Soup of the day
RESTAURANTS often have on offer a “soup of the day,” usually priced lower than the others on the menu. The featured soup may include ingredients fresh in the market that day, or in abundant supply, and therefore cheap, after a flood in the fish pens, as in the case of milkfish bellies. And the soup du jour for the more upscale outlets is announced with appropriate fanfare by the waiter who will also include the wine of the day from Chile, available by the glass.
“Specials” for the day also apply to topics that news outlets or social media seem to favor on certain days. The usual herd mentality for news is driven by the constant fear of missing out (FOMO) on a hot subject, the journalistic soup of the day. This can require one to have opinions for discussion and debate. It doesn’t do to ask—what’s that?
These “trending topics” in the language of social media can cover a variety of subjects. Should a broadcaster return the fraudulently solicited sponsorship of sixty million gathered from one government account? (His lawyer said yes—does he check with his client?) Who is really behind the loudspeaker static and replacement? Is the leader hale and hearty? (Can he still carry heavy burden of friendships?)
One can see that soups that get heated and stirred daily consist of large chunks of stuff and conspiracy theories. And the meat that happens to be swirling in the hot mix just wants everything to cool off.
It is the serving of such soups that attract the crisis managers. There is a segment of communications specialists who thrive in setting fires or putting them out — sometimes it’s even the same team. For the beleaguered one in the burning pot, it is always good to distinguish the firefighters from the looters.
The attention span for news, which is defined as something that does not really involve you or your family and close friends (okay, maybe them), has shrunk.
Fifteen years ago, with the pace of news gathering and its dissemination and consumption in traditional media, the attention span was estimated, based on anecdotal evidence alone, at ten days. After this time, the viewer or reader moves to other things. To the millennial this chunk of time seems the equivalent of one paleontological period, say Jurassic. It is said that the attention span now for those who consume news and postings from their hand phone is three seconds (maybe, even two). Either the news item grabs them by their earphones in that time, or
it is swiped left for the next topic.
So, is the soup of the day to be savored slowly, to feel the lobster bisque on the tongue, before it slowly slides down in a sensuous trip down the esophagus, chased down by a sip of cold Chilean chardonnay (also the bargain of the day)? No. News is consumed like potato chips—how many bites do you need? A lot of the crumbs fall on the floor.
If attention is the new currency which thousands (make that hundreds of thousands) apps and platforms are chasing for their granularly targeted audiences (those between fifteen to twenty who just had root canal work), is the soup of the day even relevant? Should the target of trolls and demolition crews be overly concerned that he or she will be the target of the public’s attention (and ire) for long?
True, photo op events, like mass action even from the rent-a-crowd types may entice TV coverage and some video blogs. But even these stunts no longer compel attention, as crowds with no clear agenda may even attract the wrong kind of attention. Can loitering be a synonym for rallying?
Even when legal action is taken to the point of having lawyers interviewed in court in the news of the night when the defendant pleads a bad stomach and does not make an appearance, their rightful indignation comes across as rehearsed and recycled.
Of course, the rule when it comes to the soup of the day is simple—there will be another one tomorrow. And would you remember what they had last week?
There is a segment of communications specialists who thrive in setting fires or putting them out — sometimes it’s even the same team.