does to the media worker – not just journalists, per se, but communicators and artists of all kinds – who are now reduced to typing monkeys that have to go out and find those “instant experts” or cram to be able to at least play them on TV, or on a blog, or any other media. You’re expected to write or talk or shout about every crisis of the week, so you - I'm talking to you, fellow and sister media workers! - run to Wikipedia and the rest of the online library to pull up some factoids and buzzwords that fool the crowd into thinking the reporter or communicator really knows what he and she are writing or talking about. The formulaic nature of this kind of frenetic activity at work stations is killing so much of the creativity of the formerly “creative class”!
Just the other day, I was drinking a mint julep and listening to a friend often on my teevee ruefully acknowledge this. You pick three talking points. You adopt a confident grimace. You erect a defensive wall of snark, and you hammer home your catchphrases, peppered with enough stats to make them sound like informed conclusions. And then you let the sense of crisis do the work. When every issue hinges on a disaster in the making, the besieged viewer has just enough time to declare his allegiance. And in a world where only experts can have answers, anyone can become an instant expert.