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If the rumored Netflix–Paramount jockeying around Warner Bros. assets feels confusing, that’s because it is. Not just financially or strategically, but narratively. Right now, it isn’t a clean “who’s buying whom” story. It’s a public drip of leaks, denials, anonymous sourcing, market jitters, and, somehow, hacked X accounts muddying the already unclear waters.

This is the danger zone for corporate PR.

When a potential bidding war goes public before leadership is ready to speak clearly, the vacuum fills fast. Analysts speculate. Reporters triangulate. Twitter detectives do what they do best. And suddenly the conversation shifts from strategy and scale to chaos and credibility.

The biggest miss here isn’t secrecy, it’s lack of message discipline. If you know your company is circling a deal this big, you don’t just prep bankers and lawyers. You prep comms. You align on what can be said, what won’t be said, and what narrative you’ll reinforce no matter how loud the noise gets.

Instead, we’ve seen inconsistent signals: strategic ambiguity that reads less like “careful positioning” and more like “no one’s driving.” Add in an apparent X hack (or at least hack-adjacent confusion), and the optics get worse. Fair or not, security lapses – even social media ones – raise uncomfortable questions when billions and IP empires are at stake.

The smarter play? Fewer leaks, clearer guardrails, and one calm, authoritative voice reinforcing the same themes: long-term value, disciplined growth, and respect for regulatory process. You don’t need to confirm a deal to control a narrative – but you do need to show you’re in control.

Because when the deal becomes the story, PR isn’t a side function. It’s the stabilizer. And right now, the market can tell when it’s missing.

This time last year, I woke up to an early Christmas present. Tortoise Media had bought The Observer.

For those not steeped in UK media minutiae, here’s the gist. Tortoise is a relatively young outlet built explicitly around slow journalism – fewer stories, more context, less obsession with being first. The Observer, meanwhile, is one of the world’s oldest Sunday newspapers. Seeing the two come together felt symbolic, a signal of real confidence in a deeper style of storytelling.

Slow journalism, at its simplest, is about resisting the churn that has metastasized across the media landscape over the last two decades. Heading into 2026, I’m convinced we’ll see increasing demand for that more ponderous approach. Here's why.

Audience fatigue is real. I don’t know many people who feel better informed after scrolling online. Bite-sized information is important in time-strapped scenarios – but too often it feels like that is all that’s on offer. Small wonder there are rising levels of news avoidance, particularly among younger readers. Slow journalism offers an antidote: fewer stories, but ones worth your attention. 

Trust is becoming the most valuable currency in media. That’s the view of Sarah Ebner, Financial Times executive editor, and I agree. AI-generated content, misinformation, and an increasing “hot take” culture is undermining credible journalism. Outlets that say “we took our time with this” (and mean it) resonate with me, and I’m not alone. Slow journalism is as much about credibility as it is about pace.

The business model increasingly supports it. Subscription-led media doesn’t need to publish 40 stories a day. It just needs to publish the right ones. That feels especially relevant amid sweeping industry cutbacks and closures. Look at Delayed Gratification magazine – almost 15 years in, advertising-free, and still sustained by readers who are happy to pay for journalism that respects their time and intelligence.

What does this mean for PR professionals?

Put simply, slow journalism rewards substance. Press releases chasing quick hits matter far less in this space than expertise, access, and ideas that hold up under scrutiny. PRs who understand this – and who can offer slow journalists real insight and meaningful access – are the ones most likely to land the deeper coverage they crave.

Here’s to a slower new year!

- Alasdair Lane

Those aren’t reindeer you hear – it’s the Budweiser Clydesdales clomping down the lane. 

As symbolic of the holiday season as Frosty the Snowman and Coca-Cola’s polar bears, these statuesque steeds became part of the Anheuser-Busch family in 1933 to celebrate the repeal of Prohibition. It may seem like the rest is history, but it takes more than a horse whisperer for even a brand as storied as Budweiser to have such a lasting branding legacy.

Budweiser found a natural fit for the Clydesdales in their branding. They first appeared in a 1975 Super Bowl commercial, adding a unique equine element to the logical match of beer and football. As any child can tell you, sleigh rides and Christmas go together just as well, and the horses trotted into the holidays in 1986. 

It’s around that year that Budweiser is harkening back to this season with its limited edition holiday beer can and merch release, depicting the legendary horses on collectible items from beer steins to ball caps. Modern trends can pass in a TikTok minute, but retro kitsch is in right now. From the Stranger Things-inspired resurgence of ‘80s fashion to Taco Bell’s recent Y2K-fueled menu, nostalgia is selling. 

But such nostalgia wouldn’t occur without emotional resonance. The Clydesdales touch the “horse girl” inside all of us; they represent the magic of the holidays in a solid yet sentimental way – I’ll be the first to admit that a Budweiser horse commercial has made me misty eyed. They are majestic! Watching them doesn’t feel like seeing an advertisement, it feels like witnessing a beautiful, real-life slice of the season.

At a time when Coca-Cola’s polar bears are being scrutinized as less like warm, fuzzy animals and more like AI-generated monstrosities, the Budweiser Clydesdales are standing tall in their well-earned place of marketing history.

- Meredith Hirt

Who's going where and why it matters. Not just job shifts - power dynamics, layoffs, and who's headed out. 

🧳 Kate Clark started at The Wall Street Journal covering startups, venture capital, AI, and more; previously senior reporter at The Information focusing on tech deals and founders.

🧳 Kim Bhasin joined The New York Times as retail correspondent, covering brands, retailers, consumers, and economic forces; previously at Bloomberg News/Businessweek for nearly 11 years on fashion, luxury, sportswear, and celebrities.

🧳 Alyssa Katz, executive editor at nonprofit NYC newsroom The City, will join The Forward as Editor-in-Chief in January 2026; award-winning journalist and author of books on corporate influence and real estate.

The New York Times announced the evolution of its National desk with new leadership and team structure, including Stephen Merelman joining; focused on breaking major national stories like disasters and events.

Axios CEO Jim VandeHei declared the U.S. in a "post-news era" where individual realities are shaped by social media, podcasts, and videos rather than traditional news; Axios will focus on useful, trusted info amid AI disruption and political shifts.

🧳 Stefan Schubert launched The Update, a new Substack newsletter with a Keynes-inspired motto: "When the facts change, I change my mind."

💔 Bill Grueskin bid farewell as columnist for Columbia Journalism Review's Laurels and Darts after relaunching the feature; Susie Banikarim takes over in January.

Feedback? Comments? Something else on your mind? Say hello. 

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