A recent episode of the For Immediate Release podcast — I believe it was show 486 — included a discussion about worms on Twitter and the connection with the (in)security of shortened URLs shared online. As FIR co-host Shel Holtz alluded to, even if you trust the sender or sharer of a shortened URL, those links — which mask the destination with a simpler, shorter tinyurl.com or bit.ly address — are fraught with danger. Or, at least, potential danger.

This is something I’ve discussed more than once with my friend and local code wizard Garrick Van Buren. He’s built his own URL shortener, grv.me, that he uses to share stuff he creates. He’s done the same for MinnPost.com with its minnpo.st URL shortener, which the local news outfit uses to share its own stories on Twitter and the like.

Why? Trust. When you see a TinyURL, you have no idea what the link is going to point you to. Viruses, spyware, porn and all sorts of other unwanted or inappropriate stuff are just a click away. Sure, there are some tricks to help alleviate that problem, but what if you actually could trust a shortened URL?

That’s there grv.me and minnpo.st come in. Once you’re familiar with them — once their respective publishers introduce you to them — you can trust them as much as you trust their publishers. Because you know only Garrick can create grv.me URLs, there’s no virus at the other end. Coke, a client of ours, also created its own URL shortener — with trust being one factor and, I’m sure, the desire to control the technology rather than rely on someone else’s as another factor. (though we had nothing to do with the creation of this tool).

The need for safety and security online will not go away. Don’t worry: Smart people like Garrick will be here to help.

Photo courtesy of zach_manchester on Flickr

Yes, rereading. Not solely for the content, which in large part is a deeper dive into many of the corporate case studies we new-media pundits are often already somewhat familiar with, but for the inspiration.

I happen to know many of the very smart people who contributed to and who are quoted in Julio’s book (bragging: I happen to be one of them), and I remember watching many of these case study scenarios unfold in real life — not knowing they’d be business-book material a few months later.

Some of these people I know very well. Albert Maruggi, who contributed the book’s afterword, is a dear friend and former colleague who lives about eight blocks away from me. Others, I know in that familiar but distant “we’ve met on Twitter” sense. I remember when Jennifer Leggio, who wrote the book’s forward, was asking for help on Twitter while setting up her first WordPress blog.

I remember reading the first TechCrunch post about Comcast and its use of Twitter as a customer service tool the day it was published and thinking, Man, I really dislike Comcast, but that’s awesome. Julio’s “book praise” page is a damn who’s-who of people I’ve befriended, attended conferences with, twittered at and otherwise bumped into — digitally or in the flesh. Hell, even Julio himself is a friend of mine and a person whose work I’ve followed for years.

Something about that closeness to my life, that proximity to what I live and breathe everyday, takes Julio’s book far beyond the realm of ideas. We’re now squarely in the realm of pure inspiration.

Rereading this book, though I’m only a few pages in, inspires me to try harder. To continue to try to new things. To pay more attention to my friends and the things going on around me. To keep my head up and watch for new opportunities rather than keep my head down and plow away at the same old work in the same old way.

Thanks, Julio — and thanks to everyone else who made this book happen.

Actual sub-head from same release: “Return to Start-Up Culture a Focus for Company Moving Forward”

“Return to start-up culture”? What does that mean? Well, beyond the fact that a few hundred people will lose their jobs, it means the folks responsible for this news release are either a bit delusional or not afraid of being laughed at. It couldn’t be easier to see right through this transparent bullshit.

No sane person believes MySpace wanted to can 30 percent of its staff. That MySpace actually thought it was desireable. Sure, you can put a little polish on that turd of a headline, but trying to turn into elective good news screams “BS.” Do you really think someone within the company decided, “Hey, this growth looks nice and all, but we’re a little bloated. What do you say we axe a third of you people to get back to our roots? Who’s with me?”

This writing is what critics of public relations professionals’ work refer to as “spin.” The fact that some PR pros seem to get away with over-the-line stuff like this reflects poorly on all of us. If you ever have a chance, do your best to stop this crap in its tracks.

Anyway, the reason I’m talking about this is because it’s probably going to affect what I do here. Not it a bad way — I’m not being censored for the sake of corporate politics or anything like that. It’s just that:

A) I’ve been busy as I work to get my legs under me at the new gig and

B) I’m excited about doing some writing for the agency’s own blog, which has some serious thematic overlap, if you will, with Unjournalism.

I have no intention of stopping writing here at Unjournalism — or anywhere else I write, for that matter. I do, however, have to put some good brain power into determining how I can best accommodate all of my online homes without too much overlap but still keeping each relevant and interesting.

In the meantime, there’s not a creature or employer alive who can stop me from Twittering, apparently, so you can get all the Mike you can handle over there.

So bear with me. I promise not to suck.

I’ve thought about this from time to time, most recently in the context of the story of Nadya Suleman, the mother of a rather notorious set of octuplets. Simply by nature of the rarity of her, uh, feat — having given birth to only the country’s second set of live octuplets — she was thrust into the public eye, though at first unnamed.

At that point, even before she was identified and before we heard rumors of a book deal or a (god, help us) reality television show, folks coast to coast (and beyond, I’m sure) were discussing the whys and hows of giving birth to eight little critters and, in many cases, passing judgment. How could she? Why would she? Should she? Is she, or will she be receiving some sort of welfare or other public assistance?

At some point along the way, Ms. Suleman picked up the services of a PR firm — pro bono. In a sick turn of events, those PR pros have stepped down after having reportedly received death threats. That’s terrible and unfortunate, and it reminds me of high-profile cases in which certain lawyers receive similar treatment. What did the PR folks do wrong? Isn’t it at least as likely, if not more so, that they’re trying to do some good than they’re simply being opportunistic? And even if you believe they’re a little attention-hungry or whatever, death threats?!

Not that PR people need any more comparisons to lawyers (see the joke Shel shares here), but Ms. Suleman’s story really has me thinking (so I can get on with the point of my post, now that I have the context out of the way): Most folks I know believe in the fundamental importance of adequate legal representation when on trial in a court of law. But what about when someone is thrust into a trial in the court of public opinion? Isn’t a person entitled to the services of someone who can help them in their time of need?

To be clear, when I say “entitled,” I don’t necessarily mean they should get it for free. I don’t foresee, desire or expect a “public reputation defender” who functions as the PR equivalent of the court-appointed public defender. I do, however, believe that having your side of the story heard is something to which you’re entitled, and sometimes that requires professional help.

Photo courtesy of mindgutter on Flickr

TwitterHawk monitors Twitter for messages that match your criteria — say, include the word coffee and come from someone in Minneapolis — and then automatically sends a message from your account to the coffee-mentioner. It’s nice in that it’s smart enough to monitor for more than keywords: TwitterHawk let’s you focus in directing messages at Twitterers from a certain location and even set a rate of messages to send per day (to help alleviate accusations of spamming).

But here’s my problem with it: Even if we grant that the basic, automated monitor-then-respond trick is OK, then what? Let’s look at TwitterHawk’s own example: If someone, within a few miles of your new coffee shop, tweets about coffee, TwitterHawk sees that and responds for you. Great. But in TwitterHawk’s own example, the responder-bot asks a question: “@coffeementioner Have you seen our new Coffee Shop in Queens?”

What if that coffee-tweet writes back to you after seeing the TwitterHawk message? Uh oh! Now you suddenly have to be a human who uses Twitter to actually, you know, talk to people. Why not just do that in the first place, then?! Not only is this likely simply because Twitterers are chatty, but you’re asking a question! That’s great when people are actually communicating with each other, but that’s asking for trouble if you’re relying on an automated system.

Here’s another thing: Unless the person TwitterHawk is talking to for you is already following your account — that is, unless @coffeementioner is already following @newcoffeeshop — it’s pretty unlikely @coffeementioner is going to see the message from @newcoffeeshop. Outside of the realm of Web-minded marketers, bloggers and other digital-egomaniacs, it’s pretty rare for people to be monitoring Twitter for mentions of their name.

And if @coffeementioner does see the message from @newcoffeeshop, it’s likely that she’s going to be curious about this new Twitterer talking to her, and she’s going to go check out @newcoffeeshop’s profile. When she sees the last several tweets from @coffeeshop and notices how many of them are the exact same “Have you seen our new shop?” message to other Twitterers, she’s going to see little value in making a connection with @newcoffeeshop.

So here, conveniently at the bottom of this longer-than-I-intended post, is the bottom line: If the monitoring and messaging done by TwitterHawk is going to have any non-spam value, it’s going to require the user to engage and make connections and be humanly present on Twitter anyway. Why not just start that way?

For the compete context for my writing here, you should check out Bob’s piece first.

1. Bob says public relations is inherently a business function at most organizations, especially when a PR head within an organization has obtained the proverbial “seat at the table” with other executive leaders. At the same time, much of the PR practitioner’s work is about communicating, which is not taught in management class. And doesn’t, um, everyone say the most important skill for budding PR pros is the ability to write well? Guess where you’ll learn that: J-school.
2. Bob’s second point is that “Journalism skills needed by public relations students can be obtained usually with about a year and half’s worth of journalism courses” — thus can be done regardless of whether PR falls under a journo department or a business department. I’d argue the same is true about the business classes. Whether we’re talking journalism education or business education, the classes only get you so far; experience takes you the rest of the way.
3. Bob argues that news reporters are “antagonistic” toward the things most important to a business: sales, marketing, advertising and other business functions. I’d argue that many journalism students and journalists aren’t; that’s why they’ve gone into PR!
4. PR is all about two-way, symmetrical communication, whereas journalists are conditioned for one-way, asymmetrical communication, Bob says. I say, not the journalists blazing a trail for success in the future.
5. Bob’s fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth and ninth points all address an hugely important topic, which I’ll address all at once here: the role of new media in journalism and PR. Basically, Bob says PR is (sometimes slowly) adopting new media, but new media is slowly killing the journalism business, and that good PR now focuses less on media mentions and more on direct communication via its own blogs and other new, social-y methods. To me, this alone makes the strongest argument for the importance of a journalistic education. The future of PR is a return to what should have always been our focus: telling stories effectively, communicating, interacting with people. It’s not a business function; it’s a human function.
6. Bob’s final point is a depressing one: Journalism businesses left and right are being gutted, so gutting journalism departments at colleges would be an “important career lesson.” Well, that lesson might be relevant for an unfortunately large number of current and future journalists, but to me, that doesn’t mean teaching that lesson in that way is a good idea. Even as the status of many journalism organizations deteriorates, we’ll see the need for and presence of solid journalism deteriorate only so far. Solid journalism is to a well-functioning society what oxygen is to an athlete: a crucial life-force. Gutting journalism departments because the journalism business is in upheaval makes as much sense as gutting pre-med programs because our health care system is shitty.

To be clear, I don’t necessarily disagree with all of the arguments Bob makes — just the conclusion to which they led him. I also don’t believe simply that PR shouldn’t be taught in business schools. There’s tremendous value for PR practitioners in a business-oriented education, but I also believe there’s at least as much if not more potential value in a journalism-oriented education.

That, and I just enjoy arguing.

What do you think?

Photo courtesy of CUNY J School on Flickr

For those unaware, when you’re buying ads online, especially with professional media outlets, they’ll basically sell you anything you can dream up. In this case, the “clean coal is a joke” camp bought ad space on the “page not found” pages on WashingtonPost.com.

You can click over to see it for yourself, but the text on the “not found” page reads: “This page does not exist. Kind of like clean coal.”

Some mostly uninteresting photos here. The event was held at Best Buy’s corporate headquarters just outside of Minneapolis. Sorry I didn’t have a tripod — or the chance to get better audio.