me on the cbc; trivial pursuit

Oh, there is one other bit of news. Thanks to the glorious reporting skills of Katherine, yours truly will be on CBC Radio One this Saturday. It’ll be just after the 2 p.m. news on Definitely Not the Opera, the CBC’s pop culture show. I’m not sure what made it through the edits, but I’m probably talking about the Mazie Project or blogging in general. If any of my Canadian homies saw fit to tape the show, I would be, commes les Quebecois disent, toujours reconnaissant.
This knocks a big item off my life to-do list (“Have my voice broadcast to the people of my ancestral lands”). Canadaphiles unite!
One other thing I feel I should mention, if only to taunt Fiona, the friend I was visiting in Boston last weekend. Fiona’s a very, very bright woman. Just a couple of weeks ago, she got a master’s at Harvard, to add to her Yale degree and her two years spent teaching in a Princeton program in China.
Aside from her intelligence, Fiona can also be very competitive. Which is why it gets to her that she will never defeat me in Trivial Pursuit.
I’ve probably played Trivial Pursuit fewer than a dozen times in the last decade — except for those times I’m with Fiona. She always wants to play. It started five years ago, just after our college graduation, when I was spending a couple of weeks at her house in Seattle. (We were dating at the time.)
We played a few games. And I won them all. From that point on, it became a matter of principle — she had to keep trying to even the score.
Unfortunately for Fiona, it’s never happened. We haven’t kept count of how many games we’ve played, but it’s certainly into the dozens. I’m something like 38-0. Fiona doesn’t like losing. At all.
So Sunday, when I was about to get on my flight back to Dallas, she decided to challenge me again. The first game was close — but I still won. Poor Fiona — her need for a victory reduced her to begging for odd rules (like, “Let’s play a partial game I can end early, and whoever’s ahead at that point will be an official winner”). In the end, we decided to rush through one more complete game. Six pie pieces to three: it wasn’t close.
I’ve thought about throwing a game to make her feel better. But then I realize that in a couple of years, she’ll be busy curing diseases, snipping out tumors, and otherwise saving lives. And I’m still be asking stupid questions to illiterate school board members. And I figure I might as well have something to hold over her.

edison link, a little break

Obligatory self-link: I helped out on today’s front-page story on the Edison Schools in Dallas.
I have to crank out three stories in the next shift, so again, blogging will be sporadic. And I leave early Friday for Las Vegas and my old college roommate‘s bachelor party. So consider this a fine opportunity to visit other happy blogs for a few days. “Wacky” crabwalk.com content will return soon enough.

random links

Sorry I’ve been such a half-assed blogger of late. Been busy. The trip to Boston last weekend was wonderful, thanks for asking.
A few random links to tide you over until I come up with something interesting to say:
TrademarkBots. Anyone else had these guys crawling your pages?
Glorious Noise. “Glorious Noise is all about how rock and roll can change your life.”
Eccentric New Orleans. I’ve been on a New Orleans kick of late (also recommended).
Acadian Railway Company. Someone please give me lots of money.
Girls Are Pretty. There’s plenty of room for formal innovation in blogs.
Gigposters.com.

layoffs at kera

For Dallasites: KERA cuts 25 percent of staff. Most prominent among the laid off is Krys Villasenor, host of the (often vapid) evening talk show, Conversations. (Kremlinologists will notice her photo already been removed from its spot on the radio station’s web page alongside Glenn Mitchell’s, mere hours after the putsch.) I was not a Krys fan, but come on, she’s been out on maternity leave for the last month. That’s rude.
Now on KERA at 7 p.m.: a repeat of Fresh Air (an improvement), followed by The Tavis Smiley Show at 8.

reunion thoughts

Last weekend was my five-year college reunion. It was much more fun than I’d imagined. A few quick thoughts:
– This is really the last chance I’ll have to see most of these folks while our incomes are even remotely at the same level. As they become wealthy doctors/lawyers/bankers/etc., and as I remain a newspaper reporter, the gap will grow. But at the moment, they’re all weighted down by debt! I’ll enjoy the relative parity while it lasts.
– I was talking with my old roommate Bob — the one whose bachelor party I’m going to in Las Vegas next weekend — when the movie The Tao of Steve came up. We both said we enjoyed it and its lead character, Dex. Then Bob threw in the kicker: “Yeah, [his fiancee] Stacey and I were watching the movie and we both thought the same thing: Dex reminded us of you.”
Ouch. (I think.) Bob did clarify that a bit, pointing out the two biggest differences — Dex has a huge gut and no ambition, whereas I have a more manageable gut and too much ambition. But still: ouch.
– Shame’s a funny thing. I can’t tell you how many times I had this conversation with classmates who are, by any societal measure, launching tremendously successful careers:
Classmate: Hey, Josh! Great to see you! What have you been up to?
Me: Well, I’m still a newspaper reporter, at the Dallas Morning News.
Classmate: That’s great!
Me: How about you?
Classmate: (suddenly staring at feet, voice down a few decibels, shifting weight from side to side) Um, I’m a…lawyer.
(Or insert “investment banker,” “consultant,” “going to business school,” etc. Only the doctors seemed to remain unashamed.)

dmn on nightline

If you tuned into Nightline last night, you saw my desk. (The whole show was about the Catholic sex-abuse story in today’s paper. If you only pick up the paper once a year, today’s not a bad day to do it.) A Nightline crew was here shooting background shots in the newsroom Monday and Tuesday, and apparently a shot of my desk made it on TV somehow. (Not me, just my desk. I’ll have to stick to TXCN.)

crabwalk’s back from the dead, teacher certification story

Yep, I’m back after a week of enforced silence, caused by server shenanigans at my web host. Basically, they deleted a week’s worth of posts and comments and wrecked my installation of Movable Type, making posting impossible without screwing things up even more. (If you’re interested in wonky details, try here, here, here, and here [my solution to the mess]).
Anyway, I’m back, after recoding by hand 10 entries and 30+ comments. Depending on the speediness of your ISP, crabwalk.com should point back at this site within the next day or two. Regular posting to resume after I get some sleep.
Until then, here’s my largely uninteresting story on tomorrow’s front page. And here’s a much better story on tomorrow’s front.

heather havrilesky’s blog, suck memories, dahlia lithwick, off to reunion

Hey, you! You, in the corner with the keyboard! Why didn’t you tell me Heather Havrilesky has a blog? (You may know her better as Polly Esther at the late and truly lamented Suck.)
As time passes, people may forget what a stroke of genius Suck was. (Well, not all of Suck. But it had a higher batting average than most mags, and if you stripped away the hipster social crit, there was a real, beating heart of intelligence behind it all.)
And this is probably deeply retrograde, but her writing always gave me the impression that she’s the sexiest creature on earth. (Well, her and Dahlia Lithwick.) There’s just something about overeducated, lovably cynical female webzine writers that just gets my motor running. Rowr.
I leave for my college reunion tomorrow morning, so the posting stream may slow to a trickle through the weekend. You’re always my top priority, Dear Reader, but this weekend you fall to third behind Wooster Square cannolis and everyone’s favorite party game, Let’s See Who Got Fat.

undercover journalists at klan meeting

Klan rally 70 percent undercover reporters. “Over the course of the two-hour rally, no journalists were ferreted out by the Klansmen. To the trained eye, however, some differences could be detected. Several times, reporters were seen disrupting the marching formation as they stooped to scribble notes, take photos with digital cameras, or answer cell phones. In addition, a number of lavaliere microphones could be seen poking out of robes.
“The undercover journalists were also distinguishable by their footwear. While the real KKK members tended to wear heavy work boots, the journalists were divided between sensible leather oxfords and beat-up sneakers.”