IT'S TIME, DEAR FRIENDS

A podcaster's sense of ending and pausing the noise.

Chillie and I out walking at our rented, winter, lake-house.

I’m taking an extended break from podcasting. I’m sure you have already sensed some growing distance between myself and the home studio. I have a special to record and polish so will be posting that in the coming weeks. And I might post something of a goodbye later in the week. But that’s it for awhile.

Lately, I’ve been swimming around in an unclean fishbowl — also known as Podcastistan. Conspiracies get weirder (Epstein was eating babies. Erika was in on the murder of her own beloved husband). There is no actual evidence for either claim but still thousands and even millions are lining up to consume and pay for conspiracy garbage.

Many podcasters at the highest levels protect and interview each other, instead of seeking truth. The argument for staying might be that I bring old-fashioned journalism and critical thinking to the table but for now, in this moment, it just gets harder and harder to compete in a venue that applauds and rewards nonsense.

Or perhaps it is burnout after six years of non-stop curiosity and investigation of a world gone a little mad. It feels relentless.

I am peaceful about this decision and the trail you and I have blazed. And so very proud of how far we have come together.

On a personal note, producing and hosting this show and website for our #truthovertribe audience has been one of the greatest gifts of my professional life. I know what the podcast meant to people during COVID and I have tucked away stacks of letters from struggling listeners that still make me cry.

I was never in it for the money and I only used a paywall during the time I had a producer who brow-beat me into it. Neither lasted very long, although she was brilliant.

I pay my technical producer mostly out of my own pocket. I say this so you understand this was a mission, by a devoted journalist who loves her brave followers and the old fashioned paradigm of capital “J” journalism. I will always be grateful to the generous supporter from BC who sent a very large check last year to keep us going. And of course to all of you who support us here.

My husband and kids have tolerated my split-focus and often inflammatory politics plus penury because they know when I believe in something, my only road forward is “all in”.

Let’s face it — everyone and his dog is in the basement wearing a backward baseball cap, having invested in the Joe Rogan model Røde microphone, dreaming of their big break. Many don the mantel of “investigative journalist” — which has as much credibility as me grabbing a scalpel and calling myself a surgeon. I suppose they mean well but there is a dangerous element in pretending that good journalism requires no skills.

I will continue on Substack but only every few weeks or so. Please stay subscribed so I can find you for future plans. Those of you with paid subscriptions here, I hope will continue to find value in my writing and SS reporting. If not, let me know and I will pause your subscription.

Here’s my take on the current state of the podcasting industry. There are literally thousands of hosts committing a multitude of informational felonies daily, including some of the biggest names in the game. The trick now is to be liked, to build erroneous trust and then to milk it with as much sensational garbage as possible while the getting is good.

There are no guardrails. No rules. No specific skill-sets at play for most. And sadly — there is also no punishment for grossly misleading the public. When I began, there was Rogan, a bright, inquisitive human who asks good questions and carries a sense of wonder that informs the best kind of interviews. He’s not mean. And he’s already very rich, so not chasing the clicks and dollars.

But the industry’s current business model relies on rage-baiting, aimed at hiking addictive cortisol. It is, in its own way, a form of brain-washing.

The field is over-crowded and not with ethical hosts who want to make us smarter and better, at least in the news/politics/culture space. In English, there are 70 to 75 thousand of them competing for audiences.

• Active English News & Politics Podcasts: ~15,000 to 22,000 active shows.

• Active English Society & Culture Podcasts: ~35,000 to 55,000 active shows.

Summary: While there are over half a million News and Society/Culture podcast feeds floating around in English, you are realistically looking at a pool of about 50,000 to 75,000 active, ongoing shows currently fighting for ears.

It is demoralizing to witness but perhaps the problem is mine. Maybe podcasting was never supposed to fill the gap between failing legacy media and the citizenry - although I believe that during the COVID trauma we, here at Critical did some important reporting.

I am so grateful to you all for your kindness and generosity. It means so much. A proud moment was Tamara Lich telling Jordan Peterson she was inspired to take part in the Convoy because of our work. That really is a lifetime justification for the six years we’ve been at this.

Tamara is starting her own podcast and despite what I’m writing today about the banality of the backward baseball cap, she is worth listening to, a woman of true courage and principal. Her logistical and spiritual triumph in Ottawa will never be repeated. I hope Rebel News, which I have major issues with, let’s Tamara be Tamara — the truly good person who pulled off a miraculous, inclusive event with dedication and honesty. She is a living example of the best of who we are. As is Chris Barber, who has receded back into a private life.

Were I Tamara’s producer, I would make sure her wisdom and authentic kindness are showcased on the podcast. I have witnessed them firsthand. She has a lot to teach the country. Plus, she’s fun and despite what’s happened, can be remarkably light-hearted. Canada needs more of this.

I am so happy to have been of service and relieved to have made the right decisions on the fast-moving COVID story. It wasn’t luck, my friends. It was years of journalistic commitment and training — plus hard work as a medical reporter for the CBC — back when that meant something. Fauci/COVID was not my first Fauci-rodeo: to quote Joan Crawford.

I interviewed Fauci, back in the 80s, when he was screwing-up the response to HIV/AIDS. It was a scary time with young men dropping like flies and no known remedy. My best friend, Rick Kroshus, a television producer here in Toronto died of a GI bleed because of an AIDS/treatment screwup at a very big hospital. I’m still not over it. It took ages to find a funeral home that would even take his body.

I learned a few weeks ago that his partner, Ted Merrick died recently. We hadn’t spoken in years but shared an unbreakable trauma-bond, forged by the scourge of AIDS. I wish we had stayed in touch. A landscape architect of high repute, Ted planted a beautiful lilac garden at my old, Riverdale house.

I remain proudly unvaccinated. Every time I say it, I feel a calm that buttresses my self-confidence. I hope you feel it too, if you chose this path.

After years of reporting on war and covering the Middle East, we predicted the horror in Gaza early, given the phoney beheaded babies propaganda and dehumanizing comments by Netanyahu and some of his ministers. We were solidly roasted here for it but the world is catching up and I’m am proud of our work on that, too.

But it is time for an ending of sorts. Here’s why.

In 2022, I had the honour of hosting the first, Free Speech in Medicine Conference in Baddeck, Nova Scotia — organized by Dr. Chris Milburn and his wife, both were at the forefront of COVID dissident medicine. Lovely people and heroic.

In retrospect, it was perhaps a bigger honour than any of the journalism awards I have won over the decades. The idea was that all media needed a reset, a renewed commitment to factual reporting even if it contradicted the prevailing, accepted narratives.

Dr. Jay Bhattacharya, now head of the NIH was a speaker. He and I had become friendly and Jay is one of the kindest people I know.

The mood was upbeat and there was hope that we could turn censorship of dissidents and critical journalists around. A couple of days before the conference opened, Elon Musk purchased Twitter, as it was known then and I opened my remarks that first day by crowing about what I believed was a victory for our side.

Many of the esteemed people in that room had been censored by the Jack Dorsey regime — all of it exposed later by Matt Taibbi in the Twitter-files. It was a relief when Elon let the important voices, like Jay, out of social media jail.

Sadly, to this day, my own X account is still throttled and virtually pointless. My twenty-nine thousand followers mostly don’t see what I post. I’ve gained barely any new followers since Elon took over and everything I post is buried. Why?

For us less-high-profile victims of the punishing algos, there is no way out. The free speech promise was a lie — a public relations move. It is extremely difficult to grow a podcast without social media promotion. But here we are, in the all new, better, remade world of “indy media” — still beholden to billionaires like Elon who use the words free speech as a marketing ploy. But this is not my motivation today. What I am rebelling against is far more serious.

Let me explain.

In 1989, the British journalist David Blundy was shot and killed by a sniper in El Salvador, while going about the work of an old-school reporter — covering war.

I knew him mostly from my perch as a lowly, booking-producer for CBC’s The Journal but when he was in Toronto, David was always ready for a cocktail with our foreign affairs team — as was the renowned writer, Christopher Hitchens. Of course, all the young women in the office had a mad crush on them both, myself included.

Hitchens and Blundy carried a heady, swashbuckling aura born of their reputations in the firmament of bold English writers. And both had weaponized their shaggy, boarding-school-boy looks. “Hitch” was a fearless critic of his own, neocon upper-crust class — although politically, he wobbled throughout his life. They were formidable advocates for my profession. They wrote beautifully.

David was frequently in harm’s way, “dodging bullets.” Sadly in the end, not successfully. He represents everything important and good about what we used to call the “news business”. I very much wanted to be like him. I believed that seeking truth was a principal worth dying for. I still do.

From the New York Times:

A British journalist, David Blundy, was killed today by a sniper’s bullet while covering the military offensive here, colleagues said.

Mr. Blundy was hit while walking down a street with other reporters covering the rebel offensive in a San Salvador suburb, said his editor at The Sunday Correspondent in London, Peter Cole.

Mr. Blundy, 44 years old, died in a hospital after surgery. His editor said he never regained consciousness.

‘’The last thing I heard him say was, ‘Get me out of here,’ ‘’ said a photographer, Bill Gentile of Newsweek, who was with Mr. Blundy when he was struck.

Mr. Gentile said he did not know who had fired the shot. The journalists were walking in an area of Mejicanos, a working-class district of the capital that had been retaken by the army. Rebels and troops were exchanging fire about four blocks away.

Mr. Blundy’s death brought to 31 the number of Salvadoran and foreign journalists killed during the 10-year civil war in El Salvador, according to the New York-based Committee to Protect Journalists. The last three fatalities occurred during the presidential elections in March.

‘’This is devastating news,’‘ said Mr. Cole. ‘’He was very experienced and his career was one of great bravery.’‘

When the worst happened at the hands of a sniper during a casual walk though a dangerous neighbourhood in San Salvador, we all cried over the loss. David’s daughter wrote a marvellous book about the pain of having a dashing foreign correspondent father. A hero to the world but a profound absence for her, now permanently.

Every Time We Say Goodby — can be purchased here.

His death matters. As do the deaths of the all the people who, like brave soldiers have given their lives in service of democracy and truth. I didn’t think twice about a very dangerous dash through civil-war torn Burundi, my psychological aftershocks after the Rwandan genocide or the foolishness of hitch-hiking off the tarmac of the closed airport in Kigali. The risks I took to get out to the oil spill in Prince William Sound make me shake my head. But they served a higher purpose than my own safety.

We are called journalists — a profession now reviled and understandably so, especially given Russia-gate which proved to be a totally made up propaganda operation. Media’s fealty to the government and it’s COVID screw ups is unforgivable.

My point is, somewhere between the heroic death of David Blundy and the arrival of CNN, Trump and then COVID — legacy media betrayed itself. It was no longer journalists doing journalism.

The rise of the blowed-dried and air-headed anchor person always worried me. Broadcasters realized their audience would show up for good-looking people no matter how lacking in credentials they might be. They were paid millions to present stories prepared by other people but also wielded ridiculous amounts of power in the newsroom.

They were supreme because focus groups and ratings suggested that viewers wanted it that way. The olden days that required senior reporters who became anchors to have covered cops/courts/city-hall/state/province/federal and then foreign wars were tossed aside for good hair, emotional theatrics and better advertising revenue. Journalism itself had become performative.

It was only a matter of time until, because of political divides and foolishness, legacy media flamed out. Ignoring Hunter Biden’s laptop, unfair and dishonest attacks on Trump and conservatives more generally, the hawking of vaccines and the beatification of Anthony Fauci, all signalled the end of the road.

The problem is, nothing has replaced it. Certainly not podcasting which is now, save a few, a place where thieves and pimps run free (to quote Hunter Thompson writing about the music industry). We’ve gone from media abandoning its own ethical guidelines and rules to an indy media space without any ethical guidelines and rules. And a business model based on preaching to the converted and tribal, high-school cliques that pander to a dangerous fake reality they, themselves have created.

The empty-headed anchor has been replaced by the daily podcast host who fills the air with “content” — meaning noise, manipulative “opinions”, inflammatory conspiracies and whatever they think will capture and enlarge their following.

They take no risks in service of truth and rarely leave their studios. Most never break stories themselves, but poach other people’s work and sell it as if it were their own. It is commodified through the vulgarities of TikTok, X and deranged YouTube channels designed to massage the listener into a cortisol-induced anger frenzy. The more crazed the YouTube thumbnail — the higher the ratings.

It’s as if ethics, skill, wisdom and experience have become quaint artifacts to be discarded as an impediment to the fast-paced world of insta-news that might go viral. But the truth is, the best journalists observe and research keenly and then write precisely and sometimes even poetically.

Aside from a few lawsuits that are finally starting to drop, if a podcaster maliciously smears someone or targets a person with false accusations — there is no remedy. There is no senior editor or research team to push back. No reputational risk for the host. And perhaps most dangerous of all — growth data suggests that audiences care more to be entertained, even if by lies.

Has truth become less appealing? This does not apply to my own #truthovertribe audience but it does mean that the formula for commercial success demands a moral failing I can’t abide.

In a chilling exchange recently, solid but grumpy investigative journalist Michael Tracey suggested its time for podcasts to die. Bret Weinstein, whom, as scientist rose to well-deserved fame with his own podcast, during COVID — expressed concern over Tracey’s censorious position. Then Michael pointed out that Bret himself appeared on a podcast with someone claiming Epstein had eaten children, noting that Bret did not push back against this insane accusation.

Bret is a decent bloke and may have stayed quiet out of social convention or politeness. But he has credibility and if he is going to spend it — it should be on meaningful, demonstrable narratives — in my opinion. Either spend weeks, as Michael Tracey has, doing the research on Epstein or avoid the subject and leave it to people who have. It’s hard to spend days reviewing document boxes or the digital equivalent, while hitting a podcast deadline. It doesn’t work that way. This is indy media’s fatal flaw.

So, the price to be paid is that good people, loyal to truth and with a skill-set and commitment to it, will leave podcasting. Some great ones remain. Greenwald, Taibbi, and Carlson. All three carve their own path and don’t pander. Interestingly — all three have worked as actual journalists and would likely still call themselves that. And they should.

But the grifter-class of influencer personalities grows faster and continues it’s deceptive, performative I am an investigative journalist phase — but without the training, care, discernment, honesty or balanced objectivity that this once-proud profession requires.

You will be lead to believe a multitude of horrible things that aren’t true. You will be lead to believe a multitude of true things are false. You will be lead.

In the meantime, I am gracefully taking a long breather. I will be reading, focussing on my kids, my husband, my dog and nature. Ann Bauer has reignited my love of old literature and I may finally move to the country. Pushing forward still on The Convoy film — which is about people whose good character elevates us all.

After years of research I have not found the Convoy’s fatal flaw, the hidden cash, dark plans to overthrow the government or even, at least amongst the leadership — even a trace of a mean streak. They are the best of us. Yet Mark Carney, the man who leads our drowning country had a hand in what can only be described as an elites-driven conspiracy leading to a profound and traumatic assault — on our very goodness.

The film is not a hagiography. But an exposé of how governments ruin innocent people.

Stay tuned here. I will continue to write from time to time. And I will always be thinking of you.

What does retreat from the madness look like? This is not surrender but something else. Maybe in the short term all we can do is stop all the data centres. :)

Please reach out if you feel compelled to. We are friends here. And as I write this, my heart is bursting with love and gratitude. Thank you for supporting me, my work and for six-years of your critical thinking. Against all odds.

We all walk a crooked path these days but it might yet lead us back home. Together.

Stay critical.

See ya.

#truthovertribe