empty. mjh

PS: As the Journal reported on page one (ABQjournal: It’s Like a Couch on Wheels Albuquerque Demo Spotlights In-Car Satellite TV Service), you can also get a giant screen and huge satellite antenna for your van. Great for tailgating parties where no one wants to talk to anyone else. Now, you don’t have to miss the halftime shows or commercials while you kill yourself with food and alcohol in the parking lot. Go team!

[mjh: A couple of Journal columnists addressed this nonsense and similar commonsense recently]

ABQjournal: Talk Isn’t Cheap, Neither are Car TV Systems By D’Val Westphal Of the Journal

How on earth has my family survived without satellite television in our vehicles?

Silly us, we’ve been spending all our commutes, quick trips on errands and vacations actually talking to each other. … We could’ve been circling the block zoned out to “American Idol” instead. …

To those who opt for mobile satellite TV— many clearly will … — I’m glad you can get service for $4.99 a month. I’ll save my cash for an even safer, greener vehicle, and I’ll spend my drive time talking to my family for free.
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ABQjournal: Don’t Forget You’re Human By Jim Belshaw Of the Journal

The trouble with being invincible is that, when you’re flying around the inside of a disintegrating car or you find yourself in the middle of a dogfight (a very bad place to be, I can attest), your invincibility always takes a beating, and sometimes you take others down with you in the bargain.

So, not to be a pest or anything, when you take Fido out for a run put him on a leash. OK?

And when you’re driving over to the bosque for that morning’s jog, wear your damn seat belt.