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We love dirty laundry

The headline is from a Don Henley song, and the brief point I wanted to make here was to hark back once more to the blogging standards discussion from Costas Now this week. It seems we are getting a Roger Clemens story a day, the latest being his relationship with John Daly's ex-wife. Recent days also have brought the report of how Karl Malone apparently fathered a child with a 13-year-old girl when he was a sophomore in college.

These stories didn't come from the "blogosphere," but from the traditional old media. So we can't exactly claim any moral high ground just because we're not printing pictures of Matt Leinart with a beer bong.

Clemens, Malone, Leinart, Barbara Walters ... Yes, we love dirty laundry. The deal is, we have for a very long time, but it's just that now it's easier and quicker to deliver it. And the fact that some of those delivering the dirt might not have the highest standards when it comes to verifying their reports is nothing new either. The National Enquirer was sitting at your supermarket checkout long before the first keys were struck on a blog. Now, as before, it's up to the consumer to decide the value and potential veracity of such information. That's something that hasn't changed just because of the news' conduit.

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Now, what is fast becoming Medium Well's most popular feature: the weekly Sun pickup basketball update.

Today featured enough people to run four-on-four on a short court and also marked the return of the Big Redhead, who said he hadn't played in three years. He knocked off the rust in an effort

NBA.com 

greatly aided by being matched against Dead Man Walking, for whom defense is but a distant memory, sort of like the speech he gave at his bar mitzvah. The Scranton Flash and Shutterbug engaged in another spirited battle. Though hampered by DMW's presence, Flash's team prevailed in most of the games. Maryland Matt victimized Stevie B. on several cuts to the basket, though Stevie B. retaliated by tossing up some shots that nearly cleared the backboard.

The day's biggest upset: Stevie B. brought his folding lawn chair, but not a jug of chai tea.

 

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