Spot Us: community funded reporting

My fellow Propeller Scout, David Cohn, founded something awesome that I think everyone should check out. It’s a project called Spot Us:

Spot.Us is a nonprofit project of the Center for Media Change. We are an open source project, to pioneer “community funded reporting.” Through Spot.Us the public can commission journalists to do investigations on important and perhaps overlooked stories. All donations are tax deductible and if a news organization buys exclusive rights to the content, your donation will be reimbursed. Otherwise, all content is made available to all through a Creative Commons license. It’s a marketplace where independent reporters, community members and news organizations can come together and collaborate.

Ever since I started my first lame Where’s My Burrito? website and weblog, I’ve been excited by the potential we have in the 21st century to use the immediacy and ubiquity of the internets to deliver a serious challenge to the status quo. I can’t wait to see what happens with Spot Us and the people it inspires over the coming months.

who’s gonna drive you home tonight?

Anne and I took Nolan out to Glendale tonight for this art thing he likes to do. After we dropped him off, Anne said, “Hey, I want to have a dinner date with my husband.”

Bonus, unexpected dinner dates are always awesome, so I didn’t even put up token resistance, and we had an awesome meal together while Nolan did his thing a few blocks away.

When we were finished, Nolan met us in the parking garage, and wanted to drive home. He’s had his permit for about 5 weeks, and though he’s a very competent and careful driver, we were both a little nervous about letting him drive on the freeway at night.

“You’ve never driven on the freeway at night,” Anne said. “Maybe we should just take side streets.”

“But the freeway is much faster, and we have Family Guy on TiVo at home,” Nolan said.

“We’re concerned that you don’t have a lot of nighttime freeway driving experience,” she said, invoking the dreaded Royal We.

He put his hand on my shoulder and quite seriously said, “Wil, how am I going to get that experience if I don’t drive on the freeway at night?”

I looked at Anne. “He has a point,” I said.

I felt like The Old Man, the keys to my car a Red Rider Carbine Action Range Model Air Rifle With A Compass In The Stock And This Thing That Tells Time.

“Okay, just be careful,” Anne said. I can’t be certain, but I think I heard her add, “just don’t shoot your eye out.”

A few minutes later, as we drove down the freeway, I sat quietly and gently nudged Nolan with driving reminders. He’s really quite good, and I didn’t have to point out too many things to him, but on one ramp, one of those spiffy milk carton-looking Scions sped up and cut in front of us without using a turn indicator.

“You’ve got to watch for drivers like that,” I said, “and remember my fundamental rule of driving, which is . . .? “

Nolan scrunched up his face like he was thinking, and said, “Don’t be a dick?”

“That’s my fundamental rule for life,” I said. “My fundamental rule for driving is –“

“Oh, everyone on the road is an idiot, and they’re actively trying to kill you.” He said.

“That’s the one,” I said.

“I got it,” he said.

“But, you know, you can use them both,” I said.

“Okay, Wil,” he said, patiently. “I got it.”

“If you need them,” I added.

“I’m trying to drive here, Wil.” He said.

“Sorry.”

“…or else we didn’t win anything at all.”

I went to a local park and had lunch with a friend of mine today. It’s beautiful here, but we can tell that it’s Summer’s last attempt to hold Autumn at bay, and we’ll be suffering through the misery of sixty degree afternoons soon enough. There’s even rumor of an inch of rain before the end of the year, which we both know will turn our freeways deadly. Um, it also seemed like a good excuse to walk away from the computer and enjoy actual human contact for a change. While we ate sandwiches and watched little kids chase each other, we talked about the election. We’re two small blue spots in a sea of red here, and we’d shared hopes and fears over the last several months.

“I guess we’re supposed to be gracious in victory,” I said, “but I’m profoundly offended to hear ‘we need to look forward and not backward’ and ‘we need to stop being so partisan’ from the very same fucking motherfuckers who have been telling us that we hate our country and love terrorists for the last eight years? These are the same people who worked really hard to make sure that I and everyone who didn’t agree with their blind support of Bush and Bush policies didn’t feel welcome in our own fucking country for eight years!”

I looked down at my hands, which had involuntarily clenched into fists. I felt a frightening and unexpected, uncharacteristic fury rise in my chest.

“I want to grab these people by the throat and scream at them ‘HOW DO YOU LIKE IT FUCKER?! YOU LOST! YOU FAIL! YOU GO HOME NOW!’”

I kept my voice low, but was really worked up, shocked and horrified at the level of anger I was feeling.

We looked at each other for a moment. I was embarrassed by my outburst. This really isn’t like me. Fortunately, my friend is incredibly cool and unflappable. She is also incredibly wise. She put her sandwich down and wiped the corners of her mouth with a paper napkin.

She pointed out at the different people in the park and said, “They are home. We share this country, all of us, whether we like it or not.

“We voted against intolerance for people that don’t share ‘the right’ views because we and people we respect and admire have been the victims of intolerance for too long. We voted against hypocrisy and fear and hate. We voted for a chance to change.”

I unclenched my fists and looked at little half-moons in the palms of my hands. “I should feel celebratory. I should feel happy and relieved. Why in the world do I suddenly feel so angry?”

“Seething quietly and privately is understandable and totally warranted. Just, every time you want to grab someone by the throat, try to remember how both Obama and McCain have always reacted to boos from their audiences. One man said ‘we don’t need any more of that’ – and that’s the administration we voted for. Because we don’t need any more of that. We need to chip away at the havens of hate in this country until there is nothing left for the haters to fight with. Because that is going to be the biggest payback of all.

“Someday, the people that ‘don’t feel welcome’ in a tolerant and just place aren’t going to feel welcome anywhere.

“We don’t need to take any shit from anyone, but we can not become the bullies we’ve hated. Or else we didn’t win anything at all.”

While I processed all of this, she smiled and added, “Yes, my horse is very high, and I like it that way. I can see a long way from up here.”

“Damn. You’re wise,” I said. “I’m going to have to write down ‘We don’t need any more of that’ and use it to get over eight years of resentment. It’s going to take awhile to get over being called a traitor and being told to, effectively, ‘shut up and sing,’ but you’re absolutely right. We can not become the bullies we’ve hated.”

We finished our sandwiches, and walked through the park before we both had to get home to our families.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have had a second cup of coffee this morning,” I offered.

“I’m sure you’ll get your cool back once it wears off.”

I hope she’s right.

Afterthought: This doesn’t mean that progressives suddenly drop our agenda to fundamentally change things. This doesn’t mean that we don’t fight for what we believe in over the next four and hopefully eight years. This means that, as human beings and as Americans, we can choose to live in John McCain’s vision of an angry, divided, fearful America, or Barack Obama’s vision of a tolerant, united, hopeful America. It’s not going to be easy for me, especially after the hateful, divisive campaign McCain ran and eight years of being screamed at by George Bush’s True Believers. But as my friend said, “We need to chip away at the havens of hate in this country until there is nothing left for the haters to fight with. Because that is going to be the biggest payback of all … we can not become the bullies we’ve hated. Or else we didn’t win anything at all.”