$31,500, Part 2

Of course it's ridiculous that A.I.G. employees received $165 million in "retention bonuses" while working for a company that, in usual circumstances, would be the world's biggest failure. (Unfortunately, there are plenty of competitors these days.) The bonuses are indicative of a pay structure in the financial sector, especially on Wall Street, that is irretrievably broken. Bankers, top executives, et al were paid based on the quantity of deals they made and money they moved, not whether their investments were wise, profitable ones in the long run. They were paid handsomely, bought lots of expensive things and, often, left the company they were crippling. It's hard not to be angry when those bonuses, individually, are 10 times larger than my annual salary.

Nonetheless, I consistently find the arguments for why the bonuses should be paid in full far more compelling than those proposing to snatch them back, such as the 90 percent tax passed by the House 10 days ago. The Times' columnists Andrew Ross Sorkin and Joe Nocera offered the most lucid explanations.

Ross-Sorkin's now-(in)famous column is exactly correct: We, the U.S., don't want to live in a country where the government breaks legal contracts in response to whatever deafening roar the latest news cycle and populist opinion have created. Long-term business growth will end. The federal government has already effectively nationalized some of the country's signature corporations -- for example, keeping Pandit and ousting Wagoner -- which is acceptable, considering how broken they are. But through it all, the government needs to remain consistent about what the parameters of the game are. No "average homeowner" or "average union member" would want to see the contracts governing their important assets changed without warning or say, either.

Nocera, among many good points, correctly describes the furor as "destabilizing." Congress and the Obama administration need to create consistent policy that establishes the path to light at the tunnel's end, not turning the economy into an 8-ball. 90 percent taxes help achieve this about as much as saying A.I.G. executives should commit suicide or saying Justice Bader Ginsburg is months away from dying (both comments uttered by Republicans, if I may add). In short, it doesn't help at all. Being enraged at A.I.G. is easy and perhaps cathartic, but it doesn't solve any problem. Thankfully, President Obama appears to realize this.

I even found myself sympathizing with Jake DeSantis, the executive vice president of A.I.G.'s financial products unit, aka the unit that killed the company, who resigned via a lengthy letter in the Times' op-ed page. As he describes himself, he's a person from a very modest family who wasn't part of the unit responsible for the debacle; wants to work honorably to help unwind the company; and in addition to his anger at his boss betraying him, fears for his future, considering the rage directed at all A.I.G. employees. These are all compelling things to write, and demonstrate perhaps the greatest lesson I've learned as a reporter: Things are never easily solved; rarely is someone wholly wrong and someone else wholly right; almost everyone has a reason for doing the things they do and a perspective that deserves to be heard. (Side note: I certainly wonder what it's like being a parent who's with DeSantis at their kids' basketball game these days. What do you say to him?)

However, DeSantis' letter also demonstrates what is probably the other great lesson I've learned as a reporter: There is no agency or responsibility in 21st-century institutions. The system dominates all. Whenever I ask a question about something awry, sources always answer in the passive tense. They don't say, "I decided to stop paying the town's water bill." They say, "It was decided to stop paying the town's water bill." See the difference?

DeSantis worked in the unit that killed A.I.G, yet he was never involved in any of it. In fact, no "more than a handful of the 400 current employees of A.I.G.-F.P." were, he writes. Well, then, who exactly was? Obviously, many have been fired, but who were those people? Can we at least know who those people are, or are they so anonymous and unremarkable that it will only be a gigantic letdown when we find out? Many people in many places were making lots of bad decisions and we don't know who any of those people are. They say they followed the company's plan, their boss' directions, etc, etc, until we reach the point that executives say they were working to return value to shareholders. And who are they? Millions of people. Responsibility is diluted to the point that it's meaningless.

$31,500, Part 1

Jim Calhoun, the renowned head coach of UConn's men's basketball team, created lots of unwanted attention for himself recently, when he exploded at a gatecrashing freelancer at a postgame news conference. The rogue reporter, apparently a law student, pressed Calhoun about whether he would forefeit any of his $1.6 million salary, considering the state of Connecticut has an $8.7 billion deficit the next two years and he's its highest-paid employee. (Video is above.)

"Get some facts and come back and see me," Calhoun shouted a few times. Turns out, as is often the case with those who have to answer questions from the press, he was the one who didn't have his facts. He said the team brings in $12 million, though phrased it ambiguously, so it was unclear if that's net or gross revenue. The Hartford Courant helpfully breaks down how the $12 million is a misleading number: Calhoun's team brings in $7.3 million while costing $6.1 million. A profit, yes, but not as large as the one he claims.

My job often involves asking employees about their salaries and then printing them, and I'm always struck by how openly sensitive a topic it is. People who I have good relationships with start to stammer, become defensive and craft elaborate explanations for why they're worth it. The CEO of a small, publicly traded company stopped talking to me for six months after I included his salary in a broader story.

Obviously, salaries are the quickest doorway to class division. You want it to be private. When someone reads about another earning more than him, the gut reaction is to scoff, insult and claim the other person isn't worth it. However, part of working in the public sector, or as a top employee of a publicly traded company, is your salary is public. It's the downside to the generous pension and other benefits you earn because of the career path you've chosen. Accept it. In fact, I think those who become so offended just by the fact that someone utters their salary aloud are quite insecure about what they make. If you think you're worth it, you shouldn't be ashamed and/or riled about the dollar figure, and you should say as much confidently and politely. My salary is this post's title. I'd make it this post's title if there were another 0 at the end.

To return to Calhoun, his salary is a valid issue for debate. The University of Connecticut's central mission isn't to have a talented basketball team (while reaping lots of sponsorship deals that don't benefit the players and graduating dramatically fewer than the number who play in the NBA), as fun as it is. The mission is to educate Connecticut's young adults to produce a better state economy. Jim Calhoun doesn't contribute to the university's central mission.

This becomes relevant when state budgets have mammoth deficits and private universities lose remarkable percentages of their endowments. Pete Carroll, another totemic college coach, of Southern California's football team, was the highest-paid employee at any private U.S. university in the 2006-07 fiscal year, reports the Chronicle of Higher Education. While Mr. Carroll certainly deserves to earn what the free market will pay him, U.S.C. doesn't have its priorities set correctly.

As Bill Simmons points out in this bleak column, much of the country isn't too interested in spending on sporting events these days. (Though the column also proves why he's a columnist and not a reporter, as he presents wild hyperbole that about 11 NBA teams could relocate and 15 NHL teams could fold in the next couple of years as near-fact.) Perhaps the University of Connecticut et al should reconsider exactly how interested they are in spending on sports these days.

The Best Chip There Is

With sadness and gratitude, these pages note the death earlier this month of Steve Bernard, the founder of Cape Cod Potato Chips, which is easily my favorite chip. He was 61 and the cause was pancreatic cancer.

By the time I was introduced to the chip in late high school -- by a good friend who also introduced me to Cape Cod itself -- Mr. Bernard had already sold his company once, bought it back and sold it again, so perhaps I can't say he is personally responsible for my love of the chip. (And I love potato chips; they're unquestionably my favorite snack food.) However, he created a wonderful potato chip. Cape Cod's chips are so excellent because they have a great crunch whose oil and salt are barely detectable. You actually taste the chip and don't have disgustingly greasy fingertips from fishing around in the bag for a handful. They're reduced-fat chips taste like the fully fattening version, which I can't write of any other brand. And the alternate flavors I like, "Golden Russet" and "Beachside Barbecue," are great because they have deep flavor without being overwhelming. The russet is baritone and earthy; the barbecue, fun and tangy.

In the past 10 years or so, the number of gourmet potato chip brands, such as Kettle, has grown markedly, which I can't say is a bad thing. I love companies that take a pedestrian food, such as the potato chip, experiment with its seasoning and introduce us to new possibilities. But Cape Cod chips are a great argument for why the middlebrow matters: Bernard took a different, slightly more "elitist" approach, making chips with kettle-cooking rather continuous frying, that had a better taste than everything else -- and he introduced it to a mass audience. It wasn't on the extreme end of the flavor spectrum, as some newer brands are, which repels the "typical supermarket shopper," but it was a vast improvement to where the chip industry sat on that spectrum at the time. Additionally, his product was also approachable and affordable, the latter undoubtedly helped by being bought out by larger companies.

That underlying principle -- subtly elevating mainstream taste; nudging the middlebrow higher by making high-quality products available to a mass audience -- is one of the biggest things missing from early-21st-century American life.

Thanks to my girlfriend for buying me a small bag of the Russet flavor Sunday, in Mr. Bernard's honor. They tasted great.

Probably The Most Caustic, Incisive, Funny Thing I've Seen In Months

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Is it a good or bad thing that the most biting commentary these days comes from the Daily Show? The show's (and Jon Stewart's) liberal binge the past year or so has yielded some great segments. However, does the show start to reach the point that it broadcasts into an echo chamber? It's a pretty big echo chamber, though. More than 1.5 million people have watched it on the Daily Show's Web site, as of today.

Grapefruit Leagues

In late winter in Boston, there are days when it's warm enough for the most ambitious to wear shorts while there are still bits of snow on the ground. Yesterday was one of those and it was great (though I was certainly wearing pants). The air had a slight humidity in it that's been absent for months.

On my drive from New York to Boston yesterday, I also had the pleasure of listening to one of those other joyous signs of winter's end: the Mets playing a spring training game! Not only were nearly all the Mets' starters out of commission, playing in the World Baseball Classic, it was a split-squad game, meaning nearly every player was unrecognizable -- even to the announcers. Twice they didn't know who was batting because the players were wearing different numbers than listed in the scorecard. At one point, they said, "We can't see the bullpen from here, but we'll let you know who the new pitcher is as soon as we figure it out." How wonderful.

It got me thinking that we're not that far away from being able to eat fruit other than grapefruit and watch baseball other than the Grapefruit League. And then it snowed an inch or two this morning.

Farewell, Confusion In The Juice Aisle

About two months after it debuted, Tropicana's new design for its cartons of orange juice is no more, after the revamp created such an uproar among consumers that the executives at Pepsi Co., Tropicana's parent, canceled it. Seriously.

Now, I faintly sympathize with all of the scorned juice-drinkers. The carton's old design, of a plump orange with a big straw stuck in it, suggested Tropicana is a company whose foremost concern is taste. "We're in the business of oranges," it says. "Our juice tastes like oranges and nothing else." The new one has a tall, shapely glass filled with juice, set against a minimalist background that is more negative space than anything else. There is a post-yuppie modernism to it that says, "Hey, early 30-something who buys juice at Whole Foods. You know, you can be just as fashionable by drinking Tropicana." The change exudes a certain amount of scorn toward Tropicana's longtime buyers.

However, is this really worth the effort of complaining "about the makeover in letters, e-mail messages and telephone calls and clamored for a return of the original look," as Stuart Elliott writes in the Times? (In fact, this switch received a ridiculous amount of press coverage; type "Tropicana cartons" into Google to find out.) Whatever happened to the idea of voting with your dollars? If any part of a consumer product offends you, spend your money elsewhere. Frankly, it's ridiculous that someone would find the packaging so offensive that he couldn't consume the product. Unless the packaging is racist, sexist or otherwise offensive (and, really, what are the odds of that?), if the product is tasty, enjoyable or somehow improves your day, who cares what it comes in?

I don't mean to single out David Wertheimer, but his blog entry complaining about the redesign is the first I found. To write, as Mr. Wertheimer does, that "the new packaging made it hard for me to buy it," (italics his) is embarrassing. The design doesn't define who you are, sir. That this created such a blogstorm and that Tropicana drinkers have such a "deep emotional bond" with the juice's look that its executives have to respond to it says something peculiar about the early-21st century. If the problem is with the juice's quality, I very much understand. But, remember, this displeasure emanates from the look.

Actually, I liked the new design -- it was simple and elegant, as juice cartons go -- even though the reflection of the juice in the glass created a small blotch of orange in a lower corner that I always mistook for a small leak in the carton. (See if you can notice it in the above photo.) I think I asked my girlfriend five consecutive weeks in the supermarket to touch the carton's bottom to see if it was sticky and would make our refrigerator messy.

Update: As a side note, it's mildly ironic that Tropicana's reversion was driven by the Internet's derision of the new design and yet, the company's Web site, still touts the "fresh" new look.

Has Anyone Ever Seen Tunde Adebimpe And Justin Vernon In The Same Room Together?

Every time I hear a Bon Iver song on the radio, I'm always tricked into thinking it's a new TV on the Radio song. I get excited thinking it is, because it would be a great artistic move for them, or at least their lead singer, Tunde Adebimpe, to release a side project of slow, emotional, buzzing folk songs. It would be unexpected, undoubtedly well composed and prove that those guys can do anything they want. So I listen until the the DJ returns to recite the recent songs and, yup, it's always Justin Vernon, the given name of Bon Iver. Not that this is very disappointing -- the song is still a good song -- but it's mildly disappointing.

Adebimpe's and Vernon's voices are so similar, it's remarkable. They're so similar that I'm starting to think they're the same person, or maybe Adebimpe is Bon Iver and Vernon is TV on the Radio's lead singer? Does anyone have proof that these are two distinct people singing in two distinct bands? I've yet to see any.

Here are videos from each band to compound the ruse: