I want to go to a place where I can go to a football game, take off my shirt, paint my chest and major in beer.

It is one of the paradoxes of journalism: The more servile a reporter is toward his sources, the more authoritative he can appear in print.

Somewhere in the dim recesses of the journalistic soul lies the horrible suspicion: This is really a pretty shallow and maybe unseemly way for a grownup to make a living.

I want to go to a place where I can go to a football game, take off my shirt, paint my chest and major in beer.

Incoherence is a common hazard for journalists who dabble in ethical judgments.