Missed this analysis by James Taranto in June. He notes that the Associated Press is encouraging something called “accountability journalism”:

Poynter.org reprints an article from Essentials, the Associated Press’s internal newsletter, which begins with an editor’s note explaining that the AP has embraced something called “accountability journalism,” whose goal is “to report whether government officials are doing the job for which they were elected and keeping the promises they make.”

Ron Fournier, whose byline frequently turns up on the AP’s “news analyses,” insists that such journalism is neither opinionated nor biased:

We can be provocative without being partisan. We can be truth-tellers without being editorial writers. We can and we must not only tell people what happened in politics today, but why it happened; what it might mean for our readers and their families; and what it might reveal about the people who presume to be our leaders. Sometimes, they’re just plain wrong.

Fournier is especially proud of the AP’s Katrina coverage–but the examples he cites seem opinionated and partisan to us. Here’s the lead paragraph of a Sept. 2, 2005, dispatch:

WASHINGTON (AP)–The Iraqi insurgency is in its last throes. The economy is booming. Anybody who leaks a CIA agent’s identity will be fired. Add another piece of White House rhetoric that doesn’t match the public’s view of reality: Help is on the way, Gulf Coast.

In just one paragraph, the “reporter” manages to endorse partisan views not just of Katrina but also of Iraq, the economy and even the Valerie Plame kerfuffle–and to describe what surely are his own opinions as “the public’s view.”

Good point. The problem with “accountability journalism” is the values to whom you hold people accountable. One man’s truth is another man’s propaganda. This AP movement looks like it’s swaying toward advocacy — which is OK, but let’s just call it was it is. We shouldn’t practice this type of reporting and hide behind the cloak of objectivity.

By the way, Jules Crittendon does a lot of great AP crap detecting. Here’s a particularly good post.

Check out the trailer to the “Final Cut” re-release of the 1982 film, “Blade Runner.” Looks awesome. “Blade Runner” was already a great movie, and I’m sure this new version will be even better. Despite the inclusion of a pre-whackjob Sean Young, Blade Runner boasts a stellar cast: Harrison Ford, Rutger Hauer, Darryl Hannah, and even Edward James Olmos, before he gained fame on “Miami Vice” and “Battlestar Gallactica.”

The end of the trailer says “the film that started it all” followed by snippits of later Ridley Scott films. It’s a great point. Scott went on to make many other notable films (“Blackhawk Down,” “Matchstick Men,” and “Gladiator.”) One snippit features a galloping unicorn — not a sight one sees every day. It’s taken from his maligned and forgotten 1985 film, “Legend,” one of Tom Cruise’s early misses. For whatever reason, I remember “Legend” fondly. Here’s the trailer.

I’ll have to watch “Legend” again to see if it aged well. The trailer didn’t.

Where do you find a list of newspapers bold enough to print the Mohammad cartoons? Wikipedia, of course.

I read The Onion too infrequently:

SAN FRANCISCO—Though she greets you every morning with a smile, sometimes chats with you, and makes sure the chocolate syrup is evenly distributed throughout your mocha, Starbucks barista Molly Sopel is in truth not flirting with you, and is instead simply a pleasant person and conscientious employee, coffeeshop sources reported Monday.

“The best part about Molly is that she laughs and talks with everyone,” said manager Mike Dezort, who confirmed that Sopel asks if you want room for milk as a courtesy, and not because of the physical attraction you think exists between the two of you. “I always overhear her calling customers sweetie, which people seem to like.”

A Starbucks regular who frequently watches you order from Sopel is reportedly “shocked” that you still haven’t realized that she only calls you by your first name when you pay with your debit card.

An Arizona library has eliminated the Dewey Decimal system. A heretical decision in some circles:

In defending Dewey, some have decried what they call the “Barnes & Nobling” and “Googlization” of libraries. On blogs and newsgroups, more than one commenter fumed “Have you ever tried finding something at a bookstore?” Some pointed out that Dewey is already essentially a list of subject headings, whose call numbers specify exactly where each book should be placed on the shelves. Many libraries print those subject headings on shelves under books.

Others, however, praised Perry’s decision, saying doing away with the inscrutable codes makes libraries easier to browse and more approachable.

But the debate, say many librarians, is about more than one branch’s organizational system. It feeds into a broader, increasingly urgent discussion about libraries, where a growing number of patrons, used to Google and Yahoo, simply don’t look for books and information the way they used to. Some are drawing on cues from the Internet in proposals for overhauls of cataloging systems, but others are more hesitant, saying that the Web’s tendency to provide thousands of somewhat-relevant results flies in the face of the carefully tailored research libraries pride themselves on.

Funny story about a guy who got a copy of Harry Potter shipped early.

Another astute column from my friend, Henry:

My neighbor hollers, the kids scatter. It looked like the beginning of another silly inner-city dispute, but soon police officers were involved, statements were being taken down and adults and kids quizzed. And then it ended just like that, the children resuming their mischief, the adults returning to their booze, and the officers driving off to yet another hot spot.

The scene can appear slightly comical: The policeman as disciplinarian, an arbiter of urban social disputes, neatly dressed in his pressed blue uniform, driving an immaculate cruiser, storming in with a gun on his hip, seeking to impose order in a place apparently designed for disorder. Doesn’t he feel misused, overburdened?

One would think that a reasonable, logical and more productive response from my aggrieved neighbor is to chat with the kids’ parents. But that wouldn’t happen: with little interaction among us, nobody really knows anybody here. Better to keep it that way. We’re merely passing through, strangers brought together by chance and determined to remain that way.

Good point. Read the rest. The last couple of graphs are very compelling.

One night some kids were out in the front of my house yelling and being hooligans. My neighbor went outside and told them to shut up. I was impressed that she didn’t call the police and just took care of it. I found out later that she knew at least one of the teen’s parents.

That explains why her house didn’t get T.P.’d.

Always a good read. The complete veiled reference explainer for the song “American Pie.”