Getting better about honoring my commitments

Since second semester of my junior year of college, I have a history of at least twice a year declaring "New Fricano." The first time it meant substituting tequila shots for beer because I was unhappy with my weight gain. (I just learned a few seconds ago that I was correct about shots having fewer calories! Hooray!!) Unfortunately, I didn't exercise and still ate like shit so I never lost an ounce.  Since then it has usually meant curtailing discretionary spending but also cutting back on fast food.

Last fall though it took on a new meaning—exercising more. Or more accurately ... exercising. One pair of work pants had become a wear-only-when-everything-else-is-at-the-cleaners item and my unshirted profile (see stomach chubb, or don't if you wouldn't want to be grossed out) in the mirror was making me embarrassed. The goal was to build up my endurance so that I could run 3-4 miles each time I ran and to run four days a week. Unfortunately, the day I chose to start it was already 90 degrees by 9:30 a.m. so my first run was about one mile, and I couldn't even make it the full distance without stopping to walk. After a month I had increased to only about 1.5 miles per run. Of course I was running only twice a week (at most). After a life of not running (boringness of running, love of inline skating, arthritic knees), it was hard to want to run especially in our neighborhood (lots of street crossings, narrow roads, hardly any street lights) at night.

The neighborhood we moved to last December helped me increase the running. With much wider streets, more street lights and fewer street crossings, I increased to two times a week (most weeks) and 2+ miles per run. And I was running at about an eight-and-a-half-minute-mile pace. But still ... I never pushed myself beyond that.

Then I went to Portland and Seattle this summer to visit my best friend from college, Bill. I got there on a Sunday night and for the entire week it was a taste-tastic vacation of amazing beer (no better city for a craft beer snob), indulgent food (I swear that every goddamned restaurant we went to served mounds of tater tots) and video games. The unsurprising side effect of my gluttony and sloth was that by late Thursday night I couldn't wait to get back to Bill's just so I could change out of the jeans I was wearing, which had become straight-jacketly constricting on my creeping chubb.

I have to give a quick shoutout to Bill who generously carts my ass around wherever I want to go pretty much and every time I'm there that includes hiking to the top of Multnomah Falls.

This year my friend Amy, who had recently moved to Portland from L.A., joined us. It was one of the things she wanted to do upon moving but hadn't had a chance prior to my visit. We had a great time and Bill was nice enough to email me this picture he took of us.

Well, I thought it was nice until I noticed that a fat guy (with no neck!) had stolen my identity. This made me feel worse than any photo of me since the one that appeared in my yearbook photo freshman year of high school. My reaction to that one was "Who is that ugly girl? ... Oh FUCK, it's me!" It was again "New Fricano" time, but this time there's no fucking around.

So since returning home on July 2, I've started the Mike Fricano body modification project. It involves running at least three days a week, but four if possible. I have increased my running distance to three to four miles per jog at a nine-minute-mile pace. I have stopped drinking at home (though I still drink plenty). I eat an arugula, cucumber and pepper salad almost every night before dinner thus keeping my entree portion size down and increasing my vitamin intake. I also have decreased my sugar-loaded Coffee Bean calorie fests (iced blendeds) from thrice (or even four times) a week to just once a week—a Saturday indulgence. I've even taken to counting how many potato chips I eat to make sure I stick to the recommended portion size on the bag.

The results have been awesome. I estimate that at least half an inch of chubb has disappeared from my waist; I can fit into those jeans very comfortably again and even those work pants. I have even started to enjoy running. There are nights when I'm driving home and I anticipate the feeling of driving home stinking of my own sweat.

The running, which usually happens around 10 p.m. has eaten into time I would read or blog, but I have no regrets. In my older age, I've had to learn to prioritize my desires. And right now, being unchubby is top of the list. This is not the sexiest post to renew my blogging, but I'm back!

I don't even like soccer or America but ...

... watching this feels a googolplex times more patriotic than wearing an Old Navy American Flag tshirt.

Thanks to Jimmy Traina at SI for this who got it from ... The U.S. women's soccer team pulled off a comeback win against Brazil Sunday as Abby Wambach tied the game with this impressive goal. The video below is the goal reworked to have Gus Johnson behind the mic. (Thanks to Kevin M., of College Park Md., for the link.)

Fine dining

Dinner at Gordon Ramsay at the London West Hollywood was Saturday night. I was nervous all week because my longtime susceptibility to canker sores flared up with at least three in the back of my mouth (including a big one on my right tonsil that caused a throat sore enough that made eating hard). Thankfully by Saturday I felt like I was about 85 percent healed and knew I'd be able to eat mostly problem free as long as I didn't talk too much Saturday at work. Thankfully, my co-worker A. stepped up and ran the staff meeting pretty much on her own.

The London West Hollywood is a hotel just south of the Sunset Boulevard, a particularly swanky section of Sunset Boulevard—point of reference, I parked directly in front of The Viper Room (RIP River Phoenix). On a couple of the Yelp! reviews people complained about rather exorbitant parking costs (someone mentioned $20). I had a 30 percent off coupon courtesy of Blackboard Eats, but I didn't want to piss that away on parking.

Once we entered the hotel, everything was very tony in a more classic sense. There was brass/gold and lots of white, as opposed to the stark brushed steel, dark wood aesthetic. I dug that. Incidentally, when we walked into the lobby we didn't know where the restaurant was but thankfully we had our choice of two suited-up dudes just standing in the small lobby who smiled in the ask-me-a-question-I'm-here-to-help way. So we did and were directed down the hall that shot off to the left and then proceeded to the end and made a right.

When we got there for our 7 o'clock reservation the restaurant was mostly empty. Saturday at 7 p.m. is an earlier time, but I'd been working all day and figured why wait. As we checked in, I made sure to tell the hostess that I was redeeming my discount coupon and gave her my printout with the discount code. Nothing says I belong at a michelin-starred restaurant like pulling a six-folded 8.5x11 piece of paper out of one of my back jeans pockets to get a discount.

First thing that surprised me: Gordon Ramsay at the London West Hollywood (the actual name of the restaurant) is in the same place as The Boxwood Cafe. It's so the same space that when you open the menu you have the Boxwood menu on the left and the fancier restaurant on the right. Btw, the more casual cuisine at Boxwood (that's where you can order a burger) is still uncheap. The entrees range from $16 to $34.

The first decision was whether to get the three-course meal for $68 a person or the five-course for $82. Our waiter, Jose, who wore the standard uniform gray suit, white shirt, no tie. Jose had told us that the serving sizes were "European" meaning smaller as an enticement to order the five-course. After several minutes of deliberating G, one of my former students who now works for the city of SF, and I each decide on the three-course. I recalled my Craft experience of how a slowly consumed multi-course meal of smaller portions (meaning not TGI McOliveBee's Lobster size) could be perfectly satisfying.

As I've learned from my whopping five fine-dining sorties, the menu doesn't offer lots of choices, because the idea is that these dishes required lots of creativity and skill and some pricey ingredients so let's specialize in a few and just be aces with them. Suck on that Cheesecake Factory!

Before the appetizers came they brought us a canape of very thin crustini to dip into the silkiest thing I've ever ate—mascarpone, white truffle oil and olive oil. Several Yelpers said that this was their fave thing. I don't think I'd go that far, but still ... this was unlike anything I'd ever eaten and the best example of textural contrast I've ever eaten.

The canape was a big contrast to the standard dinner bread, which had a too-hard crust and was otherwise just slightly above average. :(

Then come the official appetizers. Sadly, I forgot what kind of Pinot Noir I ordered. I remember only that I allowed our waiter to choose it and that it cost $22 a glass.

I order the Tagliatelle with Charred Octopus as my appetizer. The pasta was perfectly al dente, the tomato sauce had a tiny hint of sweetness but wasn't too sweet. Still it was just well-cooked pasta, right? Wrong, with the octopus it was fantastic, though charred outside it wasn't dried out or too chewy. The octopus was cut into thin slices, like penny-sized and the charring added a texture and smokiness that mixed great with the pasta.

G got the foie gras with toast and a smoked ice cream, which neither of us remembers the precise flavor of. She said it was excellent though.

Entree: Scallops and Pork Belly with multiple vegetable purees. Double SAD:, I don't remember what specifically. One was green and one was reddish though. Seeing the three sauces, the two huge diver scallops resting on juicy pork belly and one of those towers was topped with a shiny golden fried quail egg, whoa. You definitely eat first with your eyes. The waiter explained that my dish was very complex and had "lots of flavors" happening.

The scallop was super juicy and the flakey pieces slip off so smoothly when cut that the butter knife was more than sufficient to slice it. It was so fresh that eating it solo was tasty, but combined with the pork belly and purees, it was divine.

G got the chateuabriand, which according to the internet and our waiter, is the best part of a cow. It's the thick center of the tenderloin. I don't eat mammals, but since this might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I caved and tasted two small bites after G offered. We of course wanted to share as much as possible. (I think G had some kind of pork app, because I didn't try that.) The steak was very good, though since she ordered it medium, it wasn't as juicy as I used to eat steak. Nevertheless, if I had chateaubriand every time mom force fed me steak as a kid, I'll bet that I'd still eat beef.

I'm such a beef and high-end dining novice, that I didn't even know that this was a cut of beef that you could get, let alone that it was considered among the very best.

After that came dessert. G and I each ordered the chocolate cylinder. It's about 2.5 inches tall and thin, like an old school film canister. Inside there's roasted marshmallow that's crispish on top and melty below--think Smorelike--and then under that some caramel crunchiness, maybe peanuts. To the side is almost a golfball hazelnut ice cream. The hazelnut was by far the star of the dessert, which was otherwise good. Of my fine dining experiences, this was easily the most average dessert.

In fact, the average note of the dessert pushed this experience down below Craft and Silfur (in Reykjavik) on my list of best restaurant meals ever. Still, though, it was amazing. I mean, we're talking like distinctions between 98, 97 and 96.

Two last things, they forgot to apply my 30 percent off discount when they brought my bill. I didn't notice at first and just gave them my card. In part because I wanted to get going since I'd already gone past my two-hour meter by about 5 minutes. But when I was about to sign I looked more carefully and the bill was $224 pre-tip. WHAT? Thankfully, once I told Jose he cancelled the first charge and they re-ran my card. The new bill was only $156ish. Whew! Much better. Since we're instructed to tip based on the original bill, it came to about $98 a piece. This is the most expensive meal I've ever eaten, but totally worth it. It was outstanding. And, I managed to avoid the parking ticket!

Great comment from my friend Kerri: I assume these dishes weren't coated in a thick layer of cheese. You forgot to include that in your differences with TGI McOliveBee's Lobster. I'm with you on pulling out the folded coupon. I hate that feeling.

The Internet makes us all famous

In this video, my friend Rich from Newhouse is a wingman in this extreme eating challenge. Here's his blog post about the challenge. I admire Rich for writing a brief blogpost rather than a Fricano. Interestingly, I'd never heard of Scrapple before this. I wish I hadn't.

What dead quantum mechanics cats can teach us about teacher evaluations

One of my favorite books is Moneyball my Michael Lewis. In it, Lewis profiles Oakland A's general manager Billy Beane's methods of scouting baseball players and composing a major league team and drafting new players for the minor league farm system. Working in one of baseball's smallest television markets and having one of the smallest budgets, Beane has pretty consistently put together teams that are very competitive with his large-market competitors like the New York Yankees. They don't win championships at the same rate, but are one of the standards for how to run a small-business in a big-business world.

The chief way Beane did this was to quantify baseball in a statistically relevant way. Though ironically, baseball was the sport that produced more statistics than any other (which geeks like me memorized as kids), most of the numbers we memorized had little to do with predicting future success or measuring how a player made a true statistically valid impact on the game.

Like anyone who wants to do something new, Beane met resistance from lots of veterans who said "we've always done it this way." But his success validated his change in thinking and influenced many teams to adopt what have become known as "moneyball" strategies. Combine those strategies with actual money and you get the Boston Red Sox of the past 8ish years.

Anyway, I was so taken with Beane and his assistants' application of rigorous statistical analysis to a seemingly complex sea of numbers and variables, that like many who paid him to speak to their companies I started thinking that we just need better analysis and more things can certainly be quantified. Moneyball wasn't about baseball, it was about re-thinking and the power of math and education. In a weird way, I got so drunk on moneyball that I started half-equating climate change deniers and Creationists with those old baseball scouts who just wanted to keep doing things the way they've been doing them.

When the L.A. Times published an investigative series about using value-added analysis (my short definition: seeing how much students improved from year to year on standardized tests) I was so impressed by the apparent rigor of it, that I started coming around to believe that this type of analysis should be PART (about 20 percent maybe 33 percent) of teacher evaluations. Sadly for the L.A. Times its methods have since been called into question by one of the people it quotes in the story as someone who backed up the Times' numbers and conclusions.

What does this have to do with dead cats and quantum mechanics?

This article in The Economist, which basically says that what-many-now-see-as-the-MBA-ization-of-education has historical roots in failure. The Economist piece by I can't tell who (dammit Economist be better than that), notes that a couple centuries ago some Germans wanted to get better timber yield from their forests so they took some rudimentary measurements and eventually planted one species exclusively in very dense rows. At first huge success, but then the disaster of unforeseeable (at the time because of our lack of understanding about soil microbiology) consequences, like high susceptibility to disease and depletion of soil nutrients because one kind of tree will want the same thing.

But the greater premise, which the above example merely illustrates, is that efforts to "read" a population consequently beget efforts to transform that population to make it more "readable."

Finally, here comes the dead quantum mechanics cat. In 1935 Austrian physicist Erwin Schrödinger, developed a paradoxical thought experiment that essentially said if you put a radioactive substance that has a 50-50 chance activate in an hour and a cat in a box, after an hour the cat could be dead or alive, or is in fact dead and alive. Ultimately he didn't argue that it's both simultaneously, merely that one's conclusions are dependent on observation.

The Economist notes: Daniel Koretz, the Harvard education professor recognized as the country's leading expert on academic testing, writes in his book Measuring Up that Campbell's Law is especially applicable to education; there is a preponderance of evidence showing that high-stakes tests lead to a narrowed curriculum, score inflation, and even outright cheating among those tasked with scoring exams.

So by trying to measure teacher's competence with a students' standardized test how can we not be redefining the very nature of teaching into a way that no longer measures competence at inspiring students to explore, drilling cogent facts into them, encouraging ethical intellectual behavior, and demonstrating the importance of common sense?

The Economist piece closes by citing examples from South Korea and Finland (a country lauded in Waiting for Superman, though sadly the most important lessons of Finland aren't advocated for, instead the documentary pushes testing!); these countries "[rely] more on systems of peer review and intensive comment and training from in-school "master teachers", as well as making teachers' jobs involve much more time planning their lessons in groups with other adults.

I agree with the blogger who posted this on The Economist website. The common sense of using master teachers to do more in-service training is so obvious that it almost hurts. I haven't totally given up on a form of value-added analysis being incorporated into evaluations but I'm thinking much more like 10 percent. If we're sincere that children are our future and our most precious resource, then we need to invest in them with hard money. That doesn't mean using MBA cost-cutting and efficiency findings. It means hiring more teachers and aides and yes, perhaps even more assistant principals to serve as these "master teachers." This also would create additional middle class professional jobs, and the people who fill those jobs would spend money ... and create tax revenues and ...

My favorite thing about the Internet is the availability of information, specifically information that makes me rethink about important topics. And this piece in The Economist has certainly got me doing that.

I interrupt this blog to confess my language ignorance

About six or seven years ago my old roommate Scott and I learned that we had been using "nonplussed" incorrectly. We each thought it meant "unimpressed" or "unmoved," though in fact it means "to render utterly perplexed; puzzle completely," according to Dictionary.com. As the great Ben Yagoda puts it in this unknown-supercommon-mistakes-we-all-make exposing piece on Slate.com: "nonplussed from ... fazed to unfazed."

Now I have a Masters degree in journalism from the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communication at Syracuse University and was (and still am) teaching writing at a teen newspaper. Scott was at the time a Ph.D. student at UCLA. We grew up together and attended a fine middle class suburban school in Western New York. We were each amazed that we were incorrect. Though neither of us could pinpoint when we learned the word, we each felt like we had learned it with its incorrect meaning around high school. We're well-read intelligent people, so how the hell did this happen?

Well Yagoda seems to be saying that it's basically societal language (de)-evolution. Examples abound (well, only three and since this post is about language I ought to at least clarify my exaggerations, but I'm exaggerating because that many misuses of relatively common words did embarrass me) in the piece that exposed more than my misuse of "non-plussed."

Momentarily. -- It traditionally meant for a short time, but now commonly means very soon.

Begs the question. -- In a logical argument it meant when one explains something by the fact that it is so. Begthequestion.info's example: "I think he is unattractive because he is ugly." It has become misused to mean "raises the question." I have used this with my students and even gotten them to use it. I've passed along misinformation.

Fortuitous. -- Traditionally this meant "accidental." It has come to be used to mean "lucky." I'm guessing that this is because a synonym for lucky is fortunate, and the shared "fort" beginning has created an erroneous historically logical connection.

Later in his piece, Yagoda writes about when should a person fight to preserve the proper historical usage and when does doing so render one pretentious or even confusing.

He brings up examples of pompons v. pompoms (which I've fought to preserve, though I'm not sure why given the widely accepted new spelling) and not ending a sentence in a preposition, which I've given up only in the last few years.

I must admit that part of the reason I've hung onto pompons is because it's so obscure and I like sounding smart. I've never been an athlete, nor was I tall, dark and rico suave, nor a great musician (though not bad). However, I was usually smarter than almost anyone I met in elementary school and even high school. As a nerd, who has become a word nerd (werd? as I steal from L.A. Youth alum Seth S.), I like to showoff in front of my students from time to time.

But what next? I'm not sure. I am going to try to be less end-of-discussion-because-I'm-smarter-than-thou. As I also tell my students (when not propagating misuses of begs the question), the older you get the more you'll learn that you have a lot to learn. So I shall (will?) try to take my own advice and pay closer attention to language so that I continue to learn to use it better, smarter and more clearly.

P.S. I used the title "I interrupt this blog ..." because I had planned to blog about something else today and even scheduled posts for the next week. But this was urgent!

Irony and the Presidency

On the day Barack Obama formally announced his run for re-election in 2012, his administration also announced that it was kowtowing to Republican (among others) demands not to hold the trial of suspected 9/11 mastermind Khalid Shaikh Mohammed in New York civilian court.

I've spent the parts of the last two years defending Obama's record in the face of criticism who feel as though his Presidency hasn't maintained the magical unicornness of his campaign. They're right, because governing is like making sausage, ugly to know what goes into it. Nevertheless, we got Health Care Reform (minus the public option), a huge stimulus package, financial reform (though highly neutered), the feds to agree to stop defending DOMA, two more women onto the Supreme Court, a consumer protection czar who looks like she has teeth.

So the announcement that he was caving into the likes of Sen. Jeff Sessions (R-Ala), who claims to love this country, but clearly has no faith in its justice system to try Mohammed, was disheartening. Republican NYC Mayor Michael Bloomberg wanted the trial in New York, as did hundreds of family members of 9/11 victims. If those with the most at stake can see the wisdom of not allowing our basest instincts for retributive justice degenerate into revenge-at-all-costs-accountability-be-damned military commissions, why can't the decision-makers like Sessions? And why did AG Eric Holder and Obama cave? They said it was because Congress de-authorized funding for prisoner transfers from Gitmo to the States.

But to me this is a case of needing to stand up for our ideals in the face of resistance and challenge. I felt like W failed the test of compromise-vs-ideals-maintenance repeatedly, always adhering to NeoCon foreign policy even in the absence of evidence, see: Iraq. Here I want Barack to stand fast though. He wouldn't be standing up for Mohammed or Dems or even just this one case, but for the American ideals of accountable justice.

If we want to be leaders in the world, then we must lead, which means make the tough choices not the expedient ones.

A Vegas first

I've been to Las Vegas enough times that there aren't many firsts left for someone of my income bracket. But this past Sunday, I dipped a toe into a different income strata and got to see Sin City from a new perspective ...

That's the view from The House of Blues Las Vegas Foundation Room which sits atop Mandalay Bay at the south end of The Strip. In a Spaceballsian bit of fortune, my college roommate's friend's brother's friend is Rob Belushi. Rob is an actor and also the son of James Belushi. Rob, who I met Sunday night on my 24-hour Vegas sojourn, was supremely generous and hooked up his friend, Tim, and then Tim's brother, Andy, and the rest of our usual Vegas crew by getting us on the list at the Foundation Room.

In addition to getting on the list, and a host taking us up the private elevator, we also scored a free round of drinks. BONUS because I was able to get a glass of 25-year-old Macallan scotch, which runs at least $477 a bottle according to the quickie Google search I just ran. Incidentally, we ventured into a club that served bottles of Macallan 25 for $2457ish.

But as amazing as it was to get a free glass of a scotch that I might not have again for a loooooong time and which was simply amazing, the views were even better (see above).

The rest of the trip though taught me one vital lesson, I cannot gamble alone nor ironically under a clock. While we were waiting to go from Mandalay Bay to another club, that Rob was awesome enough to hook us up to via a comp'd limo, we had about 25 minutes to kill gambling.

I sat down at a $15 blackjack table, which is actually the first time I'd sat down at such a high limit (welcome to non-profit teen newspaper editor Vegas guy's blog). Well, with only a few minutes to play I am not content to bet $15 a hand, but instead am betting $25 a hand, since throwing in one of my few green chips is easier than three reds. I know it's not, but it seemed it at the time. :o

Well, the higher limit sends Bill packing pretty fast but I am hanging on thanks to a big bet that came in. However, my up $50 quickly became a break even again. Sitting alone, I had the most intense bout of stupid recklessness of my gambling life. I put $100 on a single hand of blackjack. I've done this before, but this was the first time I ever did it WITHOUT feeling like I wanted to throw up. (A whole new sign of WHATTHEFUCKHAPPENEDTOME?)

Of course ... I get dealt something like a 15 (I've blocked out the details) and the dealer gets something like a 20. Needless to say voila $100 hand. Do I cut my losses at down $100 for the quick blackjack session?

UM ... I think you know where this is going ...

NO. I took a version of my bad joke advice and chased my big loss by betting big! And threw down another $100 bet (at, yes, a mere $15 table). And well, 30 seconds later I was down $200.

Thankfully the rest of the night was good times just hanging with the guys and I was still basking in the glow of a lucky, tense Arizona win over Texas.

------------

Weirdest sight (BY FAR): a dude in an ASU t-shirt cheering for UofA during the NCAA tournament game against Texas. I didn't even know how to feel about this one. I know that there's no fucking way I'd cheer for ASU against any other team or even against getting sprayed by a skunk.

When editors are tone deaf

AOL, which owns TechCrunch and Moviefone, has gotten on the media-ethics-transparency radar because of a request relayed by the latter asking the former to tone down the snark in a review of the new Summit Entertainment movie Source Code.

The review writer, Alexia Tsotsis, balked at the request and standing up for independent editorial control everywhere outed Moviefone for passing along Summit's request.

In her response, Moviefone ed-in-chief Patricia Chui wrote:

2) This is important: We never told TechCrunch to change the post in any way. A publicist at Summit reached out asking if we could convey the studio's feedback to TechCrunch. We did so. If the editors had responded that they declined to edit the post -- which, naturally, is entirely their call -- we simply would have conveyed that information back to Summit.

The reality of our situation is that, as a movies site, we work with movie studios every day, and it is in our best interests to stay on good terms with them.

Here's where we get to the tone deaf editor part: 

Staying on good terms with studios means that we will relay information if asked. It does not mean that we would ever force a writer or an editor to edit their work for the sake of a studio -- or anyone else.

We take editorial integrity seriously at Moviefone, and it's painful to be depicted as a pawn of the studios when that is emphatically not the case. You may think it unseemly for a studio to request changes in an article; that's certainly your right. But the accusation of pandering on our part or crossing an editorial line is, to my mind, completely unfair, and I would hope that a reasonable reader would be able to recognize the situation for what it is -- overblown and unwarranted

Relaying information, if asked, as a way to stay on the good side of an industry that a reporter writing for a site owned by your corporate parent is covering might not qualify as pawnhood. But the great fear First Amendment defenders have is that the consolidated media will severely curtail what should be our freest marketplace of all—that of ideas and opinions.

And Chui's wet-tissue defense of serving as an intermediary of a request to ALTER EDITORIAL COVERAGE is a stark naked example that fear manifest.

The absolute last thing any critic wants is for her/his readers to question their objectivity, a concern grossly exacerbated already when the studios own publications, too. (I've always been impressed with how Warner Bros. movies can get ripped in Entertainment Weekly, both of which are owned by Time Warner.)


So when Chui tosses off this entire matter as overblown, she tacks on the perfect coda to her tone deaf editing symphony. Not only does she not get what she did was wrong on the micro level of the appearance of trying to influence coverage, but she also blows the macro level by failing to recognize why this example of fears of choked independent media was a big deal in the first place.

1,000 words

As a writer I value the power of words so much; they have made me feel triumph, love, grief, lust, fear, evil and the miraculous. But as an evolutionary creature I am also moved by the image and this picture from post-quake/tsunami Japan broke my heart more than anything I've read. It's 5-year old Neena Sasaki, carring some of her family belongings from her home that was destroyed after the devastating earthquake and tsunami on March 15 in Rikuzentakata, Miyagi province. (Paula Bronstein/Getty Images, via the Big Picture).

I'm not an image stealer, so please click on either of the links above to see the image in high-resolution on the Boston Globe website.