Who says there's no money in journalism? Because buried halfway through another article about the problems with the launch of Virgin Galactic First Look Media is this mention of a fierce bidding war going on among the start ups:
...The loss of Mr. Taibbi, a journalist with an avid following, is a blow to First Look as it tries to distinguish itself in a fiercely competitive and crowded start-up digital media market. Among others, Fusion, Vox and Quartz have been hiring reporters and editors with web experience. Medium, started by two of the founders of Twitter, is something between a publisher and a platform. And BuzzFeed and Vice have recently expanded their reporting ambitions and raised millions from eager investors. Even older companies like Bloomberg Media are seeking to revamp themselves with infusions of fresh talent.
All of this is happening at such a vast social distance from me it feels like the slight shudder of some earthquake happening in a different time zone, or a wild sunset brought on by a volcano erupting far beyond the horizon.
Yes, the heaving of fault lines and spewing of lava is real, but almost everyone involved has worked so very hard to make it clear that the opinions of flyover grunts like me do not matter at all -- do not in any way factor into their decision-making -- that beyond making sure the echoes of their tectonic org-chart shimmies don't knock my copies of "Boss" and "The Loudest Voice In The Room" off the nightstand, or taking the kids out at dusk to see the trippy sky show, what the fuck is Hecuba to me or me to Hecuba?
Far away.
Far away.
Are not all lovely things far away?
2 comments:
Let Horace the Wobblie Red remind everyone that there is so much money flowing through the US economy that we could split it into even shares and every single household would receive 170,000 dollars US. That The Celebrated Man in the Street does not grok this fact is a matter of some importance, but the central point for now is that there is a huge pile of money with which some lucky few get to play. Why some plucky individuals get touched with the golden finger of unimaginable riches is a matter inscrutable, but we know that Poitras and Greenwald have put substantially more effort into pondering this enigma than they have diverted into their alleged work.
Once again we can join host Driftglass in his chorus:
THERE IS A CLUB
YOU ARE NOT IN IT
Ok, this is good. Very good. Olé torero.
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