Here's the reply I sent to Micah Sifry last night in response to his letter responding to my post about his article. Confused yet? If you just got here, you may need to read backwards a bit to grasp what's going on here. On the other hand, I often find mental confusion quite refreshing after a long day of hyper-rationality. If you're at all like me in this respect, just jump in wherever. btw, the title slug should be taken as no slur on my bosom buddy (he'll laugh) Doc Searls, who originally came up with the cluetrain thesis "markets are conversations." This has always bothered me because of the (perhaps unconscious) tendency some folks may have to reverse it and think: conversations are markets. This is ever so wrong, as some of us have discovered through brutal experience. "OK then, dammit, if you stay, I'll put out the trash." Somehow, such bargaining never quite reaches to the heart of the matter. I'm not sure if these reflections are entirely apposite here, but I've been thinking about this whole cluetrain conversation thing for about five years now, and I thought it was maybe time to say something.

But forget all that. Here's the letter I sent Micah -- verbatim except for a few (I can never resist) hyperlinks and graphical embellishments.

Dear Micah,

What a cordial note after my taking you so dreadfully to task. Thank you. You know, I figured it was a copy editor looking out the window at some passing lass. Or laddie. But I leaned on the point because Cluetrain was always careful not to lend itself to political issues, or religious, or pick-yer-ellipsis. And believe me, we were asked by every stripe of ideology and idolatry for endorsement of each's particular pet thing. We all felt that such alliances would weaken our core argument. Which, as some Amazon reviewers helpfully pointed out, we repeated about 6,000 times. So much time has passed since then, I forget now precisely what it was.

Anyway: Ich bin unpolitisch. Sort of. If pressed, I guess I'd say I'm more for casting Molotov cocktails than votes -- but only because it's a halfway decent line and I take my poetic license seriously. (Perhaps because getting my learner's permit was such a bitch.)

I feel worst about my slur on your use of "paradigm shift." A low blow, I admit. However, where I come from, that's an actionable offense. And I don't mean "actionable" the way CEOs say that. "We need an actionable business plan." Looks like ever since Enron, they've been getting their wish.

But dude, even T.S. Kuhn stopped saying "paradigm shift" -- and he invented the phrase. Sorry, but you owe me 50 bucks. Lucky for you it's a first infraction. Far as I know...

More seriously, I think it worth pushing back on the Negropontean notion that being "wired" makes us some sort of privileged elite. Well... actually, it makes too many of us suspect we are just that; and that's the problem. Having cable or DSL or whatever fat bandwidth and however killer Javascript skilz, makes us no different from 10,000 pornographers and Google only knows how many Aryan Nation sites. I know I'll be reviled for saying this, yea verily, but I dunno... I think I'd rather take my chances with a barroom full of Aryan Brothers than with a standards-committee style of governance enforced by The Dotters of the American Slash. (I'm keeping this in secret code to cut down on the flame mail.)

So now we are all  online, or soon will be, and the only solution I can see is the unthinkable. We are going to have to talk, not just among ourselves, but to each other. Politics, if I may offer an observation, and if the past lends any clue, is the art of doing everything but that.

Worse (in an ongoing series of unfortunate realities), before we can talk, we're going to need something to say. And somehow, affirming our hardcore digitalness doesn't strike me as the optimal opener. "Hello," on the other hand, might be a good start.

I make these remarks, which I hope you will post along with your friendly letter, in an equally friendly spirit of universal surrealism. That is to say: this --> | <-- is not a pipe.

very best

chris

cc: David Weinberger, Doc Searls and Rick Levine, my erstwhile partners in crime, any or all of whom are welcome (but of course) to refute anything Royal-We-ish I may have said above with respect to the cluetrain manifesto in any of its manifestotions[sic]. [semper tyranis, RB.]

On his blog, Micah Sifry replied to what I wrote in the previous post about his article on The Rise of Open-Source Politics. I reproduce his generous letter here in full, both for the sake of continuity, and to address the point raised in his second sentence. In the next post, I'll publish my reply.

Open letter to Christopher Locke

Dear Christopher Locke:

Always a thrill to hear from an author you admire. I would have posted this as a comment on your blog, but I don't see a way to post comments. A few corrections are in order:

You are right, the quote of you from Cluetrain stops at the line "...And it hasn't been coming from corporations." I added the next sentence, "Nor has it been coming from politicians, not until recently." When The Nation published my article, back in November, they created the error and never corrected it. I noticed it when I read it print, but forgot to tell them. My bad.

Now Alternet.org has reprinted the piece, and repeated the error. Just so you know, I didn't post the piece on Alternet--I had no idea they were going to reprint it. Had I known, I could have asked them to fix the attribution. Now that you've re-brought this to my attention, I'm going to ask them, and the Nation, to at least fix the mistake on their websites. Maybe I can get the Nation to run a correction in their print edition too. I don't know. I don't work there (just in case there's any confusion--I haven't worked there since 1997).

As for the larger argument you make, that "being digital" isn't going to change anything, well, maybe not, maybe so. These things are just tools--it still comes down to human agency and what we decide to do with the tools at hand. I do think something fundamental in how we get to participate in the decisions that affect our lives (aka politics) is changing, which is why I wrote the Personal Democracy Forum's manifesto. And it's why I'm spending a good deal of my time on that project now.

Cheers,

Micah

Today on Alternet.org, Micah L. Sifry (of The Nation) posted a rather lengthy piece titled The Rise of Open-Source Politics. It opens...

Whether you're a Democrat in mourning or a Republican in glee, the results from election day should not obscure an important shift in America's civic life. New tools and practices born on the internet have reached critical mass, enabling ordinary people to participate in processes that used to be closed to them.

As he discloses about a third of the way through the article, author Michael L. is the brother of Technorati founder David Sifry. So if you didn't get it from the article's title, at this point you know this screed isn't going to be another hack on the Evil Blog Empire -- despite all my personal efforts to create one. One such effort is referred to in the Alternet piece...

But it isn't the quantity of interactions taking place that suggests the change under way; it is the quality of those conversations. If, as a New Yorker cartoon put it, "On the internet, no one knows if you're a dog," on the internet, no one likes it if you don't speak in a genuine human voice. Says Christopher Locke, one of the co-authors of The Cluetrain Manifesto, a bible of sorts for business people trying to understand how the internet is changing commerce:

Compared to this kind of personal, intimate, knowledgeable and highly engaged voice ... top-down corporate communications come across as stale and stentorian -- the boring, authoritarian voice of command and control. The glaring difference between these styles is the strange attractor that has brought tens of millions flocking to the internet. There's new life passing along the wires. And it hasn't been coming from corporations. Nor has it been coming from politicians, not until recently.

The way the piece is laid out, it seems I wrote that whole paragraph in Cluetrain. But the quote from the book ends: "...and it isn't coming from corporations." (See for yourself.) The last sentence about politicians -- for the whole lot of whom I give not the proverbial fig -- was added by Mr. Sifry or an intervening editor. Being generous, perhaps someone forgot to add a <p> tag. Being less generous, I don't like having words put in my mouth. While I appreciate being quoted, I appreciate even more (dare I say it?) the kind of journalistic attention to detail that takes care about quotation marks and that important little matter of correct attribution.

Sure, I've been misquoted in the mainstream press. Many times. Usually it was just sloppy notetaking or terminal idiocy. Understandable in today's hectic gene pool. Here though, I feel I'm being enlisted in support of something I never signed up for.

My Cluetrain co-author, David Weinberger, did sign up -- to work with the Dean campaign. He was also a vocal supporter of John Kerry, campaigning for that candidate whether officially or ad-hoc-en-blog. Good for him. I like David and appreciate his views. He certainly knows more about politics than I. Were it up to me, and thank your lucky charms it isn't, we might all be living under the leadership of President Hunter S. Thompson and Vice President Madame Levy. Now that  would be a bottom-up grassroots ticket I might vote for.

Sifry sub-heads one section of his piece, "The Emerging Internet Majority," which he believes with characteristic fervor ("a paradigm shift" he says) will make it all better, or at least all different. I'm sure. But there is, it seems to me, a glaring assumption in this, not even modestly veiled, that "we internetters" (my phrase, my quotes) constitute some sort of roughly unified coalition bent on doing something or other. And nothing could be further from the truth. Having an internet connection once defined an emerging band of unruly freaks -- I proudly among them. Today being online is one step above having indoor plumbing. Does the fact that so many of us have running water bode good or ill for the body politic? OK, make the criteria a bit (pun intended) more information-based. Is there a powerful moral force of telephone dialers? Of electrical-appliance pluggers-in? Does Being Digital really say that much about who or what we are? Does it in fact -- after all the street-cred advertising pages have been sold -- say anything?

There are many highly non-unified factions on the net I would not want to spend time with, much less be governed by. That they are speaking with their "genuine voices" -- whatever that means; I could never quite figure out who decides the definition of genuine -- is a good thing, I suppose, in general terms, for a self-styled democracy like ours. It creates the necessary cacophony and confusion that allows deep-pocketed oligarchs to run things out of view, while at the same time appearing to support something sorta kinda like freedom of the press. Blogs originally messed up this equation, but they've been brought into line by the tried and true methods of co-option. A certain class of bloggers ran, did not walk, into the arms of Big Government, Big Media and Bigger Higher Education as soon as the chance presented itself. Now their voices, leaving the thorny issue of genuineness aside, sound like those of Beltway lobbyists, over-puffed pundits and professorial fools of the sort I never did manage to suffer gladly. You know who you are. And so do we.

Am I alone in thinking these awful thoughts? Doesn't seem so. Consistency being the hobgoblin of small minds (as Emerson tells us), let me enlist a voice speaking from the heart of the Big Media beast itself...

It was a cool idea, a fresh kind of media democracy for a new-media world. Thanks to the miracle of blogging technology, any smart kid in Boise or Brooklyn could set up his own Web site and weigh in on everything from regime change in Iraq to snarky book reviews. ... [yada-yada] ... Part reporter, part gadfly, part cheeky upstart, bloggers seemed to scorn the insider mentality of brand-name pundits, and they were often a lot more fun to read -- and more insightful.

Note the past tense. A year ago, I barely knew what blogs were. Within a few months, they'd become a staple of my daily media diet. Now I can't live without them, but already I'm feeling betrayed -- and a little bored.

What began as the ultimate outsider activity -- a way to break the newspaper and TV stranglehold on the gathering and dissemination of information -- is turning into the same insider's game played by the old establishment media the bloggerati love to critique. The more blogs you read and the more often you read them, the more obvious it is: They've fallen in love with themselves, each other and the beauty of what they're creating. The cult of media celebrity hasn't been broken by the Internet's democratic tendencies; it's just found new enabling technology.

from: It's a Little Too Cozy in the Blogosphere by Jennifer Howard
source: The Washington Post, 16 November 2003
via: HighBeam Research

Look, I didn't feel this rant coming on. Maybe it's a gene-trigger thing. But it did creep up and take ahold of my unwitting brain. So here you have it. But all this barking barked, do read Micah Sifry's whole article, as I'm sure there's a lot my high blood pressure caused me to miss. Especially the good words of David Weinberger and Dan Gillmor, who certainly know more about politics and press than I ever will. God willing.

Oh, and I want to say, finally, what a big fan of Technorati I am. In fact, as soon as I post this, I plan to ping the site in hopes of a billion hits in better newsreaders everywhere. Send pageviews! Send circ! Visions of sugarplums I already got.

I'm sitting in some cheap-ass hotel in Louisville, Colorado, this morning after playing junior sysadmin-cum-clueless-newbie with an exceptionally helpful hotel clerk who managed to get the super-easy free ethernet / internet connection working after only an hour and a half and 13 calls to the service provider between 3:30 and 5am. Other than that, don't ask.

Thanks.

And of course, while waiting for various callbacks, I turn on CNN. I haven't had cable -- that is to say any sort of television -- for over four years now, so even the ads are exciting for about the first ten minutes. I want to make it clear that the no-TV decision wasn't made from any strongly held ideological perspective. No, it was simple laziness. I forgot to call the cable company in 2000, and by the time I noticed that I no longer had any idea what was happening in our great Republic, well... I was too broke to afford it.

As expat@large points out, this later slide into the lower depths of perilous penury cast certain doubts on my vaunted business savvy. Adding insult to injury, he writes:

Now he is Blogging For Cash over at Chief Blogging Officer dot com for a company that sells access to on-line research materials. Consistent with his noted business acumen, he joined this enterprise several days before Google announced it was going to put the American Library of Congress online.

Yeah, hah-ha, very funny Mr. Large. Be forewarned, sir, that I won't soon forget this gratuitous bit of frippery. Expect, at the very least, a rain of Singaporean frogs. Or perhaps some bit of nasty bio-fluvia in your Slurpee. I have contacts all over the world. I have my ways.

But where was I? Oh yes, TV. CNN. The wonders of current events. Now you could argue that, in The Age of The Internet, not having TV is no biggie. I still have access to a bajillion newspaper sites, I have email lists and newsreader feeds coming out my ears. Yes, I know, but I never look at any of those. Rate me a Bad Citizen, but I'm just not all that interested in what's new. Thanks to the likes of Baba Ram Dass and Eckhart Tolle (oh right, I'm sure those are their real names), I'm just not all that interested in Being Here Now. Call it a quirk.

However, I am increasingly interested in Being There Then. So when I learned from CNN at 3:30 this morning that there was going to be some sort of parade in Washington DC today (I think it's today; I was only half listening), well pardner, I wanted to get some historical perspective on these kinds of things. Had there been other similar parades in the past? Thanks to the power of HighBeam Research, I immediately learned that there had indeed been others of this type. Every four years, as it turns out!

Describing the last such, The Wisconsin State Journal begins its coverage by noting, "This isn't his Daddy's parade."

The newly sworn President Bush will have all the traditional military bands playing "Hail to the Chief" and plenty of floats exhibiting patriotic themes, but the inaugural parade of the second Bush presidency [the first having been Dad's] may be most remembered for some, shall we say, eccentric performances....

One of the odder tributes will come from the Precision Lawn Chair Demonstration Team, a group of 13 buddies from Colorado who flip and fold aluminum lawn chairs in time to militaristic chants such as, "I got myself a new beach chair. This is where I park my derriere."

The group espouses no political beliefs, and lobbies only for lawn chair safety. The guys also note proudly that they are the only group chosen to represent Colorado in the parade.

from: Nothing Says Inauguration Like Synchronized Lawn-Chair Folding Along With Traditional Military Bands, Bush's Inaugural Parade Will Feature The Eccentric by Brigitte Greenberg, Associated Press
source: Wisconsin State Journal, 16 January 2001
via: HighBeam Research

Imagine how my heart swelled with pride to know that my own migrant-knowledge- worker-adopted state of Colorado had played such a crucial role in the installation (insert Tab A into Slot B) of an American president. M-a-a-a-a-n, that does it. When I get home, I'm calling my local cable company and getting online with this whole TV thing. I can't believe what I've been missing.

a photo essay of sorts -- draw your own conclusions

In 2001, The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression won the National Book Award. Here are author Andrew Solomon's opening lines:

Depression is the flaw in love. To be creatures who love, we must be creatures who can despair at what we lose, and depression is the mechanism of that despair. When it comes, it degrades one's self and ultimately eclipses the capacity to give or receive affection. It is the aloneness within us made manifest, and it destroys not only connection to other but also the ability to be peacefully alone with oneself. Love, though it is no prophylactic against depression, is what cushions the mind and protects it from itself. Medications and psychotherapy can renew that protection, making it easier to to love and be loved., and that is why they work.

I was starting to read this book review when these words stopped me cold. Boy interrupted.

Over the course of this book we certainly learn much about Andrew Solomon. He is independently wealthy -- his father directs a profitable pharmaceutical company that produces, mirabile dictu, an anti-depressant.

from: Romancing depression - a review of The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression by Paul R. McHugh
source: Commentary, 1 December 2001
via: HighBeam Research
Copyright © 2001 American Jewish Committee

So off I go to search up some background on Solomon's dad's company, which turns out to be Forest Laboratories, makers of the Celexa and Lexapro SSRI antidepressants. What better source than Business Week to get a feel for... well, let's say the economic impact of a National Book Award.

Today Forest Labs is a dramatically different company from what it was eight years ago. Its antidepressant, Celexa, is the fastest-growing of its class of drugs, which includes Prozac, Paxil, and Zoloft; its share of new prescriptions is 17.5%. Since its U.S. launch in September, 1998, Celexa has come to account for almost 70% of Forest's overall sales--about $1.6 billion in the fiscal year that ended on Mar. 31. That's more than five times the level before Celexa was introduced. Profits have grown from about $37 million in 1998 to $338 million last year. Forest's share price has quadrupled in that time, from $20 to nearly $80. This year, the company ranks 18th on the BusinessWeek 50 list of top-performing businesses in the Standard & Poor's 500. And Solomon turned out to be the third-highest-paid U.S. executive in 2001 in BusinessWeek's annual survey, largely because he cashed in stock options worth some $147 million.

from: A CEO AND HIS SON (cover story) by Susan Berfield
source: Business Week, 27 May 27 2002
via: HighBeam Research

The following is from the 2004 Forest Labs Letter to Our Stockholders by Howard Solomon, Chairman and CEO.

Regarding our antidepressant franchise, there are now more new prescriptions written for Lexapro than for any other antidepressant, except for one, and based on existing trends, we expect that during this fiscal year, Lexapro may become the leader in new prescriptions. And that means within some months thereafter Lexapro may become the leader in total prescriptions.

	"My book is about depression. It is about the difficulties of enduring and living with depression and it's also about things that counteract depression. I would now recommend to all of my readers winning the National Book Award as an extremely efficacious antidepressant." Andrew Solomon accepting the 2001 National Book Award for nonfiction.
F O R E S T   L A B O R A T O R I E S   E A R N I N G S "well, I've got to run to keep from hiding, and I'm bound to keep on riding. and I've got one more silver dollar... but I'm not gonna let 'em catch me, no, not gonna let 'em catch the Midnight Rider." ~ Allman Brothers ~

... meets The Crying of Lot 49

If you think it's a walk in the park writing one of these damn things every freaking day -- or, well, almost every freaking day -- guess again. Take today for instance. Please.

I woke up at 3am with this song going through my head. And right away, I knew I had to blog it. How did I know this? Search me. It's one of those things that comes with long practice. Tacit knowledge, it's sometimes called. Yeah... that's it... tacit knowledge...

But then I wondered whether it was, you know, maybe anti-semitic or something. I've been reading tons about anti-semitism, from the earliest centuries C.E. through the Holocaust to today's charming neo-Nazi white supremists (quite a few of whom are currently writing book reviews on Amazon, but that's a story for another time perhaps [click here for a clue, if you really want one]). All this is research for my mythical book about the deep historical roots of the not-so-new New Age. But this isn't about that.

It's just that I've been sort of sensitized by all this reading -- I would say that my "consciousness" had been raised, were that not so ludicrous on its face -- so I wondered whether the song going through my head in the middle of the night might not be some throwback racist thing, you know, like Aunt Jemima syrup on Uncle Ben's rice. Not that anyone would actually eat  that, but I hope you're catching my general drift here. Lordy, but I do digress!

So I thought I should do some background checking on this song, but my first problem was I always thought is was John Jacob Jickleheimer  Smith. Don't ask me why. One of those childhood mishearings of the "Lead us not into Penn Station" variety. And maybe my concern (though again don't ask me why) was that Jickleheimer sounded, well... Put it this way. The song is clearly about a guy with a so-called "split personality" -- what psychiatry refers to today as Dissociative Identity Disorder. Of course, I didn't know any of this when I learned the song in Kindergarten, which is probably why I didn't realize it was funny. Just another dumbass teacher, I figured, making me sing another dumbass song. But with the benefit of (oh-too-considerable) hindsight, I think today: so here we have the whitebread outer man, John Smith, discovering his "Inner Jew," Jacob Jickleheimer. After all, "Ring Around the Rosie" is about the Black Death or somesuch ("ashes, ashes, all fall down"), so is my theory really all that far-fetched?

Yes. Of course it is. But let us not be deterred by the obvious.

However, the real problem, as it transpired, was not so much the Jickleheimer misapprehension -- it's actually Jingleheimer, which sounds much more harmlessly (???) Disneyesque -- but rather, the guy's last  name. Google reports 7,170 hits for John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt, but 11,400 for John Jacob Jingleheimer Smith. Now, whether Smith or Schmidt, that's a fair number of hits. Plus, no less an authority than E.D. Hirsh, Jr., author of the (once hugely controversial but now mind-numbingly mundane) Dictionary of Cultural Literacy reproduces the ditty in the so-called "Core Knowledge Series" title What Your Kindergartner Needs to Know: Preparing Your Child for a Lifetime of Learning.

With all this as backup, I figured I was on pretty safe ground. But of course, what investigation would be complete without a check of the far-famed HighBeam Research databases? So naturally, I checked.

John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt: A traditional nonsense song popular especially in children's summer camps.

John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt,
That's my name too.
Whenever we go out, the people always shout,
"There goes John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt!"

Copyright © 1994 by Tad Tuleja, The Stonesong Press, Inc.

from: "John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt" by Tad Tuleja
source: The New York Public Library Book of Popular Americana, 1 January 1994
via: HighBeam Research
Copyright © 1994 The New York Public Library

Aside from -- valuably -- learning that the author of the song I thought went back at least to the Middle Ages is actually a man named Tad Tuleja, I had one minor problem with this citation. We always sang "His name is my name too" rather than "That's my name too," as Mr. Tuleja and the NY Public Library seem to think. I would argue that the former scansion is far more metrical than the abbreviated form. But why quibble?

And then there was this weird contest in The Washington Post (of all places) in which readers were evidently asked to fracture well known ditties for the general merriment of other readers. The winner of this match of wits was one Joseph Romm, from Washington (whether D.C. or the one on the other coast is not specified)...

John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt
His name is my name, too!
But he doesn't know
I'm making lots of dough
Stealing the identity of John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.

from: The Style Invitational; Week 586: God's Will (and Won't)
source: The Washington Post, 28 November 2004
via: HighBeam Research

I've included the full citation, as I strongly encourage you to go read the entire article -- which, by our current terms of engagement, so to speak, you may access in toto (for zippo) for up to seven days from the date of this post -- because I didn't think Mr. Romm's rhyme was the best at all. Nothing against the man, you understand, but I did think there were better ones, not necessarily including the following by Brendan Beary of Great Mills (wherever in god's world or hell's half acre that may be):

Ding dong bell,
Someone's in the well.
But it's a family paper,
So her name I cannot tell.

Again, I want to emphasize -- with ill-concealed delight -- that this material comes from The Washington Post, which moreover, despite   the "family paper" disclaimer, above, prints this entry from Scott Campisi (whereabouts unknown)...

I'm a little G-spot, short and stout.
Where am I hiding? Come find out.
When I get all steamed up hear her shout:
Find me now or just get out!

It's now only 7:30am -- yes, these things do take that long to compose -- and already, as you can see, it's been that kind of day. But behind every dark cloud there's a silver lining. So I've heard tell, at any rate. And now I'm a believer too. Let me explain. Sort of. Every once in a blue moon, a google search will hit seriously  serendipitous pay-dirt. The moon must have been blue last night, because the following is what I found at the end of this rather twisted trail. You may think I've finally gone round the bend (which could be true; I wonder myself most days) and that I have here lit out on a tangent that could be called "freely associative" at best. But in that surmise you would be mistaken, gentle reader. So keep your shirt on. I will reveal just how I found this juicy tidbit in the final line of this post. If you've been paying even marginal attention, it should all come together for you then.

Ready? OK, buckle up...

Don't you believe Dora for one second. That isn't even 3/64ths! This is from a page titled Have You Been Financially Raped By Landover Baptist Church? Please understand: I am only acting as an intermediary here. I'm just the messenger, OK? So if you're a God-fearing individual, please put the gun away. Good. That's better.

It took me longer than usual (I argue the lateness of the hour, or its earliness) to realize this was parody. There were clues along the way to be sure -- pitchforks, Scientologists, the shoe department at Barneys -- but I guess it wasn't until I hit this bit that it fully sank in...

Please pray for my safety and that my condo turns out as nice as the renderings.

Trust me, if you're at all warped, you need to spend some quality time with Dora. Among the DO NOT MISS elements of the site are the postings by the dreadfully reviled "Mrs. Betty Bowers, America's Best Christian," Dora's reply to that ("Betty: Your words are like so much dog poopy under my sandals! You are such a showboating b-i-t-c-h"), and finally (thank you for your patience)...

Subject: Dora, hon, Landover Baptist cast me away without a second thought.

Signed: Formerly known as Brother John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt

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