Clinamen

I'm teaching a course entitled "Anthologics" this semester. This is a word that I kind of made up. I say "kind of" for a couple of reason. For one, no one makes up a word...it's all a matter of citation. But also, as I was writing my course description I stumbled into a post by Derek that mentions this word (Derek? You out there? Did I steal your word?) Anyway, students are creating their own anthologies based on a topic of their choice. They're compiling sources, designing a book jacket using InDesign, and writing a book proposal (crafted for a particular publisher).

In between dissertation writing and job material stuff, I've been thinking about a paper I'll be giving at 4C's this Spring. Yes, it's a long way off, but I think this paper is a kernel of the "next project." I've still got plenty of work to do on "Hospitable Texts," but it's also fun to think about what I'd like to do next. The question I'm interested in has to do with rhetoric and quickness. If arguments are arriving (solicited and unsolicited) at our doorstep, are we to make attempts to slow things down or is this a naive pursuit? Put another way, if "soundbyte culture" defines our current cultural moment, do we continue to fight the fight of putting things "back into context" or, again, is this a naive pursuit? How do we deal with speed and quickness? Do we slow things down, provide context, map the controversy?

My brother is the numbers guy in the family, and he could tell you a great deal more about the problems at Lehman Brothers these days. I won't even attempt a detailed discussion of it. The important point: Lehman Brothers is a casualty of the current "recession" (if the economists are using that word yet).

A couple of weeks ago, John McCain's speechwriters were accused of lifting text directly from Wikipedia. Some (including the McCain people) have said that the phrases lifted were common knowledge and that "there are only so many ways to state basic historical facts." True, there are only so many ways...but it did seem like the speechwriter(s) might have had some help from Wikipedia. As I've stated before, this is kind of beside the point. Why not cite a source anyway? Why not point people to a really good book that provides a more in-depth discussion of what you are merely glossing? It would be nice if politicians did this.

Sometimes I forget to listen. This happens in various situations: conversations with friends (and girlfriend), conversations with relatives, conversations with colleagues. I forget to listen. I get wrapped up in what I want to say.

This flaw sometimes finds its way into my writing. I also sometimes forget to listen when it comes to research. I'm reading Latour's Reassembling the Social, and while I won't be applying his Actor-Network Theory in any direct way (at least not in my dissertation...I can see myself considering ANT for a future project) the book has already reminded me that the best research happens when we just listen. That listening needs to happen regardless of how messy things get. Don't take my word for it, listen to Latour:

There is speculation that a McCain speechwriter lifted some phrases about Georgia from a Wikipedia article (link via Wikipedia Blog).

According to Taegan Goddard of Political Insider, here are the three instances that people are focusing on:

First instance:

one of the first countries in the world to adopt Christianity as an official religion (Wikipedia)

vs.

one of the world's first nations to adopt Christianity as an official religion (McCain)

Second instance:

Last week, I wondered whether adding information about the John Edwards "love child" controversy to Edwards' Wikipedia article was way to sneak a smear in through the backdoor. Well, Edwards has admitted to the affair (though, he denies the "love child" part).

So, it seems The Enquirer was on to something, regardless of whether it is a "legitimate" news source. And here we are - less than two weeks removed from an edit war - with a John Edwards Wikipedia article that isn't even locked. Here's the section on Edwards' affair:

Slate's Paul Boutin lauds Friendfeed because it's not as demanding as all of those other Web 2.0 applications:

No, I don't want to use Twitter. I'm way too busy—and, let's be honest, too uninterested (and uninteresting)—to spend all day thumb-typing status updates from my cell phone. That's the problem with Web 2.0 services like Twitter, Flickr, YouTube, Digg, and the rest: They expect me to eagerly upload, type, click, and tweet my life onto the Internet so these tidbits can be served to others. What I really want is to be able to reap the advantages of these sites without having to lift a finger—to see what my friends are up to without having to write anything myself.

As the pirates "retool" the farm system yet again (*sigh*), it's the time of year again where one has to have a sense of humor about being a Pirates fan. It is for this reason that I bring you "Batting Stance Guy" impersonating Pittsburgh Pirates past and present. This dude is impressive - I especially enjoyed Stargell, Kendall, and LaRoche:

Link Via Where Have You Gone Andy Van Slyke

Wikipedians are grappling with the story of John Edwards and his "love child." The usual arguments of "liberal bias" are floating around, but it seems reasonable to question a story that is only being reported by two media outlets: The National Enquirer and Fox News.

The issue at hand seems to be "verifiability." What constitutes a "verifiable" fact? This is Wikipedia's threshold for what can be included in an article. If it can be cited, it can (in most cases) be included in the article. But what about a story that is just simmering below the surface? A story that is only being reported by two sources, one of which is a tabloid and another which seems to have a very distinct political agenda?

Currently, the John Edwards article references the scandal this way: