The reporter isn't and should almost never be the story. Or try hard not to be, no matter how much "personal brand" work our social media experts tell us is essential to survive the tornado of change that's tearing up our old ideas.

Most journalists know someone who knows someone they could contact if they wanted to hack into phones. I've never hired a hack to hack. But in the British tabloid world, competition for scandalous scoops is much more cutthroat than it is here.

Valentine's Day came early last week for flesh-and-blood reporters from U.S. networks, who flung themselves into the joyous mosh pit, soaking in the love like a kindergartner who gets the most V-Day cards in his class.

If we're going to stand on journalistic principle in refusing to take down stories, we need at least to acknowledge the collateral damage of doing what's right.

The more the WikiLeaks info is made public, the more people absorb it into their understanding of how things works. And the less power it will have. The back fence chatter and double-dealing will go on as it always has.

It's no surprise that we've come to this: there's a family for sale on the Internet. No, these aren't hostages held by Somali pirates. I'm talking about a middle American family.

Admitting that there's a white reporter's burden in writing about Africa is among the braver things Kristof has done.

Many entrepreneurs are social media savvy, but they're afraid "they won't be able to make conversation with the experts that attend these events" who may help their businesses the most.