Dude, where’s my TV show?
How ratings miscount television viewers, no matter how they’re watching
In the 2006-2007 television season, the much-hyped program “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip” premiered on NBC at #22. This means that for that week (Sept. 18), it was the 22nd most-watched regularly-scheduled television broadcast. Almost 13 million people watched it; roughly the same as the population of Illinois. For 2006, it was the No. 1 program recorded on digital recording systems (like TiVo) for “timeshifted” viewing. Three months later, however, in December, NBC announced the show would share its timeslot with another show, and in February 2007, announced that the last episode would air mid-month. Why the sudden change? How did a fairly popular show go from 13 million viewers to cancellation? One way: ratings.
From 1928 (when the first experimental television images were broadcast) until 1951 (when Nielsen started publishing ratings), television operated without much real, concrete knowledge of who was watching. In 1951, Nielsen announced that the Texaco Star Theater, a variety show featuring star Milton Berle, was the most-watched program on television. Why was this data important? Well, aside from the curiosity of broadcasters, it satisfied a need for advertisers. Broadcasters could more effectively price their advertising space. If more people were watching Texaco Star Theater than anything else, then advertising on that show should cost more. Ever wonder why commercials on the Super Bowl are so expensive? Super Bowl broadcasts are some of the most-watched telecasts. In fact, out of the top20 prime-time telecasts of all time, half are Super Bowls. In 1982, more than 40 million households watched Super Bowl XVI, and a 30-second commercial cost $324,000. The prices are set by analyzing previous ratings, projecting how many people will be watching when the commercial airs and then charging accordingly. It really is a popularity contest. But how to they determine which shows are being watched?
In the beginning, it was simple. Nielsen sent you a diary and you wrote down what you watched. Nielsen would send diaries to enough people to produce a statistically accurate sample to estimate the nationwide counts. But there were numerous problems with this system. People didn’t send the diaries back on time, or didn’t fill them out at all, or even lied when they filled them out. Why did they lie? Sometimes to make themselves seem smarter (it’s been published that people say they watch a lot more PBS than they really do), or to try to protect certain shows from being cancelled. In 2004, Nielsen came under fire for testing “Peoplemeters,” special remote controls each household member used to track demographic use, and a special box that sent all the information to Nielsen. You couldn’t lie and you couldn’t cheat, but somehow, the Peoplemeters were giving drastically different information than the diaries were, and most of the changes involved television shows with minority casts. So, the Nielsen rating system is flawed. Not only may it produce wrong numbers, be susceptible to fibbing viewers, and only samples home viewing (plenty of televisions are watched in airports, bars and restaurants). But what about all the rest of the ways we watch television programs? Can they affect a show’s fate? Why, yes, they can … at least sometimes.
The animated comedy show “Family Guy” proved that networks are paying attention to the DVDs we buy. “Family Guy” was cancelled twice, in 2000 and 2002, but DVD sales figures and high syndication ratings convinced the FOX network to bring it back in 2005. According to USA Today, this was the first time a show was reinstated after cancellation due to DVD popularity. So, at least the networks are paying attention to what we buy, but how about what we rent? Or what we download? The simple answer is that they aren’t. As evidenced by the fact that “Studio 60” was the No. 1 “timeshifted” (that means TiVo-ed) program of 2006, but was still cancelled. The answer is simple: you can fast forward through ads on TiVo. Why pay for advertising on a show most people don’t watch ads on?
Some networks are capitalizing on the “timeshifting” idea and profiting by showing streaming video of shows on their Web sites and charging for advertising there. On NBC.com, for example, you can watch the season finale of “Studio 60” brought to you by the T-Mobile Sidekick. The episode is split into five short video segments, each preceded by a T-Mobile ad. And the network is counting who’s watching. According to a recent article in TV Week, advertising revenue for streaming video should hit $1.31 billion this year. NBC announced that it had delivered more than 300 million streams this season alone. But it isn’t enough to save some shows. Shows with steep production costs (like “Studio 60,” or another NBC hit “ER”) have to make up the costs, and sometimes they just can’t. Spending $40 on DVDs is one thing, but paying $1.99 to download a single missed episode from iTunes just doesn’t add up the same way. And there’s no profits at all for illegally-downloaded episodes. Even though you can build a strong and dedicated fan base that way, there’s lost revenue.
The long answer though, is that processes are in development to measure portable media devices like iPods and cell phones. They call this “placeshifting,” and plan to study ways to accurately track them. The problem here is there’s no accidental viewing. For instance, when you’re watching a television show on television, there’s a chance you can accidentally happen upon another show (the show coming on after or before the show you’re watching, or on a nearby channel while you’re flipping during commercials). You might find your new favorite show this way, or at least something else to watch. But with downloading, you only pick the shows you want, so there’s less of a chance you’ll ever try anything new. Which only adds to the possibility of new shows being cancelled from low ratings, because people won’t download them on a whim.
Of course, there are still the old-fashioned ways of trying to protect your favorite show from cancellation: letter-writing campaigns and petitions, but they aren’t working anymore. Being a Nielsen test subject and watching the show is the only way to make a difference, Just like always, you’ve got to put your money where your mouth is.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
the web giveth
So, today, on BoingBoing (which I read through the Google Reader rss application), Clay Shirkey, a blogger at Corante (which also hosts one of my favorite blogs, Copyfight), called this guy Andrew Keen, whom I had never heard of, a Luddite. Well, kind of. He accused him of having Luddite views.
So now I'm researching Mr. Keen. He wrote a book, which came out last month, called "The Cult of the Amateur." From the reviews I've read, notably, this one in The Sunday Times, Keen basically says that the Internet is adept at flooding the intellectual market with low-quality information and entertainment. He likens it to the idea of monkeys on typewriters, but there's no chance of even the infinite number of monkeys out there creating anything brilliant. He argues that the old media did a good job of picking out what was good or important and making it popular.
Shirkey says Keen's argument is Luddite because Keen isn't anti-technology, he's anti-technology-replacing-the-way-we-used-to-do-things. This is Luddite because, well, it's what the Luddites thought. Shirkey explains that in 1811, a group of weavers broke mechanical looms. Their issue was that these new mechanical weaving looms made it cheaper to make fabric, which hurt their profits. They were counter-revolutionaries. Of course, we all know what happened to the weaving industry, as I'm sure nothing I'm wearing right now was woven by hand.
So far, the most interesting idea for me is this bit from the Sunday Times' review:
So now I'm researching Mr. Keen. He wrote a book, which came out last month, called "The Cult of the Amateur." From the reviews I've read, notably, this one in The Sunday Times, Keen basically says that the Internet is adept at flooding the intellectual market with low-quality information and entertainment. He likens it to the idea of monkeys on typewriters, but there's no chance of even the infinite number of monkeys out there creating anything brilliant. He argues that the old media did a good job of picking out what was good or important and making it popular.
Shirkey says Keen's argument is Luddite because Keen isn't anti-technology, he's anti-technology-replacing-the-way-we-used-to-do-things. This is Luddite because, well, it's what the Luddites thought. Shirkey explains that in 1811, a group of weavers broke mechanical looms. Their issue was that these new mechanical weaving looms made it cheaper to make fabric, which hurt their profits. They were counter-revolutionaries. Of course, we all know what happened to the weaving industry, as I'm sure nothing I'm wearing right now was woven by hand.
So far, the most interesting idea for me is this bit from the Sunday Times' review:
Even if they had the talent and the connections, no blogs could afford to conduct investigations comparable to the great newspaper campaigns of the past. So the idea that content on the web is “free” is mistaken: the hidden cost may be the demise of old media and entire art forms on which the free content depends.Not to toot my own horn, but earlier in this blog, I mentioned that possibly, we were paying the price of humanity by using the Internet for simple tasks. Are we willing to pay these prices? I need to read Keen's book and get back to you. Hopefully, I can get it from the local public library today.
Monday, July 9, 2007
the iPhone vs. the iPhone buzz
I didn't buy an iPhone last week. However, I read so many articles about them, I felt like I did. The front page of the Saturday (June 30) issue of the Myrtle Beach Sun News business section even had an article picturing people in Charleston, S.C. (a 2.5-hour drive away), waiting in line for the iPhone. They looked vaguely similar to the people I'd seen in newspaper photos waiting for the iPhone in New York, L.A., and everywhere else hip enough to have their very own Apple store.
I recognize the power Apple holds over us, but after reading a bunch of articles and books about poverty in America, it's kind of hard for me to plunk down $599 for a telephone. And I actually wouldn't be plunking it. I'd be charging it to my medium-high-interest credit card, where it and months of other purchases wait to actually be paid for.
But I have read some very interesting things about the iPhone, and some very interesting things about the iPhone buzz. David Pogue, at the NY Times says it "matches most of its hype." Pogue also said, in another article, "With its new iPhone, Apple pulled off two masterful feats: creating the machine and creating the buzz around it." This reminds me so much of so many technical advancements in new media and other technologies in the past few years. So many things are announced with so much fanfare, but when the product or the technology is available, it just doesn't live up to the hype. Ten years ago, the Internet would change our lives. The only thing it's exceptionally good at though, is selling me things.
But the creation of hype, of buzz, of hope, is really what a lot of industry is actually about. Getting people excited about things is big business, and being able to get people excited about new media is hot big business. Maybe that's the popularity of Apple. They can really back up their claims. Sure, the iPhone took about 3 years from rumor to product, but they really nailed it when they did ship it.
Buzz though, is an interesting creature. "Viral" marketing has tried to sell buzz, but nothing can really replace word of mouth. Nothing can replace magazine and newspaper articles discussing your product. Nothing can replace news segments on television. Advertising that can't be paid for, the "buzz," is the most valuable. But the buzz is fickle. Burn the buzz once and the buzz won't take kindly to you next time. You don't even get the shame-on-me second chance to burn it again. And the buzz-savvy consumer is very intelligent. He or she can always tell the difference between real buzz and paid-for hype.
How have buzz (the un-buyable word-of-mouth marketing) and hype (the paid-for marketing) changed since the shift to the Web? Well, you can say they've just both found more audience members. You can barely vist a Web site without seeing an ad for something. I can't even check my gmail without seeing an ad for a shoe store. I can't check the weather online without seeing an ad for refinancing my mortgage. I can't check my email without getting offers for drugs. But the buzz has been infiltrated. People are paid, well-paid, to sit around and type up ads on messageboards and forums. Posing as regular users, these sentries infiltrate and try to scam you into buying things. The savvy consumers see right through it, and the buzz is protected. It has an even bigger audience too. No matter what product you want to discuss, there's probably a place on the Web to do it. Your real life friends aren't into talking about the iPhone? That's okay, just find a million new friends on the Web that want to nit-pick every nuance. The buzz has grown, because people can talk to more people.
What will be the long-term effects of new media on buzz? We'll have to wait and see. Short term though, I haven't bought an iPhone, but I'm eager to try one out in person. If that's all the hold the buzz has over me, maybe it needs to work harder.
I recognize the power Apple holds over us, but after reading a bunch of articles and books about poverty in America, it's kind of hard for me to plunk down $599 for a telephone. And I actually wouldn't be plunking it. I'd be charging it to my medium-high-interest credit card, where it and months of other purchases wait to actually be paid for.
But I have read some very interesting things about the iPhone, and some very interesting things about the iPhone buzz. David Pogue, at the NY Times says it "matches most of its hype." Pogue also said, in another article, "With its new iPhone, Apple pulled off two masterful feats: creating the machine and creating the buzz around it." This reminds me so much of so many technical advancements in new media and other technologies in the past few years. So many things are announced with so much fanfare, but when the product or the technology is available, it just doesn't live up to the hype. Ten years ago, the Internet would change our lives. The only thing it's exceptionally good at though, is selling me things.
But the creation of hype, of buzz, of hope, is really what a lot of industry is actually about. Getting people excited about things is big business, and being able to get people excited about new media is hot big business. Maybe that's the popularity of Apple. They can really back up their claims. Sure, the iPhone took about 3 years from rumor to product, but they really nailed it when they did ship it.
Buzz though, is an interesting creature. "Viral" marketing has tried to sell buzz, but nothing can really replace word of mouth. Nothing can replace magazine and newspaper articles discussing your product. Nothing can replace news segments on television. Advertising that can't be paid for, the "buzz," is the most valuable. But the buzz is fickle. Burn the buzz once and the buzz won't take kindly to you next time. You don't even get the shame-on-me second chance to burn it again. And the buzz-savvy consumer is very intelligent. He or she can always tell the difference between real buzz and paid-for hype.
How have buzz (the un-buyable word-of-mouth marketing) and hype (the paid-for marketing) changed since the shift to the Web? Well, you can say they've just both found more audience members. You can barely vist a Web site without seeing an ad for something. I can't even check my gmail without seeing an ad for a shoe store. I can't check the weather online without seeing an ad for refinancing my mortgage. I can't check my email without getting offers for drugs. But the buzz has been infiltrated. People are paid, well-paid, to sit around and type up ads on messageboards and forums. Posing as regular users, these sentries infiltrate and try to scam you into buying things. The savvy consumers see right through it, and the buzz is protected. It has an even bigger audience too. No matter what product you want to discuss, there's probably a place on the Web to do it. Your real life friends aren't into talking about the iPhone? That's okay, just find a million new friends on the Web that want to nit-pick every nuance. The buzz has grown, because people can talk to more people.
What will be the long-term effects of new media on buzz? We'll have to wait and see. Short term though, I haven't bought an iPhone, but I'm eager to try one out in person. If that's all the hold the buzz has over me, maybe it needs to work harder.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Commentary Essay: DRAFT
Two years ago, a student I work with told me something terrifying. A recruiter at a job fair had told her she’d never get a job without a MySpace page. She wanted to know how I got a job without a MySpace page. I told her the truth: connections. I knew the person that hired me. I’d worked with him before.
“So, you networked,” she said.
“Um… yeah, I guess.”
She explained that this is what MySpace was for: networking. I guess I didn’t get it. And I still don’t. I don’t get the networking value of social networking sites. Social networking sites have given me something valuable: a replacement for my outdated address book, where the entries update themselves and I can always find who I’m looking for. They haven’t replaced much else though, so why are they such a big deal?
Danah Boyd, an ethnographic researcher, just published her essay on class issues in social networking Web sites. First, though, she gives the history. In 2003-2004, MySpace went from being a 20-30-something site to a teen site that helped bands promote themselves. In 2004, Facebook started at Harvard University. Before them, Friendster and other social networking sites could show you who you knew, and who they know (that’s what networking is, right?). MySpace and Facebook took off because they had plenty of space for the users to talk about themselves. The theory is that you can list your favorite hobbies, or movies, or books on your profile and make friends with people with the same interests. It doesn’t work that way in practice though. Most people just write about themselves. These sites are called “Social Networking Sites,” but very little social networking really goes around. I can list my friends and you can list yours, and if we have friends in common, it will tell us. But how is that really changing anything? Are we meeting new people? Are we finding people with similar interests? Aren’t these things we could do before the Internet? And was it better then or is it better now? It’s pretty much the same, only now, we’re not always sure who we’re meeting.
I don’t know if this is true for everyone, but I’m not exactly the same person on the Internet that I am in real life. It’s not like I’m really a middle-aged man from Indiana in real life, but I’m less polished in person than I am on the Web. The Internet affords one luxury of communication you don’t have in person: time. I have time to cleverly concoct and assemble my lists of likes and dislikes for my social networking profile. It’s like writing your resume. You get to work on it for months, and your interview might last 10 minutes. Even though I’m not any smarter, I sound smarter on the Internet. But if people were trying to network with me based on my interests, they might be out of luck. Sure, my Facebook profile may list my favorite movie, but you know what? I lied. My favorite movie is “Caddyshack”; the profile says it’s “The Royal Tenenbaums.” “Tenenbaums” is one of my favorite movies, so it’s not an entire untruth, but it changes my entire online persona. Stoned frat boys like “Caddyshack,” but cool people like “Tenenbaums.” Did I do this consciously? Kind of. I thought of the movie that would give me something in common with the people I know. But was it the Internet that influenced the decision to fib? Kind of. If I was at a dinner party with my hip, educated friends, I probably wouldn’t admit to be the type of philistine that enjoyed the story of golfers and an overzealous gopher. At a sports bar with my college-football-watching friends, I wouldn’t admit to being the hip poseur that likes “The Royal Tenenbaums.” Everybody fibs. It’s like that saying; On the Internet, nobody knows you’re a dog. On the Internet, nobody knows you’re not cool.
And that’s the draw. That’s the attraction. You can talk endlessly about yourself, and make yourself so cool. And that’s also exactly why these sites aren’t promoting networking. People are all too busy making themselves look cool, and showing their intelligent and fascinating interests and hobbies, great photos of themselves where they look thin and pretty, and listing how many friends they have. The features that made MySpace and Facebook popular (photo sharing, detailed personal profile pages, etc.) are the exact things that are preventing people from meeting anybody new. The social networking site is the new Narcissus’ pond. Let’s try not to drown ourselves.
“So, you networked,” she said.
“Um… yeah, I guess.”
She explained that this is what MySpace was for: networking. I guess I didn’t get it. And I still don’t. I don’t get the networking value of social networking sites. Social networking sites have given me something valuable: a replacement for my outdated address book, where the entries update themselves and I can always find who I’m looking for. They haven’t replaced much else though, so why are they such a big deal?
Danah Boyd, an ethnographic researcher, just published her essay on class issues in social networking Web sites. First, though, she gives the history. In 2003-2004, MySpace went from being a 20-30-something site to a teen site that helped bands promote themselves. In 2004, Facebook started at Harvard University. Before them, Friendster and other social networking sites could show you who you knew, and who they know (that’s what networking is, right?). MySpace and Facebook took off because they had plenty of space for the users to talk about themselves. The theory is that you can list your favorite hobbies, or movies, or books on your profile and make friends with people with the same interests. It doesn’t work that way in practice though. Most people just write about themselves. These sites are called “Social Networking Sites,” but very little social networking really goes around. I can list my friends and you can list yours, and if we have friends in common, it will tell us. But how is that really changing anything? Are we meeting new people? Are we finding people with similar interests? Aren’t these things we could do before the Internet? And was it better then or is it better now? It’s pretty much the same, only now, we’re not always sure who we’re meeting.
I don’t know if this is true for everyone, but I’m not exactly the same person on the Internet that I am in real life. It’s not like I’m really a middle-aged man from Indiana in real life, but I’m less polished in person than I am on the Web. The Internet affords one luxury of communication you don’t have in person: time. I have time to cleverly concoct and assemble my lists of likes and dislikes for my social networking profile. It’s like writing your resume. You get to work on it for months, and your interview might last 10 minutes. Even though I’m not any smarter, I sound smarter on the Internet. But if people were trying to network with me based on my interests, they might be out of luck. Sure, my Facebook profile may list my favorite movie, but you know what? I lied. My favorite movie is “Caddyshack”; the profile says it’s “The Royal Tenenbaums.” “Tenenbaums” is one of my favorite movies, so it’s not an entire untruth, but it changes my entire online persona. Stoned frat boys like “Caddyshack,” but cool people like “Tenenbaums.” Did I do this consciously? Kind of. I thought of the movie that would give me something in common with the people I know. But was it the Internet that influenced the decision to fib? Kind of. If I was at a dinner party with my hip, educated friends, I probably wouldn’t admit to be the type of philistine that enjoyed the story of golfers and an overzealous gopher. At a sports bar with my college-football-watching friends, I wouldn’t admit to being the hip poseur that likes “The Royal Tenenbaums.” Everybody fibs. It’s like that saying; On the Internet, nobody knows you’re a dog. On the Internet, nobody knows you’re not cool.
And that’s the draw. That’s the attraction. You can talk endlessly about yourself, and make yourself so cool. And that’s also exactly why these sites aren’t promoting networking. People are all too busy making themselves look cool, and showing their intelligent and fascinating interests and hobbies, great photos of themselves where they look thin and pretty, and listing how many friends they have. The features that made MySpace and Facebook popular (photo sharing, detailed personal profile pages, etc.) are the exact things that are preventing people from meeting anybody new. The social networking site is the new Narcissus’ pond. Let’s try not to drown ourselves.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
media journal
For a course I took last year, my book was Media Journal by Joseph Harris, Jay Rosen and Gary Calpas. I try to keep my books after courses are over, in case I need them again. Some I never kept because I knew I'd never keep them. I kept this one though, and I'm glad I did. Over the (very) long weekend, I found a few essays that went along well with the th, butemes in this course, and I'm going to post about each of them.
First, M. Kadi's essay "The Internet is Four Inches Tall," (reprinted from h2so4 issue 3), explores the concept of the Internet being somewhat like the Emperor wearing no clothes. It's this big, shiny new toy with plenty of possibilities, but the biggest one, at least now, is commercial possibility. First it's about the commercial situation of charging for the access. Then it explores what you're paying for. Back when this was written, in 1994, most of it was bulletin boards and chat rooms. Her final decision is that the Internet, while it has bells and whistles and speed, is still just another way of transporting information, which so far, isn't anything new.
I like this in relation to the Mythinformaiton essay. We aren't really connecting. We just have another tool to communicate, but it's not like we have new things to do. This really will play into my upcoming commentary essay on the pros and cons of social networking Web sites. Basically, through my research and experience, I'm compelled to say yes, we are somewhat cheating ourselves out of "human" experiences. And maybe someday, the amount of Facebook friends you have will change the way you live. I have 151 Facebook friends. I'm not on MySpace. But I'm not really friends with most of these people. For instance, only 2 or 3 could I call and ask to go to the movies with me. Or to help me move or anything else vaguely friend-like. I'm "networked" to them. I mean, it's a pretty good way to comprehensively list my acquaintances (or those that are on Facebook), but there's not much qualitative information there. Someone I've known and been close with almost 8 years is on the same level with someone I met once 3 years ago.
Ok, next essay. This one, by Andrew L. Shapiro, titled "Street Corners in Cyberspace" expands on the notion that the Internet provides a uniqueness that the user wants. "Don't like antiabortion activists, homeless people,news reports about murders? No problem–you need never encounter them," he writes. This is spot on. The Web is so customizable, and it's so easy to only get what you want. For instance, I personally subscribe to several RSS feeds. I have The New York Times arts section and BoingBoing. I also have The Onion, and the NYT front page. But it would be just as easy to ditch one and keep the other.
He uses two phrases I like: Cyberbia and Cyberkeley. These are the terms to juxtapose the Internet that's full of home shopping and advertisements vs. the Internet that's full of really intelligent information. But people in the middle, the street corners, are where there's a possibility for real growth and interesting developments on the Web.
There's a lot of interesting things out there, but I'm finding a lot of the same theories echoing over and over. I'm wondering if I'll ever find something different. Maybe it's trendy now, like it was a few years ago, to brag about hating television, or it being worthless. Maybe just right now, the trend is to discount the Internet as worthless. There are certain television shows right now, though, that prove there are dynamic, innovative and amazing minds out there creating them. Maybe it'll just take time for the Internet to come that way.
First, M. Kadi's essay "The Internet is Four Inches Tall," (reprinted from h2so4 issue 3), explores the concept of the Internet being somewhat like the Emperor wearing no clothes. It's this big, shiny new toy with plenty of possibilities, but the biggest one, at least now, is commercial possibility. First it's about the commercial situation of charging for the access. Then it explores what you're paying for. Back when this was written, in 1994, most of it was bulletin boards and chat rooms. Her final decision is that the Internet, while it has bells and whistles and speed, is still just another way of transporting information, which so far, isn't anything new.
I like this in relation to the Mythinformaiton essay. We aren't really connecting. We just have another tool to communicate, but it's not like we have new things to do. This really will play into my upcoming commentary essay on the pros and cons of social networking Web sites. Basically, through my research and experience, I'm compelled to say yes, we are somewhat cheating ourselves out of "human" experiences. And maybe someday, the amount of Facebook friends you have will change the way you live. I have 151 Facebook friends. I'm not on MySpace. But I'm not really friends with most of these people. For instance, only 2 or 3 could I call and ask to go to the movies with me. Or to help me move or anything else vaguely friend-like. I'm "networked" to them. I mean, it's a pretty good way to comprehensively list my acquaintances (or those that are on Facebook), but there's not much qualitative information there. Someone I've known and been close with almost 8 years is on the same level with someone I met once 3 years ago.
Ok, next essay. This one, by Andrew L. Shapiro, titled "Street Corners in Cyberspace" expands on the notion that the Internet provides a uniqueness that the user wants. "Don't like antiabortion activists, homeless people,news reports about murders? No problem–you need never encounter them," he writes. This is spot on. The Web is so customizable, and it's so easy to only get what you want. For instance, I personally subscribe to several RSS feeds. I have The New York Times arts section and BoingBoing. I also have The Onion, and the NYT front page. But it would be just as easy to ditch one and keep the other.
He uses two phrases I like: Cyberbia and Cyberkeley. These are the terms to juxtapose the Internet that's full of home shopping and advertisements vs. the Internet that's full of really intelligent information. But people in the middle, the street corners, are where there's a possibility for real growth and interesting developments on the Web.
There's a lot of interesting things out there, but I'm finding a lot of the same theories echoing over and over. I'm wondering if I'll ever find something different. Maybe it's trendy now, like it was a few years ago, to brag about hating television, or it being worthless. Maybe just right now, the trend is to discount the Internet as worthless. There are certain television shows right now, though, that prove there are dynamic, innovative and amazing minds out there creating them. Maybe it'll just take time for the Internet to come that way.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
sorry
Sorry for the lack of posts. I was out of town with my family for a bit. They're still dealing with stuff about my granddad's estate. It's kind of a nightmare. But, as I am trying to keep out of personal stuff in this school blog, I will refrain from giving you the boring, inane details.
Regular posts will return tomorrow!
Regular posts will return tomorrow!
Thursday, June 28, 2007
part of the problem
Today’s reading:
The Tales They Tell in Cyber-Space by John Katz
First, let me say I hate the prefix “cyber” and I hate how it got attached to everything in the 90s (cyberspace, cybernews, cybersex) like a lower-case “i” got attached to everything in the 2000s (iWork, iLife, iPod). Since, though, this was written in 1994, for The New York Times, I’ll allow it. In 1994, prefixing stuff with “cyber” was undeniably hip. Isn’t it strange how even the trendy nomenclature changes? Cyber and virtual became Web 2.0, the current trendy way to say “interactive Internet features.” I digress.
Katz’s essay is about how creativity and communication have been affected by the Web. Instead of the power-communicators (TV networks, movie companies, etc.) choosing what gets communicated, the masses can discuss things directly with the masses. And though what they’re discussing lacks the polish of an editor’s hand or a newscaster’s inflection, it has something going for it: honesty. Katz excerpts posts from bulletin boards about emergency roadside births, homophobia and AIDS. These are sad stories, and funny stories, none of which are of the magnitude required to be a Movie of the Week or a novel, but they’re still true stories of real life, without the gatekeepers.
In journalism school, back in 1999-2002, we barely used e-mail or the Internet. It’s strange, really, to think about. I’m sure other departments on campus were using e-mail (computer science, definitely, and other sciences I bet, probably the business school too). I don’t know if journalists as a whole didn’t realize the possibility that we’d be obsolete someday. So much effort is put in now for “convergence” newsgathering. It’s not enough to get an interview and write a story, you have to have photos, video, interactive graphics on the Web and a thousand other bells and whistles to make your story reach as many people as possible.
That’s harder too. Since people get their news from the Web, it’s easier to pick and choose. You can read the New York Times art pages without reading the front page. You can watch a clip on CNN.com and not have to watch the actual cable channel. You can watch clips on NBC.com and never see an entire Nightly News with Brian Williams newscast. Now, this doesn't seem so bad when you think about excising stories about celebrities or pop culture from your news diet, but what if you’re excising something “important?” What if you stopped reading any news about the war? Or any news about global warming? And is that really any worse than cutting out stories about Paris Hilton?
A well-balanced news-diet is a thing of the past. Gone are the days where people read a morning paper, an evening paper and watch the local and national news every night. The only people I know that do this anymore are over 65-years-old or journalism students. I don’t even do that anymore. I might watch an hour of CNN, read the New York Times RSS feed for the front-page headlines and read a magazine every day though. But these are choices I make, not necessarily to shield myself from certain stories, but to read what I like to read.
This is bad. I’m part of the people making myself obsolete. How terrifying.
The Tales They Tell in Cyber-Space by John Katz
First, let me say I hate the prefix “cyber” and I hate how it got attached to everything in the 90s (cyberspace, cybernews, cybersex) like a lower-case “i” got attached to everything in the 2000s (iWork, iLife, iPod). Since, though, this was written in 1994, for The New York Times, I’ll allow it. In 1994, prefixing stuff with “cyber” was undeniably hip. Isn’t it strange how even the trendy nomenclature changes? Cyber and virtual became Web 2.0, the current trendy way to say “interactive Internet features.” I digress.
Katz’s essay is about how creativity and communication have been affected by the Web. Instead of the power-communicators (TV networks, movie companies, etc.) choosing what gets communicated, the masses can discuss things directly with the masses. And though what they’re discussing lacks the polish of an editor’s hand or a newscaster’s inflection, it has something going for it: honesty. Katz excerpts posts from bulletin boards about emergency roadside births, homophobia and AIDS. These are sad stories, and funny stories, none of which are of the magnitude required to be a Movie of the Week or a novel, but they’re still true stories of real life, without the gatekeepers.
In journalism school, back in 1999-2002, we barely used e-mail or the Internet. It’s strange, really, to think about. I’m sure other departments on campus were using e-mail (computer science, definitely, and other sciences I bet, probably the business school too). I don’t know if journalists as a whole didn’t realize the possibility that we’d be obsolete someday. So much effort is put in now for “convergence” newsgathering. It’s not enough to get an interview and write a story, you have to have photos, video, interactive graphics on the Web and a thousand other bells and whistles to make your story reach as many people as possible.
That’s harder too. Since people get their news from the Web, it’s easier to pick and choose. You can read the New York Times art pages without reading the front page. You can watch a clip on CNN.com and not have to watch the actual cable channel. You can watch clips on NBC.com and never see an entire Nightly News with Brian Williams newscast. Now, this doesn't seem so bad when you think about excising stories about celebrities or pop culture from your news diet, but what if you’re excising something “important?” What if you stopped reading any news about the war? Or any news about global warming? And is that really any worse than cutting out stories about Paris Hilton?
A well-balanced news-diet is a thing of the past. Gone are the days where people read a morning paper, an evening paper and watch the local and national news every night. The only people I know that do this anymore are over 65-years-old or journalism students. I don’t even do that anymore. I might watch an hour of CNN, read the New York Times RSS feed for the front-page headlines and read a magazine every day though. But these are choices I make, not necessarily to shield myself from certain stories, but to read what I like to read.
This is bad. I’m part of the people making myself obsolete. How terrifying.
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