Building a Better Blogger

The other night, I went over to Migg’s place to watch CNN cover the Ohio and Texas primaries. As I was watching CNN, I noticed that many of the commentators and analysts were sitting in from of open laptops. During the course of the evening, the commentators would refer to (and even read from) different politically-oriented blogs. Some of the blogs were established political rags, but other blogs belonged to voters in Ohio and Texas who wrote about their voting/caucusing experiences. It was a very interesting broadcast. One minute you had commentary from senior political analysts like James Carville, the next minute you had Roland S. Martin reading from his frat brother’s blog. It was very endearing and refreshing to hear real reporting from normal people instead of the canned politico crap that we get from the usual cast of talking heads.

I hate to be Mr. Obvious here, but the Internet has revolutionized the way information is collected and distributed. There is a new world of ideas and opinions only a few key strokes away. I don’t need to go to CNN for my daily news, I can go to DailyKOS or Indymedia. Bloggers are the primary force in the decentralization of the news media and I am happy to do my small part in this epic battle.

As happy as I was to see some fellow bloggers get some love on CNN, I was equally pissed when I read an article on the LA Weekly a few days later. I read an article called “For Some Reviewers, the Party’s the Thing,” by Steven Mikulan. I am generally not a theater-head, but this article intrigued me because it had an illustration of a pig in a suit and old school press hat totally wolfing down some cheese and grapes. The other dressed up oinker was painted downing some bubbly like Gloria Ferrer and Veuve Clicquot were going out of business.

The basic premise of Mikulan’s article is that many theater critics only review a play if there is a reception afterwards. In other words, it is a journalisitic quid pro quo: “I will show up to your opening night and review your play if you feed me.” This dynamic is even more appalling when Mikulan suggests that reviews are dependent on how well the critic is wined and dined at the reception. If the reception serves string cheese and 2-Buck Chuck, the critic will poop on your play. If you serve gourmet tri-tip sandwiches and Dom P, expect a glowing review and a sell-out run. Either way, good or bad, the production gets some much needed press. Not inviting the critic to the reception is a gamble since they might not even show up to review the play.

What interests me most about Mikulan’s article is how he dances around the issues of accountability and journalistic ethics. In the entire article he only uses the word “ethical” once and never uses the word “integrity.” Mikulan tip-toes around the issue by saying that he does not attend post-play receptions and that the LA Times specifically prohibits its reviewers from attending such functions. He does say that there are “second-tier” or “B-level” critics who are often the worst offenders. This strain of “critic” is guilty of many crimes like exchanging reception invites for reviews/positive press, stealing food, and getting completely obliterated off of the complimentary drinks. Mikulan describes these junior varsity critics as,

“reviewers for a vast, unincorporated territory of neighborhood broadsheets, ethnic tabloids, ad-for-review papers, student newspapers, public-access TV and radio programs, vanity zines, theater Web sites, and blogger-critics.”

After reading Mikulan’s article, I was pretty upset at the notion that someone would trade their credibility as a critic for some free food and drink. Do not get it twisted, I am not that naïve where I think that all journalists abide by a rigid ethical code. Examples abound of journalists using their influence in exchange for money and power. While I do not agree with it, I understand the temptation of a rouge journalist writing a story because someone is going to leave you a suitcase full of money. However, I do not understand some two-bit blogger selling his/her credibility for some raw baby carrots, a stale croissant sandwich, and a glass of headache-inducing bargain wine.

I almost committed the same sin as these theater bloggers. The other night I had the pleasure of going to the Stones Throw Records release party for their new DVD "In Living The True Gods." The party started with a viewing of the DVD and finished with DJ sets from Egon and Peanut Butter Wolf.

These cats threw a live ass party! Once inside, I got a nice poster of the DVD cover which will probably go up in my living room soon. As if the poster wasn’t cool enough, they also had an open bar provided by 10 Cane Rum. Vitamin Water was there in full effect with their full line of products. Vitamin Water and 10 Cane is the new grown-man “faderade” for the 2K8. The viewing was off the hook, Egon and PB killed it, and I got a nice solid buzz. Oh, I forgot to mention that this was all FREE!!!

A day or two after reading the Mikulan article, I was getting ready to write a review about the DVD viewing. I started writing down some ideas and making a rough outline, then it hit me. I thought to myself, “Vic, you can’t write this article. How could you be impartial?” My gut reaction was right. Stones Throw just showed my sorry ass a good time and now I am expected to critically and impartially review their product? Did I enjoy the free drinks, or the editing of the DVD? Could I really critique the music videos that made it onto the DVD when I was too busy stuffing my face with free kettle corn? No, I could not.

We make it a big point to talk about journalistic ethics as applied to major media outlets like CNN or the New York Times, but what about bloggers? Are we supposed to abide by the same ethical guidelines as journalists? Are we journalists? Does it even matter?

With our ever increasing reliance on the blogosphere, this question will be ever more important.

Discuss!!!!

I am emotionally scarred ....

Being a kid in 1980s was pretty sweet. Being a kid in 1980s Los Angeles was even better. The decade of the 80s was the Golden Age of L.A. sports. It might have been the best stretch of sports in any city, ever. Here is the breakdown:

Los Angeles Lakers: NBA Finals Champs in '80, '82, '85, '87, and '88 (and Finals losses in '83, '84, and '89)

Los Angeles Dodgers: World Series Champs in '81 and '88

Los Angeles Raiders: Super Bowl Champs in '81 (still in OAK) and '84 (L.A.)

To be sure, I did spend the first half of the '80s drooling and soiling myself. I did get my sports chops together pretty quickly though, probably because of my older family members. I vividly remember the Lakers killing the Pistons and Kirk Gibson's double pump.

In my mind I have this Pantheon of untouchable L.A. athletes. These are the guys that got me to love sports as much as I do. The short list of the "All-'80s Legends Club" includes Magic Johnson, James Worthy, Orel Hershiser, Fernando Valenzuela, Kirk Gibson, Marcus Allen, Howie Long and the list goes on. These guys would have to do some seriously scandalous stuff for me to not hold these guys in high regard. Let's put it this way: If Byron Scott and Vin Scully tried to recruit me for a gang whose sole purpose was to kick puppies and punch six year-olds, I would probably have to hear them out. Yeah, its that deep.

So then I saw this ...



After I saw this video, I was was completely floored. I still really don't know what to make of it. Is this what my heroes did in their spare time? Can we just chalk it up to run-of-the-mill 1980s flamboyant behavior?

This reminds me of that one Chappelle Show episode when Charlie Murphy meets Prince. He was talking about how cats from L.A. used to dress in like mesh shirts and red leather pants. All this time I just thought he was cracking jokes!

Where is the Outrage?

I have to put my foot down. Push came to shove and now we about to chuck ‘em. If you can’t tell from these words, I am genuinely bent. Why am I bent? Two words: Mexican food.

Anyone who has spent enough time around me knows that I love my Mexican food. I grew up eating my mom’s and grandma’s cooking, so Mexican food is something that is deeply personal to me. We don’t know how long these recipes have been in our family, but we do know that if you are going to cook you better do it right or get the hell out of the kitchen. You should see how upset my mom gets when something she made isn’t up to spec (it never happens but she is just that on point with her food – we usually can’t tell).

As a general statement, the Mexican food scene in Los Angeles is probably the best in the nation top to bottom. From little joints specializing in chilango food like Huarache Azteca, to nice sit down restaurants tackling the complexity of the Yucatan like El Portal, Los Angeles has it all. What I love the most is that there are other Mexican restaurants out there that I am dying to try, like Amaranta and the venerable La Serenata de Garibaldi.

So things must be all good right? Vic lives near the best Mexican food anywhere, he must be happier than Roger Clemens with a needle in his ass, right? Nope, not by a long shot (no pun intended). A couple of things have gone down in the past few months that have really changed the way I view Mexican food. Some expected some not so expected. The masa has hit the fan; something in the Mexican food game needs to change.

A few weeks ago the homey D-Roc was in town visiting from the Bay Area. After much phone tag, we finally decided to meet up somewhere in Pasadena for dinner. We both decided that El Cholo would be a good look for some Mexican food. Rewind a few years back. My Uncle Raul and I went to El Cholo like in 2002 and had an awesome meal. We both ordered the carnitas dinner and they might have been the best I have ever eaten. Each plate had several rock-like lumps of braised pork. All you had to do was take the back of the fork to break the crispy exterior to reveal a solid mass of juicy, stringy heaven. After that meal, I was certainly convinced that El Cholo had the best carnitas in L.A. … period!

When D-Roc came, I said we should go El Cholo. I was woofing my ass off on how it was super legit food. He went with the blue corn chicken tamales and I ordered the carnitas. His food was good, my food was down right offensive. Instead of the crispy heat rocks of yesterday, I got a diced pork chop floating around in some white liquid. I almost sent it back, except that it was really late and I was starving. D-Roc enjoyed his food, and I am singularly happy for that. I would have hated for his dish to have been terrible when I really woofed about this joint.

The next offense came at the hands of a controversial figure: Chipotle. A lot of my Latino brethren do not like the Chip because it lacks the amorphously-defined “authentic” Mexican flavor. Well, I’ve been to Mexican joints that claimed to be “authentic” as Benito Juarez himself only to get bad food. A few bites into the food and you think, “Yep, this right here is an authentic piece of crap.”

I have never been all that big a fan of Chipotle because I have always been around better Mexican food. However, I do like their approach. Their food is freshly cooked, made to order, and they try to use the best ingredients possible (pure avocado, Niman Ranch pork). I just don’t know how I can go back there after the burrito I had the other day. Chipotle simply lacks the course work in basic and advanced burrito construction. The burrito I got was terribly put together, bursting at the seams due to an unwanted serving of “extra rice.” Once you bite the burrito, you are more likely to get a bite of just one ingredient like rice or beans and seemingly nothing else. I found myself in a better mood once I reached the Promised Land: three to four “all-meat” bites of Niman Ranch carnitas. But as soon as my joy came, it left. After eating that section, you realize that the rest of the meal is all down hill BECAUSE YOU JUST ATE ALL THE MEAT IN YOUR BURRITO!! By this time, I was just so pissed that I couldn’t be more pissed at the fact that the tortilla was legitimately frigid, chewy mess. I can tell you right now, real spit, that my mom or grandma would never EVER make a burrito that terrible.

Let me digress for a second and I promise that this rant will make more sense. If you have followed international business or are a foodie, chances are that you have heard of the changes in labeling that prohibit the use of regional names in the marketing of products. A few years ago, it would have been kosher to classify a product from Napa Valley as “champagne.” Today, that same product has to be called “sparkling wine.” The term “champange” can only be used from products that are made within a certain region in France. Much ink has been spilled on this particular trade problem.

In the same way the French are trying to protect their wine-making tradition, the Japanese government has announced that they will begin the process of “certifying” American restaurants that purport to serve Japanese cuisine. The goal of the program is to honor those American restaurants that are at the forefront of serving authentic Japanese cuisine.

I hate to say it (gulp), but the French and the Japanese are right. It is the job of a country, or its people, to defend its culinary traditions from the bastardizations of modern consumer culture. If Vic was running things, I would form a task force that would grant or revoke licenses to sell Mexican food. If you sell bad food, whether in a nice sit down joint or a taco truck, you will get your license revoked and you wouldn’t be able to serve Mexican food.

See what you all have made me do? I don’t really want to be the Burrito Nazi, but I will if I have to. Who is to blame for all this? Firstly, Mexicans. Secondly, Whites. Mexicans bear the brunt of the responsibility because we have just gotten lazy. There is no reason for a cold tortilla or a poorly rolled burrito. We as Mexicans have commoditized a part of our culture and are turning it to crap really fast. Think of the last time you got some bad Mexican food. Do you think those cats in the kitchen cook like that for their families? No, not a chance in hell. Whether you are rolling up a two-dollar bean and cheese burrito or you are slow-roasting some cochinita pibil, it is important to carry on the traditions in a responsible way.

White people bear some responsibility for this mess because Mexicans have been serving up crap and you all have been loving it. Last night I Yelped the neighborhood to find a good Mexican joint and it was hard to tell which ones were good and which ones sucked. Almost all of them had a three-plus star rating. Not only did they all have high ratings, but they all had at least one uber-glowing review like, “OMG!! This is the best taqueria ever!!!”* I went to one of these highly rated joints the other night and it was terrible. I never thought I would see the day when I would get a flaccid burrito. No lie.

I love my culture and I love sharing it so I take it personally when Mexican food restaurants don’t have their game tight. I do not know how, but we have let this go on far too long.

If a player on the Mexican National Soccer team screws up, we yell at the coach to pull the bum out. If someone comes to our party and shows up with a dirty bottle of Sauza, we tell them to stop being cheap and bring some Patron. But when we know that some spots are serving sub-par Mexican food, we turn a blind eye and let it slide. What gives?

*NOTE: I know its White people who review on Yelp because Mexicans don’t have computers. All the Mexicans in L.A. have like a combined total of 9 computers and Migg, Uncle Raul, and I have about six of those.