In a corporate environment, competence counts for a lot. I was at a party once with some people at work, and Z (who had had a bit too much to drink, I must add)  said about J “He knows his shit. And when you say that about someone, that’s a great compliment to give, you know, that he knows his shit?” Number of cocktails inside Z aside, point noted. Competence matters.

But in the public sphere, it’s apparently OK to be a complete dimwit. I’ve been following the depositions of Greenspan, Robert Rubin and the good folks at various multiple-fancy-named institutions on Wall Street ( Goldman Sachs, Merrill Lynch, Morgan Stanley et al), and everyone’s saying this about the crisis: No one saw it coming.

Seriously? I’d like to see a CEO make that argument in a closed-door board meeting.

I shudder to think that these jokers hold the keys to the world’s largest economy. I don’t know which is worse: that they were incompetent enough to not understand that this was a train hurtling out of control, or that they are lying.

On the Radio

There are programs, and people who are made for a medium. For instance, Scorsese and Spielberg are cinema people, period. They may be great storytellers, but I don’t see them achieving greatness as, say, theater directors. Joss Whedon (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Firefly) is the quintessential television guy: his best work comes when he’s constrained by the hour-long format and he has the luxury of a full season or two to build character arcs.

In a similar way, Ira Glass and This American Life to me embody radio. The lack of visuals and the lo-fi audio are limitations the TAL team seems to revel in.

Not all radio shows feel that way. Even the good ones. NPR shows like Wait, wait, don’t tell me and Says you, I see them working as TV game shows or live acts of some kind.

But “This American Life” is pure radio (though, ironically, it had an award-winning two-season run as a TV series). The connection is direct and visceral: you and that voice on your radio. Technique goes a long way in making that work: a ‘sticky’ radio experience is dependent on atmosphere. As Ira Glass himself detailed in an illuminating talk on stage last year, great production and background music help immensely in making stories that stick. While listening to TAL, there are times when I’m absolutely riveted, and a break in the proceedings seems intrusive. 

Those driveway moments take hard work.