Happy 2009!

Doesn't it seem like yesterday that everyone was bracing for the Y2K "disaster" that never came?

And here we are -- another New Year in its infancy. I'm not one for resolutions, but you're reading one of them. I resolve to get out my feelings more this year. They're disjointed, with no connection whatsoever, but here they are.

By this time next year I'll be the mother of an official driver-license-holding teenager, on her way to spreading her wings for independence. I've devoted so much of my being to this child that I'm not sure I'm ready for the empty nest.

She's beautiful, brilliant and sensitive -- exactly what this world needs for its future. Can I let her go? I don't know. She needs to be let go, and I hope and pray I'm not so selfish I can't let that happen. I love her fiercely. She's my life's joy.

I'm recovering from some funky stomach malady, so the first nibble of the day wasn't black-eyed peas and greens. I hope the New Year's gods can forgive this indiscretion and bless me with luck. It would be nice to win the lottery, but you have to play to win. If I can't swoop up on Powerball winnings, I hope I can at least keep my head above water this year.

My little dog isn't getting any younger. He's had eye and back problems this year. I wish him an easy, healthy year as we grow older together.

It's my fervent prayer that the economy pull out of this dismal slump. Uppermost in my mind, of course, is the fate of newspapers. So many good people have devoted their lives to the truth with very few monetary rewards. Please, for their sake -- for my sake, even -- don't let newspapers die. We're not perfect, but we're out there trying our damnedest to give the public an unbiased look at the events coloring their world. The same cannot be said of so many bloggers and citizen journalists, many of whom color themselves as objective but reveal their bent. Kind of like Faux News with a keyboard.

(And yes, I do realize I'm using a blog as my podium. I, however, make no claim to be a journalist here. This is where I blow off steam -- it's subjective, and I have no plans to change that.)

I have high hopes for our new POTUS. Barack Obama is no messiah, but he gives me optimism. New ideas are needed. The status quo is not working. I now count down the days to the end of the error -- a man neither elected by the people nor for the people.

Reading about the possibility of Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner having a New Year's baby makes me smile. It's irrelevant to my daily life, but I think they're absolutely darling. So many times I've latched my hopes onto a Hollywood couple -- Brad and Jennifer, Reese and Ryan -- only to see it end in divorce. (I still haven't forgiven Brad for cheating with Angelina Whorlie.) I have faith in the Afflecks. They seem ... almost normal.

Why was Friends the last great sitcom? I love The Office, but there is still a void left by the six people who gathered in my living room every Thursday to make me laugh .. and cry. Though I've always loved Friends, I still mourn for the pre-Monica Chandler and the Joey who was dumb and lovable, not brain dead.

Of course, Jim Halpert does help ease the pain somewhat ... (Is he gorgeous or what?!?)

And speaking of guys who make you drool, I'd gladly be Rob Pattinson's cougar. Long or short hair, bald ... I don't care. Just in case anyone out there knows him and wants to pass the word ...

Happy New Year, everyone! Both of you.

I am heartbroken

My first foray onto the Internet today, and this is the first thing I see.

I loved Tim Russert. His was the rare voice of reason in broadcast journalism. He loved his job and politics, and it mattered to him that people knew what was going on.

My heart, though heavy, goes out to his family and co-workers.

God bless you, Tim Russert. And thank you for the insight and raising the bar.

*Real* journalists? Pffft!

OK, I'm pissed.

I just read a blog from a guy who was touting that he was a "real" journalist because his blog "broke a story." Then he chided an actual newspaper for "claiming to break the story.

Puhleeze.

The "story" that was broken was a link. No details -- just here it is, folks.

The newspaper, on the other hand, had a reporter who actually made phone calls and dug for facts. Furthermore, the reporter's name -- his REAL name -- was at the top of the story. Not some pseudonym or cutesy screen name to hide behind and to abandon when the heat's too hot in the kitchen.

I like blogs. Hell, here I am spouting off on one. And I won't deny for a minute that I'm using my own cutesy screen name.

Is this a news source? HELL NO. I'm not even going to pretend it is. It's my forum for letting it all out. Sometimes, I use it as a sounding board about current events. But breaking news on it? Hardly.

I've broken a few stories in my day -- using my name. My real name. Have I received criticism? Sure. If I put it on the line, I should take my licks like a big girl. In my real name.

There are some good blogging news sources. But there are more (and they're breeding like bunnies, folks) bad ones who want to play "journalist" without getting their hands dirty.

To give the devil his due, there are some bad journalists out there, too. (Jayson Blair or Jean Cooke, anyone?) But, believe it or not, they're a rarity.

Most journalists are underpaid and overworked. They care about getting the most accurate facts to you. They confront politicians on behalf of you.

Sometimes, what looks like a good news story just doesn't have the facts behind it to come together. The reputable journalist will recognize that. His real name and reputation are on the line, after all.

OK, this is disjointed and in all likelihood, not my best work. But there it is. And even without my real name on it, I'll take my licks.

After all, I'm on both sides.

With apologies to William Penn

I have a love-hate relationship with the AP Stylebook. It's my work bible.

Looking for shorthand for "until"? It's not "til." It's "till." I can back that up with Stylebook passage.

I'm well-versed in it, but like most followers, I still uncover surprises. And Norm, the AP god who deigns what is proper and improper in The Book for its annual publication, sometimes changes his mind. It drives me mad when he does that.

Here's an example: For years, Norm declared that "fund raising" was two words; "fundraiser," however, was one. Until 2005, when the AP god wed "fund" to "raising" and decreed it one word.

(I still wonder why it took him years to merge the words "teen" and "ager" to make one word. I think he finally did it when he realized that every editor, including me, ignored his edict and blended them anyway. Like some Christians, we editors can become rather cafeteria-minded when it comes to what we want to believe.)

One place I won't deviate, however, is in the case of state abbreviations. Norm, not the U.S. Postal Service, has it right. It's "Tenn.," not "TN" for my state of domicile. "Ohio" should be spelled out in its entirety (come on, people; it's only two more letters. Are we really that lazy?)

In one instance, USPS and Norm are in complete concert. "Pennsylvania," according to both PTB, is abbreviated "Pa."

I once had an editorial assistant who abbreviated it "Penn." It set my teeth on edge. We went round and round. I flung The Book at her, showing her the correct passage. She'd smile and nod ... then abbreviate it "Penn." the next time. Grrrrrrr.

So you can see why my teeth were set on edge when I read the article about the passing of Werner von Trapp, one of the von Trapps from Sound of Music fame. As I read about his life, I came across the following:

After the Trapp Family Singers retired, von Trapp helped to found a music school in Reading, Penn., called the Community School of Music.

I don't even remember the rest of the article. I stumbled on that abbreviation and choked.

Do I even have to mention the article's source? The Associated Press. Yes -- the one and the same. The one that cuts Norm his paycheck for being its deity and editing its holy grail that we, the lowly editors of newspapers, must adhere.

What kind of editors are looking over AP copy? In my not-so humble opinion, the answer is either A) None; or B) Ones who suck.

Furthermore, why aren't the reporters checking their abbreviations? State abbreviations are taught in Copy Editing 101.

Go get 'em, Norm!

She's full of excrement

No way in hell would I sign that joke Angelina Whorlie's attorney is passing off as a media contract to interview his client and her concubine, Brad's the Pitts. Furthermore, any editor and/or publisher should be fired and shamed out of the profession if they affix their names to such a document.

Shame on you, Whorlie! This is even a low step for you, you brother-kissing, blood-vial-wearing, husband-stealing, calling-your-baby-a-blob piece of shit.

And people wonder why I won't give you or your films the time of day. Stop the bullshit, and go tend to your flock. They need a mother.

And stop collecting them. Stamps are for collecting, children are not. You, my dear, are no Mia Farrow. You'll never see the day when you're good enough to scrub Mia Farrow's toilet.

What's worse?

cup of joe powell/ is quickly becoming one of my favorite bloggers.

Today, he has a link to Media Matters.0 In light of the Don Imus situation, they've taken on other talk jocks -- Neil Boortz and Michael Savage among them.

Both of these talk jocks have prominent places on the local NewsTalk lineup. Boortz was on my list the first day I heard him, when he referenced "the Japs." And Savage is offensive every time he opens his mouth.

Media Matters includes e-mail addresses for the talk jocks. I suggest a third: e-mail our own local station and ask that they be taken off the airwaves. Here you go: wnox.news@citcomm.com