What an almighty pother we have been enduring lately, about that entire field of human thought and interest called “journalism”, broadly interpreted. To use a term attributed to that great character lately departed, Margaret Whitlam, I never saw such a “hoo-hah” in my life. What ever is going on? Sometimes it seems that “journalism” now exists only in some impalpable, metaphysical sense, floating in the air like the Cheshire Cat’s smile. Or, as defined by Lewis Carroll’s card-pack Queen, it means exactly what someone says it means, from time to time. As just a few of the issues which fill…