corrente

I know, I know. I said I wouldn't read the Times any more. And aside from one slip, where I was tempted by a free copy left behind on the train, I've been good with that. And one of the best things about being in Europe was that there was no temptation to read the Times at all. (The Herald Trib has deteriorated, now that The Times runs it alone, without WaPo, but the rot hasn't reached the core, yet.) But when I got back, I thought I should catch up. That was a rationalization, I know. Look, I'm sorry, OK?

Anyhow, here's Dan "Bud Man" Okrent, the "reader's [cough] representative," on the Times's readers:

The point: beyond the continuing daily miracle of well-considered, well-executed articles, photographs and graphics on every subject under the sun (including, inevitably, a few subjects some of us might do without), The Times this year has done a number of things that affirm its bond with readers.

Well, I think that's splendid. I feel all warm and runny on the inside. And I feel happy for Dan; a little self-fluffing never hurt anyone. But read on:

Assistant managing editor Allan M. Siegal believes that communication with readers has improved: "I think desks and many individuals are less likely to disregard reader complaints, or to procrastinate in replying, because 'he sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake, he knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness' sake.' " You're welcome.
(via The Poor Old Times)

Well.

Dare I point out that Okrent's job wouldn't even exist unless countless readers tried to get The Times's attention the way you get a donkey's—that is, by hitting its head with a 2x4? And that it's the readers who know when The Times screws up, not Okrent? And that it's the readers who bring that to Okrent's attention, such as it is?

"You're welcome," indeed. Everything would be great for the reader's representative, if it weren't for those pesky readers, that is...

Oh, and thanks for the war, Judith. And Whitewater, Jeff. Great to see you still have jobs.