(A corporate connection should be noted: Costas is represented by IMG, which owns half of Fleischer’s company.)
Example, from The New York Times (1/12/2010):
The How-To of an Admission in the Steroid Era
By RICHARD SANDOMIR
The strategy that Mark McGwire used Monday to lay out his admission to using steroids demonstrated that lessons were learned from other baseball stars who preceded him in making mea culpa about their drug use. He did it all in one afternoon, starting with a statement that was distributed widely to the news media, and that came across the Associated Press wire at 3 p.m. The A.P. followed quickly with a story that featured an interview with McGwire, who subsequently spoke to numerous other news media outlets—including USA Today and The St. Louis Post-Dispatch; Tim Kurkjian and John Kruk of ESPN (both by telephone, not on the air); KTRS Radio in St. Louis; and The New York Times, before talking to Bob Costas live at 7 p.m. Eastern on MLB Network.
The one-day plan—coordinated over the past month by Ari Fleischer, a former White House press secretary who runs a crisis-communications company, and the St. Louis Cardinals, who recently hired McGwire as their batting coach—contrasts with last year’s roll-out of Alex Rodriguez’s steroid admission. Last February, Rodriguez’s steroid use was first reported by Selena Roberts on SI.com; three days later, he confessed to ESPN in an interview with Peter Gammons that lacked adequate follow-up questions; eight days later, Rodriguez responded to questions at a news conference at the Yankees’ spring training camp as his teammates looked on. That all came more than a year after Rodriguez denied using steroids to Katie Couric of CBS News. Rodriguez lacked any arrogance in his confession, unlike Roger Clemens, whose drug-use denials have been defiant and angry. The genial Andy Pettitte took two months to speak about his use of human growth hormone after it was revealed in late 2007 in the Mitchell report that investigated drug use in baseball. McGwire had been silent since his embarrassing refusal to discuss his steroid use during a Congressional hearing nearly five years ago. His strategy back then, concocted with avoiding prosecution on his mind, made him appear hapless and as guilty as if he had confessed. This time, McGwire and his handlers surely knew his credibility would be enhanced if he confessed before spring training and made himself widely available, not only on Monday but Tuesday. An interview with ESPN is to be scheduled, but because it’s not exclusive, its thunder will be muted. McGwire’s personality has usually been low key, and he has not always been comfortable with the news media. In his repeated confessions Monday, he had no defiance or anger, just sadness and tears.
“I like the door-to-door strategy, in that he is telling his story in long form and in less confrontational settings,” said Kevin Sullivan, a former White House communications director who runs a strategic-communications company. “He needed to rip the Band-Aid off before heading to spring training.” Sullivan added: “I suspect McGwire will soon have some form of a press availability where he takes questions. He won’t be able to completely turn the page until he satisfies the pent-up demand and takes some questions.” The McGwire interview was a coup for the year-old MLB Network and justifies what the channel is paying Costas. It provided McGwire with a stage for acceptance on a channel that is majority-owned by the league that has, after a long goodbye, welcomed him back to his old team. MLB has a little more than half the subscribers ESPN has. But MLB had an edge in Costas if, indeed, McGwire wanted to be interviewed at length by a smart interrogator. (A corporate connection should be noted: Costas is represented by IMG, which owns half of Fleischer’s company.) Before he sat down to talk to McGwire, Costas said in a telephone interview, “Yes, they decided this was the place for Mark to tell the story, but not because it was the place where they’d get the easiest ride.” Costas said he talked to Cardinals Manager Tony La Russa last year about interviewing McGwire. “I said to Tony that if Mark hopes to be able to proceed from opening day on, he has to address this forthrightly, to answer all legitimate questions and all secondary ones,” Costas said. Tony Petitti, the president of the MLB Network, said that although talks with McGwire’s camp made it clear that McGwire was going to say something significant, he and Costas did not know until the release of McGwire’s statement exactly what it would be. “We didn’t see the release ahead of time and we had to react to what he was going to say,” Petitti said. Whatever it was, the channel was guaranteed the exclusive interview.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Commentary:
I’m embarrassed for my language, for my country. This article is rife with material: a former White House press secretary (Fleischer) and communications director (Sullivan) both heading “communication companies,” the one “crisis,” the other “strategic,” now pimping “roll-outs” for degraded professional athletes—the one in question here turned batting coach?
How high can they stoop?—to steal a line from Oscar Levant.
And Sandomir, conspiring with them all on the pages of the New York Times, in a gigantic apologia for each “player,” including himself, to make it all seem vaguely newsworthy. One wouldn’t have believed it, this sideshow. But that’s it: there’s no big tent anymore, only the ghost or ghost “footprint” of one, and it’s all sideshows, from pole to pole.
—by psymart
I would file this entry under the heading: “Bad Prose: Platitudes and Simplification.” For today, pundit David Brooks writes as follows: “During the first many decades of this nation’s existence, the United States was a wide-open, dynamic country with a rapidly expanding economy. It was also a country that tolerated a large amount of cruelty and pain—poor people living in misery, workers suffering from exploitation.”
Now, I want to suppose our man Brooks an educated man, even though he sat at the foot of W.F. Buckley. But in its “first many decades,” the U.S. “tolerated” not merely “misery” and “exploitation” of labor, but hereditary bond-slavery. Perhaps Mr. Brooks thinks slavery falls under the general heading of “workers suffering from exploitation.” But if he does, he has never read an honest account of the development of wealth in the “first many decades” of this nation’s existence. In 1860, one commodity alone accounted for 53% of revenues derived from exports: cotton. Which cotton, of course, was cultivated by laborers numbering in the millions (slaves), who were beaten, murdered, sold off, and raped with perfect impunity. Add to the revenues from cotton those from rice, sugar, and tobacco (all grown with slave labor) and you begin to get a clearer picture than the one our man Brooks would paint. And what did it take to resolve that problem of this peculiar form of “worker exploitation”? More than 600,000 dead in a Civil War. And then, after the Reconstruction was destroyed by white-supremacists, many more thousands dead black folk during the nations “many decades” of lynching terror. And then, finally, in 1964-65, America began to have a right to call itself a democracy.
Has David Brooks every opened a book by Frederick Douglass, W.E.B. DuBois, Richard Wright, or James Baldwin? Or by James McPherson? or by George Frederickson? Or by Winthrop Jordan? Or by Philip Dray? Or Rayford Logan? If he has, it availed him nothing.
Next our man Brooks writes: “The unregulated market wants to direct capital to the productive and the young. Welfare policies usually direct resources to the vulnerable and the elderly. Most social welfare legislation, even successful legislation, siphons money from the former to the latter.”
Now, insofar as an abstraction like “the unregulated market” can “want” to do something, it “wants” to find the cheapest labor and resources and the least regulation it possibly can. So, it “siphons” capital from U.S. labor markets to China, Mexico, Indonesia, and so on.
I suggest that Mr. Brooks visit Detroit, unescorted, and that he ask the impoverished people there what the market seems to “want.” I suggest that he visit Iowa to see what the market “wants” “Agri-business” (so-called) to do there in its unholy name: turn an entire state into a cornfield to produce not food, but raw materials for industrial production of chemicals that are then fabricated into “food”; and to use not the sun to grow that corn, but “fertilizers” derived from the energy of the sun as stored billions of years ago in petroleum. What the market “wants” in Iowa, if we are to know it by its fruits, as the Bible hath it, is this: depopulation & destruction of communities; one of the largest underground economies of methamphetamine in the U.S.; wash-out pollution into the rivers that winds up in the Gulf, where the “market” has apparently decided that it “wants” a dead-zone the size of thirty or forty counties. As Milton puts it in “Comus“:
“If every just man, that now pines with want,
Had but a moderate and beseeming share
Of that which lewdly-pamper’d luxury
Now heaps upon some few with vast excess,
Nature’s full blessings would be well dispensed
In un-superfluous even proportion,
And she no whit incumber’d with her store;
And then the giver would be better thank’d,
His praise due paid; for swinish gluttony
Ne’er looks to heav’n amidst his gorgeous feast,
But with besotted base ingratitude
Crams, and blasphemes his feeder.
Shall I go on? Or have I said enough?”
Reading the Op-Ed page of today’s New York Times today, I was struck by the gumption of journalists. First David Brooks, then Bob Herbert, then Roger Cohen. But it was this from Cohen that stood me up:
After 9/11 half of America went to war and the rest went shopping. Wall Street coined newfangled financial instruments to leverage the universe and Main Street fell for them. Division grew, fellowship withered. Everyone knew money could not really rain from the sky in the American dream factory but they went on playing their own versions of online solitaire.
Really? “Division grew, fellowship withered.” Breathtaking. I love it and I hate it, this biting off of the whole hog. Half did this, half that. Wall Street and Main Street as good-enough abbreviations for—well, it’s a stark 50/50, either-or enterprise, all the way through, isn’t it? Before 9/11, after 9/11. You, in your column, step up to the mound the opposing pitcher’s just vacated and scratch the dirt a couple of times with your foot. Now it’s your mound again. You have no time to do more than that. “Everyone knows” you have to start working, just as “everyone knew” that money doesn’t “really rain from the sky in the American Dream Factory.” So why not let the usual habits do their work? Why not take the nearest way?

Jacques Derrida, father of "deconstruction," enemy of "phallogocentrism."
Cohen is serious as he can be right here. He’s having no qualms. Louis Menand in the pages of The New Yorker is Hegelian in comparison. And then there are the clichès, “dichotomous thinking” being one example (in an infrastructural way); Main Street and Wall Street deployed as summary epithets being another; the “American Dream Factory” being a third.

Robert Putnam, lecturing to students (and to columnists).
And doesn’t the idea of “everyone playing their own versions of online solitaire” derive, unacknowledged, from another favored commonplace amongst columnists, which Robert Putnam bestowed on us all: “Bowling alone.” That’s what Americans do: they do the same things together alone.
And as for the “dichotomous thinking” we were so be-warned about in graduate school, the thinking that Deconstruction was to have taken care of, that we were all to have gotten beyond? Nothing doing. It’s the bedrock; any other kind of thinking in print or in speech is a waste of ink or breath.
But Cohen is right, isn’t he? On the whole, I mean—”Krugman-right,” so to speak. Right in a paltry, nude fashion. In a hard-headed, spit-it-out fashion. But it hurts. It makes me feel all the “invidious distinction” of my nine years in graduate school. The otioseness of me. And so I absolve myself after Groucho Marx, and say I wouldn’t want to do what Cohen does—could, but wouldn’t even if.
—by psymart
The Un-moored Pronoun

Martin Hiedegger
The following appears in the 8 November 2009 issue of The New York Times.
In Mr. Faye’s eyes Heidegger’s philosophy cannot be separated from his politics in the way, say, T.S. Eliot’s poetic skills or D. W. Griffith’s cinematic technique might be appraised independently of his own beliefs. While he doesn’t dispute Heidegger’s place in the intellectual pantheon, Mr. Faye reviews his unpublished lectures and concludes his philosophy was based on the same ideas as National Socialism.
Note that the phrases highlighted in bold are essentially parallel—or so one assumes on first reading the passage. And yet that second “his,” the “his” highlighted in red, seems rather to have lost its mooring. Shouldn’t the sentence read as follows? “In Mr. Faye’s eyes Heidegger’s philosophy cannot be separated from his politics in the way, say, T.S. Eliot’s poetic skills or D. W. Griffith’s cinematic technique might be appraised independently of their own beliefs.” Almost certainly the reference, here, is to the Anti-Semitic “beliefs” of Eliot and to the white-supremacist bearing of Griffith’s Birth of a Nation (based on Thomas Dixon‘s The Clansmen). Whereas “his,” as it works in the paragraph published in the NYT, floats in reference, almost as if its antecedent were, in fact, “Mr. Faye,” which simply cannot be the case, as I read the paragraph. I run across such solecisms in the NYT fairly regularly these days.






