Tribes at One: Powdered, Diapered, and All Nine Teeth Gleaming

Can you hear the drumming? But it's not that Hollywoodized melodrama of "scary shit in the jungle" drumming, no, it's got more of a samba beat, or maybe a rhumba—or even a tango. It's the sound of the Triiibes network, banging out a bouncy, bopping birthday beat.

And tango might well describe it, because if you're just a "one," you're not a tribe. We all know what it takes to tango: Two. Or in this case, an entire Tribe.

So, Triiibes at one year: still a fresh-faced babe, and seemingly in the pink. Even the child-labor laws couldn't stop the production of the Tribes Q&A or the Casebook, but those stellar efforts notwithstanding, it's really the day-to-day cup-o'-joe-with-a-pal feeling (if all of your pals were remarkably astute, discerning, articulate and amusing) that is the essence of our birthday beauty.

Triiibes is how conversations should go: swift, sparkling rivers simultaneously flowing inward and out, darting bursts of insight that flash like iridescent tropical fish, a poignant line of a poem there, a roll-your-eyes corny joke there.

Implementable ideas are hard currency on Triiibes, but you find just as many moments of sharp candor, fresh vulnerability, and intellectual flexibility. Zesty stuff.

So, y'all cut yourself a piece of cake. (Megan, I'll go half the distance, and make it carrot, but no zucchini please. And Bernd, you look the other way when the sugar goes in the batter.) For those of you who need it (and you know who you are), add the bacon bits.

Happy birthday, Triiibal lads and lassies! Oh, duh, almost forgot: Seth, good show, good socks, good sense. Thanks!

by Tom Bentley