My father and I did do some things together, and one of them was model railroading. Historically, MIT's Tech Model Railroad Club in Building 20 was a crucible of the computing revolution, since it was one of the few places where MIT students could build and design electronic projects without having to turn in a lab report for it, but I was just a kid at that time: I liked the clickety-clackety sound from the heavy-metal American Flyer locomotives chuffing round the tinplate track; I liked the ozone smell from thrown switches; and my father and I liked to turn out the lights and see glowing red and green lights of the signals, the white lights of the engine headlamps, the warm yellow glow of the caboose--and the occasional sharp blue spark. Running "the trains" through their circular courses gave me (at least) a timeless, comforting feeling.

So, almost forty years on, I've come home to the model railroading magazines I read through my teens, and it's interesting to see what's changed:

WaPo's very well-paid Chris Cillizza has a post up in "The Fix" that perfectly encapsulates the high-school level vapidity and screaming self-contradiction of our famously free press's quest for the "authentic" Presidential candidate.

On the one hand, Richardson seems authentic:

We've said and written before that while no one in the presidential race can rival Gov. Bill Richardson's (N.M.) resume we remain skeptical about his chances of winning the nomination for a simple reason: his unpredictability. That trait makes covering Richardson a delight -- he is always ready with a witty one-liner and regularly treats reporters as though he's known them for decades. [Much good may that do him.]

OK, check. Richardson's not scripted. But on the other hand:

But, his tendency to veer off message is less appealing when it comes to the highly scrutinized atmosphere of a presidential campaign. Richardson is, frankly, too real.

So, we want Goldilocks reality now? Not too unreal, not too real, but, really, just right?

What do the press want? How on earth can they be satisfied? Wait... I know! What the press wants is scripted authenticity. Right? It reminds me of the old song by the Rutle's Neil Innes: