Mr. Sulu is gay

Read this item in the Mercury News Saturday. Well, you wouldn't know it from this photo. Doesn't Starfleet have a "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy?

When journalists dance...

… the world is a somewhat bleaker place.

Brace yourself for these photos from the opening party of APME in San Jose this past Wednesday. You will want to drink your vodka straight from the dog’s dish tonight.

(Ed note: In a rare moment of reflection, photos were removed in case I need one of these highly-placed, amazingly graceful executives to hire me someday.)

Actually, I had a great time at the party. We returned to the scene of the crime, so to speak: the museum next to the Fairmont where we had our SNDSJ opening party. And, once again, I was a guest of the very gracious folks at the Mercury News. They're always talking about the DNA of the paper. They definitely have a strong hospitality gene.

No offense to this shindig, but the SNDSJ party was better. Last year we were under the tent out among the palm trees. This one was all inside the museum. You simply can't beat a tent. And while this bash had way more food (a gianormous pan of paella, reminiscent of the food stations at the bullring in Barcelona), it didn't have the same energy. There were a lot of long faces in the room, editors who had already been through the budget wringer and see it coming again.

I was talking with one editor who runs a medium size newsroom with a vibrant visual culture. He has lost 20% of his staff over the last five years and his recently departed visual leader will not be replaced. But he, like everyone else I spoke with, brightened up when we were either talking about:
A. the terrific enterprise stories they just published or were about to publish
B. the members of their staff who bring passion and personality to the newsroom and the craft.

Great journalism will do that.

But this was still a good time and no better time than at the end of the night at the live auction.

Matt Mansfield, who got me on the guest list (thanks, Matt!), thought it would be a good idea to check out the auction. A short silent auction, followed by a live auction complete with paddles you wave when you want to bid, this APME gig makes a chunk more money than our SND auction and we wondered if there wasn’t a lesson to be learned.

Here’s the simple secret to raising more money in Orlando: Get lots of editors on the upper end of the pay scale to come and aggressively liquor them up over the course of the evening. Hope one of them is tipsy enough to raise recklessly and heckle others, appealing to the competitive nature of this group. Before you know it, someone will have dropped a K for some Omaha Steaks and Maine Lobsters.

Me? I woke up with a lightly throbbing headache and tickets to baseball games in Milwaukee and D.C.

What the hell?

The Art of Being Kellye

Houston's own Kellye Sanford, whose portrait now hangs in the SND Hall of Fame, showed us the art of putting on a conference. What we didn't see was her real art. And it's quite impressive.

Wondering if the above isn't a bit of a self-portrait?

Come to think of it, that's exactly how I remember her looking in the Flying Saucer pub the Monday before the conference began. But we'd all had a little too much to drink.

Here's to Kellye!

Beer porn

Ran across a link on another website to this site, which is devoted to photographing beer through a microscope! What genius came up with this? This is a person that I really would like to meet. In fact, I'm considering switching to Windows just so I can use the "Beershots Screen Saver."

Just so you don't think this is totally a waste of mental energy and discretionary income, please take a moment to read about their methodology. It's a thorough discussion on techniques and scientific challenges that one faces when imaging beer microbiology. This is a project of the Florida State University and likely taxpayer subsidized. Some pork I can support.

The image above, by the way, is from a Red Stripe. Put it up because I just found out Indy pal Kenney Marlett is going to be in MoBay the same time I am in November and at the resort next door. As surely as we drained the Houston Hilton of Shiner Bock, we'll put a strain on the local supply of Red Stripe and jerk.

Conflict avoidance

For many newspaper designers I know this is an essential conference. Fortunately its spring date doesn't conflict with SND Orlando.

Harriet and Me

As the Senate debates the timetable for Harriet Miers' confirmation hearings, there's still a lot of talk among the media's newly anointed "chattering class" about her gushing notes to Mr. Bush.

They call them "cheerful, almost fawning" and have led several people to claim this appointment is not because of her qualifications but because of her obsequious worship of the President over the years.

I say that's simply not true. Despite the "pitbull in size 6 shoes" characterization, she's just a really nice lady -- the kind of person who will correct you when you call a warm, cozy manufactured home a "trailer."

And those notes? Those weren't special to George W. Bush. She did the same for everyone... and I mean everyone, including me.

A few months into my SND presidency, I enjoyed the unexpected e-mail, "You are the best president ever -- deserving of great respect."

And I cherish the 2003 handwritten note that mentioned my daughters: "Hopefully Hannah and Claire recognize that their father is 'cool' -- as the rest of us do. All I hear is how great you are doing. ... Keep up the good work. Los Angeles is blessed!"

I'm sure I disappointed her in May 1996 when I was unable to attend a ceremony honoring her. But the invite sure was sweet: "I am respectful of your great many time commitments and I realize you receive many, many requests... I would be very pleased if you are able to participate but either way I feel honored even to be able to extend this invitation to such an extraordinary person."

So, like Harry Reid, who helped make all this happen, I can't wait for the confirmation hearings. A little etiquette and old-fashioned manners will be great for the court.

BillTracker: Across the Mojave

After a blistering, fantastic, full-on lightning storm in Altadena last night (window open, the smell of a hard rain almost as if I were home in the Midwest), I woke up this morning and drove across the desert to Las Vegas.

It was the first time to do the LA-Vegas drive and the roads were blissfully empty.

With the help of John Berendt's new book about Venice (City of Falling Angels) being read to me by some actor I've never heard of, the ride went quicker than I could have hoped for (just under four hours) given the circumstances -- that being that large swaths of the Mojave were getting drenched by that same storm front, lightning dancing along the distant horizon.

While it's the first such trip, it won't be the last. In fact, as I was saying to my Star-Trib friend Lisa Clausen on a piece of the drive, my life is in jumbo chaos mode for a while. (Though perhaps not as chaotic as their household where my big, dumb, sweet lab, Steve, is still wreaking havoc.)

If splitting my time between L.A., Las Vegas and San Diego weren't hard enough, my L.A. landlord has sold the house and we basically have two months to get everything together and move on.

Now, if only I knew where I was moving on to, that would be a lot easier. The idea of moving twice in short order makes my stomach hurt.

Still interviewing, still considering the entire consulting option, still enjoying working with the Sun. But some sort of decision will have to be made sooner rather than later.

So, for the few of you who really need to know (or care) about such things, I've created a temporary "tracking" mechanism so you have an idea where I am at any given time. It's call BillTracker. You'll find the link over there to the right. Just under T-Ball.

There's still lightning out in the desert as I write this tonight. Perhaps the Journalism Gods know that Judith Miller is in town tonight, readying herself to talk at SPJ in the morning.

Houston -- no problem

Just getting back to the West Coast following the SND conference and a few days driving for around East and Central Jesus, Texas.

Was very busy during the conference and didn't get to nearly as many sessions as I had hoped to. But a couple of highlights for me:

• President's Night at the Continental Club. I probably should have hosted something a little more high class, but I can't pull that off. This was a beer joint with a loud, live band of Chronicle folks serving up some native Texas music. A lot of fun. Most people headed out to dinner when our part ended at 8 p.m. Those who stayed got to see Matt Erickson and Kevin Wendt do live karaoke with Molly and the Ringwalds and totally rock the house with Sweet Child of Mine.

• Stan Tiner's presentation at the luncheon about the Biloxi's paper heroic efforts to publish after Katrina was heartfelt (and, at times, heartbreaking) and inspiring.

• The view from the bar on the 24th floor of the Hilton, which was spectacular. Good thing since we were up there so much. My bar bill on the last night was $800 -- no food, just drinks. That was solid. Guess it's good for the Tribune company that I left before I could try and slip that through.

• The whole Saturday night shindig... the group hug with my former LATimes teammates Joe Hutchinson and Michael Whitley... Matt Mansfield and Denise Reagan were great anchors for the SND News Desk, the Stephanie Grace Lim dancers were huge fun and I was incredibly honored to be able to hand out SND Lifetime Achievement Awards to George Rorick and Nanette Bisher. Jonathan Berlin, Whitley, Bryan Volk, Pai and T-Shirt Carter made a lot of it happen as well; and, of course, Sir Grimwade and the Cajun Critiquer.

• There are lots of photos floating around out there. I'll try and link you to some soon (as soon as I can figure out which set contains the fewest of them with me looking like I'm completely "in my cups"). My thanks to the Houston Chronicle and all the Texas and Oklahoma journalists who pitched in (Chris Morris and Bill Bootz, a tip of the 10-gallon hat to you). But mostly to Susan Bischoff and Kellye Sanford who did more to make this happen than any two humans should have to...

• And the city of Houston, of course. A few years ago when the conference was announced for Houston a few folks got to witness a rather characteristically obsenity-laced rant over a pint or two (one even has a video burst, which is appropriately named). But that's because I hadn't been to Houston since 1977 -- a trip that fairly convinced me there was no reason to ever come back. I mean the highlight was the bar band at the Holiday Inn: Bev and the Bevettes. But I took a quick trip back to make peace with the city and found someplace totally different and way more interesting and vibrant that I'd imagined it could have become. And now, like several of the great cities of the world, at least two of my favorite top 25 bars/joints are right there -- La Carafe and the Alabama Ice House with Continental Club right on their boot heels.