Ugh! Where's Volume #2? They NEVER have the one I'm looking for!(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
We literary types are supposed to be nostalgic about Encyclopedia Britannica discontinuing its printed editions, but those crusty old books might not be worth the emotion. They were never really that practical. They were too heavy to be light reading, but not detailed or current enough to be helpful in school. The first thing teachers used to say before any research assignment was, “Don’t just copy something out of the encyclopedia.”
So, of course, the stupid kids non-literary types would copy something out of the encyclopedia and get an F (unless they had the overly sensitive English teacher who felt sorry for the stupid kids non-literary types and would give them a C for at least copying something).
The smart kids would drive (or have their parents drive them) to the city library, spend hours digging and squinting through the microfiche, and then get infuriated at the misleading titles to articles that never had the information we thought they would have. Finally, we just made up all the statistics, used the article titles in our bibliography anyway, and prayed that our teachers didn’t have private collections of periodicals in their homes.
It was a time consuming strategy, but it worked.
The point is that the encyclopedia was worthless for any academic projects, and we certainly didn’t read them for enjoyment, so what was their purpose? Going online seems to make perfect sense, but again, what is the encyclopedia’s purpose?
The problem with Encyclopedia Britannica online is that the name “Encyclopedia Britannica” is too long for stupid kids non-literary types to find it (yeah, it’s probably ironic that a blog called Dysfunctional Literacy would criticize somebody else’s long name). It’s easier for stupid kids to get on Google and then get distracted by the porn sites they accidentally stumble upon. The stupid kids still get F’s, but the research is way more fun.
The good students will still have to go elsewhere because Encyclopedia Britannica online (or “britannica.com”), while updated more frequently than ever, won’t be an acceptable source for most English teachers. The good news is that students don’t have to drive to the city library anymore to find other online resources. The bad news is that now it’s easier for teachers to find out if you’ve made up your own statistics.
If the online version of Encyclopedia Britannica is even more useless to students than the printed version of Encyclopedia Britannica was, then the online “britannica.com,” while kind of cool, might still be kind of pointless.
If I saw this guy on the street, I wouldn't recognize him any more than he'd recognize me. And that's great! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Being a writer is better than being an athlete because when writers make mistakes, most people can’t tell. If I forget to put a comma somewhere, fans won’t boo me and tell me I suck. When an athlete screws up, fans scream and send death threats to his family. I like being able to make mistakes without people threatening my family.
Being a professional athlete can be glamorous, but athletic ability fades quickly, and by the time you’re 30, you’d better be planning another career. As a writer, I’m way past 30, and I’m just getting warmed up.
Being an athlete is better than being a writer in one respect: hot chicks with cleavage like athletes way better than writers. The only reason a hot chick with cleavage will go out with a writer is if the writer has a lot of money, but a hot chick with cleavage will go out with the lowliest of bench warmers because that bench warmer might someday become a star. Plus, the bench warmer athlete might be a handsome dude.
But if you take hot chicks with cleavage out of the equation (stay with me here), being a writer is far better than being an athlete.
The reason I bring this up is because of Ryan Leaf. The former San Diego Chargers quarterback got arrested for burglary, and a bunch of stuff from his past is coming up, and I actually feel bad for the guy. I kind of resented him in 1998(?) when he was a first round draft pick (some experts thought at the time that he should be picked before Peyton Manning) and got 14 million dollars, which is probably 5 times more money than I’ll make in my entire life. And right now, I’m really glad I’m not him.
When Ryan Leaf melted down, he melted down quickly and publicly. He screamed at reporters, his play on the field got worse, and soon he became known as the biggest bust in NFL history. Now he’s been busted for burglary, and the world knows about other problems he has. This is what happens when athletes melt down. Everybody notices, and a bunch of critics pile on.
When writers melt down, it takes a lot for people to notice. Maybe a James Frey will look silly getting lectured by Oprah, or Aaron Sorkin will get caught doing something stupid/illegal, but people forget, and writers will find work again.
This is what’s great about being a writer. I have no idea what James Frey or Aaron Sorkin look like. When I saw a recent picture of an aging Ryan Leaf, I thought, “That’s Ryan Leaf!” James Frey can probably walk into a store without getting recognized. When he introduces himself to strangers, they probably don’t say, “You’re not…THAT James Frey, are you?”
I’m sure Ryan Leaf got death threats for struggling as a professional quarterback. I’m also sure James Frey never got death threats for lying (embellishing) in his memoir A Million Little Pieces. Maybe a few people ripped out a page and sent it to the publisher for a refund, but I doubt it. A good book is a good book, even if it is a lie.
And if a writer screws up or melts down, the world doesn’t know it, unless he’s silly enough to go on Oprah.
Ernest Hemingway on safari, Kenya, 1954 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I realized today that Ernest Hemingway and I have something in common. It’s not that we both write. Ernest Hemingway wrote For Whom the Bell Tolls and The Old Man and the Sea, and a bunch of stuff that actually got published and read by millions of people, and I write a blog, so the two aren’t really comparable.
Last week some of Ernest Hemingway’s old letters to friends were released to the public, and the news stories and commentaries focused on Hemingway crying when he had to kill his injured cat. That’s not news. Nobody wants to kill their pets. Even tough guys get misty-eyed when their pets die; it’s even worse if you have to do it yourself.
It’s not the revelation about Ernest Hemingway’s cat in his letters that I find interesting; it’s a statement where he admits that he didn’t write very good letters.
I don’t write very good letters either. I’m guessing Ernest Hemingway’s letters are better than mine, but I don’t write letters anymore, and I’m not going to read his, so I guess I’ll never know for sure.
I write to communicate, but I don’t write to be social, which is why I don’t write letters. I don’t have a Facebook or Twitter account. I only email or text when I need to tell people something but I don’t feel like talking to them. I don’t post pictures of myself, my family, and our vacations. I don’t care if others do it, but it’s not for me.
Letters are kind of personal, and I don’t like writing about personal stuff either. I’d much rather write dirty jokes about politicians and celebrities doing stupid stuff in public (while I hope nobody notices the stupid stuff I do every day).
From what I understand, Ernest Hemingway thought he didn’t write very good letters because he wrote a lot of other things first every day, and by the time he got around to writing his letters, he was already written out . His reason for not writing good letters is way better than my reason.
*****
Last summer, my 15 year old dog died. He had been sick for a few months, and we knew the day was coming, but it was still rough, and I didn’t want to talk about it to anyone.
On the day my dog was put to sleep, I texted a couple people to let them know, but other than that, I didn’t write about it. Instead, I wrote a dirty joke about Anthony Weiner’s package for Dysfunctional Literacy. It was actually a pretty good joke. Bill Clinton, Brett Favre, and Anthony Weiner were at the post office comparing their packages when… okay, that’s not the point.
I probably should have at least dedicated the joke to my dead dog, but he got me back. That night I stepped into his final gift in our back yard. And my family thought that was way funnier than my Anthony Weiner package joke.
I’m probably not going to write any letters about my dead dog, but I still think about him a lot. He was a cool dog.
The American public will always respect Bruce Jenner for defeating Soviet Olympic athletes during the Cold War, and he's earned his spots on the Wheaties boxes, but since then he's sold his soul to the Kardashians. Don’t push it, Bruce! (Photo credit: mutantlog)
I know this is one of those things that I shouldn’t care about, but I feel vindicated since I’ve heard that the sales of Wheaties cereal have been plummeting.
I never liked Wheaties. The flakes weren’t that tasty when they were dry, and they clumped together in a poopy way when they got soggy, and the syrupy milk tasted funny. Since you had to eat them quickly before they got disgusting, the Breakfast of Champions should have been called the Breakfast of Fast Eaters.
I think it’s finally okay to say that Wheaties is not a good cereal (and never has been). I have gone back to many childhood cereals in my time as a middle-aged adult. I still enjoy the occasional Crunch Berries and the every once in a while Rice Krispies. But I have never gone back to Wheaties.
Wheaties never should have been popular in the first place, and its success just proves the power of marketing. Whoever convinced Muhammed Ali and Bruce Jenner (and numerous other famous athletes) to allow Wheaties to use their images for almost no money was a genius in an Arianna Huffington kind of way. That simple sports theme made Wheaties last for generations longer than it should have.
Wheaties was popular for the same reason Star Wars: The Phantom Menace was popular. People liked them because they were told they were supposed to like them. If you stood outside a movie theater line in 1999 and proclaimed, “Phanton Menace sucks!” you would have gotten jumped by some overweight dude in a Jar Jar Binks costume.
When I declared in 1975 that Wheaties stink (“stinks” was the 1970s equivalent of “sucks”), I was called a (something that rhymes with) “wussy” and given a Raggedy Ann doll to play with. I learned then to eat my Wheaties quietly.
In 2012 if you proclaim, “Phantom Menace sucks!” at a comic convention (the closest thing you can get to Star Wars movie theater line today), everybody agrees, even the formerly overweight guy who burned his Jar Jar Binks costume in 2005.
When something is supposed to be good but sucks, it takes time for certain fans to reach the right conclusion. You can’t just shove it in their faces. Ten years from now people will realize that “I Gotta Feeling” by The Black Eyed Peas is a truly wretched song, but if you proclaim it too loudly today, fans will get defensive and double down, and you might get into a fight over it.
Wheaties had a good run, better than it deserved. The same goes for Star Wars: Episodes 1-3 and the Black Eyed Peas. But a good run built on marketing rather than substance should never happen in the first place.
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I admire Arianna Huffington for three reasons.
First of all, she married a rich guy who was not heterosexual. And when they divorced, she (probably/maybe) got a lot of money for it.
25 years ago when I had more hair and was kind of cute, I had the opportunity to have a rich guy who was not heterosexual give me a lot of money (since I’m a dude, we couldn’t have gotten married, so Arianna had an advantage that I didn’t have). I thought long and hard about it but decided it was a bad idea since I am heterosexual, but now I’m going to have to live with that decision for the rest of my life.
So I kind of understand what Arianna went through. Life is full of difficult choices.
Next, she convinced a bunch of bloggers to write on her Huffington Post for free. She must be very persuasive because I’m a blogger, and I hate writing for free, even for my own blog, Dysfunctional Literacy. Writing for free stinks, but she convinced a bunch of writers to do it… for her blog.
Then she convinced AOL to give her a lot of money for The Huffington Post, a blog so monolithic and pointless, it overwhelms the senses with “WATCH!” and endless columns of today’s news and opinions. And the homepage takes forever to load on a slow computer.
I feel a bit conflicted because I admire Arianna Huffington but I despise The Huffington Post.
At any rate, it was this third crowning achievement that led to a blogger suing Arianna. From what I understand, this blogger (and his class action cohorts) thought that he should get some of that AOL money because it was “free” bloggers like him (some guy I had never heard of) that made The Huffington Post so successful.
No, it was bloggers like him that make The Huffington Post so monolithic and unreadable. It was Arianna Huffington’s mastery of self-promotion that made The Huffington Post so successful.
The blogger who just had his lawsuit dismissed shouldn’t feel too bad. No, he won’t get money from Arianna, but his name is listed in the first paragraph of a bunch of news articles on a bunch of websites this weekend. This is the type of name recognition and publicity he might have been hoping to get when he agreed to write for free on The Huffington Post.
Now he’s gotten a weekend of more publicity than he could ever get just for writing, even for Arianna Huffington.
But he still probably won’t get any money out of it. If it’s any consolation to those former Huffington Post bloggers, I won’t get paid for my blogging this weekend either.
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
A bunch of college guys were sitting around in their frat house when the fraternity smooth talker made an announcement.
“I have decided what I am going to do after college,” the smooth talker declared. “I am going to become a politician.”
The other frat guys nodded, since the smooth talker had shown little aptitude for anything except an amazing ability to convince women to give him stuff for nothing in return (except momentary affection and empty promises).
“Now that I have chosen my career, I must choose my political party,” the smooth talker continued. “Should I become a republican or a democrat? I don’t even know the difference between the two.”
“There isn’t a difference,” said the fraternity hunk, who was a libertarian. “The only difference between republicans and democrats is that most republicans at least know that their candidates suck.”
“That is a shallow way of delineating the differences between republicans and democrats,” the frat intellectual said. “It depends on where you stand on a number of issues. What do you think about the economy, the deficit, the national debt, health care, gas prices, national defense, and the environment?”
“Babes,” the smooth talker said. “Which party has more babes?”
“Women tend to vote democrat a bit more than they do republican,” the intellectual responded. “But that’s not a valid reason to…”
“Then a democrat I shall be!” the smooth talker proclaimed, cutting off the intellectual. “I shall represent women, and minorities, and the poor in their struggles against the oppressors in this country.”
“But you are the oppressor,” the hunk said, puzzled. “You treat women like dirt in your personal life. You voted the poor students out of this fraternity because they couldn’t pay their dues. You tell the vilest racist jokes I’ve ever heard. And you say you want to help these people?”
“I am a politician,” the smooth talker said with a wink. “Just because I say I want to help women, minorities, and the poor doesn’t mean I have to hang out with them.”
And with that, the smooth talker stepped out of the frat house to begin his political career.
The hunk was furious, but the intellectual couldn’t figure out why.
“You always thought the smooth talker’s antics were funny when he got women to pay his way for everything,” the intellectual said. “What has changed?”
“I just got hired by a huge corporation,” the hunk explained. “Now that he’s a politician, it’s guys like me that will have to pay his way for everything.”
It takes confidence for a politician to go on a show called "The Biggest Loser" right before a major election. Confidence... or a lack of foresight. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Weight loss is a lot like writing. Both take commitment to be successful. Both require lots of frustrating work, and on some days it seems like you have nothing to show for that hard work. The next few paragraphs might make it seem like I don’t respect the weight loss process, but I do, just as much as I respect the writing process (most of the time).
*****
When “The Biggest Loser” first came on a few years ago, nobody thought the television show would last long. It had a tacky name (I know because when I laughed at it, people said I was tacky for laughing at it), a tacky concept, and no stars except for an actress formerly from “Sabrina, the Teenage Witch.”
I guess the public was so desperate for anything “weight loss” that eventually the tacky became acceptable. Now First Lady Michelle Obama is inviting the contestants of “The Biggest Loser” to the White House for a reunion with family members and a White House workout.
What the trainers and contestants don’t realize is that the White House workout is a round of golf.
I have nothing against Michelle Obama, and I appreciate a first lady who tries to do something about obesity in the United States. My problem is that this particular episode will have no entertainment value. The contestants will be in awe of Michelle Obama and smile awkwardly. Michelle Obama will be charming. It will be a highly promoted very special episode, but everybody knows “very special episodes” suck.
If “The Biggest Loser” wants a politician and get huge ratings, they need to get New Jersey Governor Chris Christie on the show.
No, I’m not going to make a bunch of “Chris Christie fat jokes” because all the good ones have already been done that’s not the main reason I want him on the show. I want Chris Christie on “The Biggest Loser” for the entertainment value.
Governor of New Jersey Chris Christie: I don't know what he's talking about, but I'm pretty sure he's about to argue with somebody. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Governor Chris Christie loves to argue. Videos of Chris Christie arguing are way more entertaining than any episode of “The Biggest Loser” will ever be (except for any episode with Governor Chris Christie). I want to see Chris Christie argue with Jillian during a workout. I want Chris Christie to argue with other contestants during their workouts. I want Chris Christie to argue at the weigh-ins. I want Chris Christie to argue at the vote-offs. This “very special episode” of “The Biggest Loser” would probably be… THE BEST VERY SPECIAL EPISODE EVER!!!
A younger Rick Santorum. This picture was probably taken when there weren't any New York Times reporters in the room. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Even though I rarely use profanity in writing, I am known to occasionally let loose verbally with some foul language. If somebody cuts me off in traffic, I’ll cuss. When my kids bring home bad grades, I’ll cuss. When my priest’s sermons go over ten minutes long during football season, I cuss (very quietly). Profanity is almost an impulse, and when I speak, the first word is sometimes profane.
A couple days ago Rick Santorum cussed at a New York Times reporter in public with witnesses and microphones on. His opponents are going to keep criticizing him for it, and his supporters will defend him (and give him money), but I don’t care about any of that.
I don’t have a problem with a presidential candidate picking a fight with a reporter. President Bush (the first) boosted his primary campaign in 1988 when he got into an argument with Dan Rather (back when Dan Rather was kind of a big shot). But then again, Vice-President Bush didn’t curse at him.
And even though I’m not a big fan of reporters , I’m not convinced the New York Times reporter’s behavior warranted Santorum’s mild profanity. The reporter was simply doing what reporters do (asking annoying questions), and Santorum probably overreacted (and I don’t have a problem with that, either).
But there is a time when I kind of wish somebody would cuss at reporters.
*****
The morning news television shows do a lot of interviews every day, and one of their stories each day usually involves somebody going through a tragic situation. Many of these tragic situations are truly horrific, things I wouldn’t wish on anybody, and yet these (mostly) normal everyday people going through tragic situations find the fortitude (or whatever it is called) to do an interview on a national news show.
And no matter how tragic the situation is, the interviewers on these various morning news shows start with an almost cheerful, “Good morning!”
The interviewees going through these tragic situations always respond with a polite “Good morning” even though these interviewees are going through the worst moments of their lives. These interviewees are far better people than I am.
If I were going through a tragic situation, and for some reason I decided to go on a national news show to talk about it, and the reporter who was talking to me knew that I was going through the worst moment of my entire life, and he (or she) started off the interview with a “Good morning,”….
I might have to cuss at him.
It might not solve anything. It might not help me at all with my tragic situation. But it might make reporters think of another way to begin their uncomfortable (often really awkward) interviews with people going through tragic situations.
And maybe I could get a job working for Rick Santorum.
When the congressman heard there were 2400 pages to look over, he got really excited… until he found out that the pages were in the 2010 health care bill. US Capital Building (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The Supreme Court is boring. Congress is boring. The legislation process is boring. Health care is boring. The problem with boring stuff is that a lot of times the boring stuff is really important, and the 2010 health care bill that the Supreme Court is ruling on is really, really important… and boring.
It’s sometimes called Obamacare, even though President Obama didn’t write it. Congress wrote it, so in a way the health care bill has around 600 authors. It’s like a movie with more than two screenwriters; you know it’s pretty much going to suck before you have even seen it.
At 2400 pages, the bill was too long to read before Congress voted on it. So naturally Congress voted on it before reading it. That’s like me reviewing a book before I’ve finished reading it (which I’ve… ahem… actually done a few times, but at least I’ve always admitted to it). Nobody has to follow my book review recommendations, but we pretty much have to follow what’s in the law (if it’s deemed constitutional).
And it took about a year to figure out what was in the law. 2010 was filled with arguments about “This is in the bill,” and “No, it’s not in the bill,” and then “Yeah, it’s in the bill, but not in the same words that you originally used.”
It was tough to figure out what was in the health care bill because the language was so boring. It would have been easier to figure out (and more fun to read) if the health care bill had actually used language like “death panels.” I would have eagerly read about “death panels.” Instead, there’s some long boring term for “death panels” that make it sound more patient friendly than “death panels.”
Experts finally figured out that the law requires that everybody purchase health insurance, and if you don’t, there’ll be a penalty. It’s not the death penalty (that would have made the health care bill more interesting), but a monetary penalty. Opponents say the government can’t force people to buy health insurance; obviously, the federal government disagrees.
Thankfully (for the Supreme Court), that’s the only part that the Supreme Court is ruling on. If the Supreme Court were treating this health care bill portion-by-portion like the president with a line item veto, the Supreme Court wouldn’t be hearing another case until Romney’s second term… ugh… I mean, Hillary’s first term… ugh… I mean, Biden’s first…. You know what I mean.
Luckily for legislators, the Supreme Court is not ruling on whether or not bad writing is unconstitutional. Otherwise, Congress might have to get shut down (which could be good), but then Twitter would also have to get shut down, and life would suddenly become less fun.
Peyton Manning, you are a future NFL Hall of Fame quarterback, but even more important, you can end conversations about race in America! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The situation in Florida where a guy who was of one particular race shot a teenager who was of another particular race is getting a lot of attention. It seems like maybe the police didn’t investigate this situation fully at the time, and now it’s become a national issue.
When there’s a national issue that involves two different races, there are certain politicians, celebrities, and media outlets that think it is time for a “conversation about race in America” (in quotes because that’s the phrase a certain news network uses).
The problem with a “conversation about race in America” is that a lot of people who claim to want this conversation don’t really want two-way communication; they want to lecture.
I know people don’t really want conversations when they cut me off in mid-sentence to refute my point when I haven’t finished making my point, and my point pretty much agreed with their point but they were too eager to make sure their point is heard so they miss my point.
That’s why I don’t like conversations about race (or politics, or abortion).
Writing about race (or politics, or abortion) is different because nobody can cut me off in mid-sentence to refute my point that I haven’t finished making yet. They might stop reading. They might leave nasty comments. They might try to get me fired from my own blog. But they can’t interrupt me.
I can’t stop talking heads on cable channels from having counterproductive conversations about race in America (you know, that freedom of speech thing), but I can choose to stop these counterproductive conversations from messing up my normally peaceful life.
So, if I choose not to participate in the “conversation about race in America”, that means I need a way out. If I say out loud, “I choose not to participate in the national conversation about race in America,” then people will wonder why I am defensive and what I’m hiding. So I need to not participate without appearing like I’m trying not to participate.
And I have a way.
I tried it once a couple days ago, and it seemed to work. A person was talking about race in America (and making others feel uncomfortable or angry) at a social gathering. I let the person finish his point. I smiled (hopefully it didn’t look fake). I maintained eye contact.
Then I said, “I understand what you mean.”
I took a quick dramatic breath (to show I was going to speak again).
Then I said really loudly to everybody, “Hey, what do you guys think about Peyton Manning going to the Broncos?”
Others leapt at the new topic, and the tension in the room dissipated almost immediately.
*****
Talking about race in America can be uncomfortable, and most of the time nothing good comes from it. It’s a sensitive subject, better written about than spoken.
But if somebody is absolutely bound and determined to start a “conversation about race in America” with you, and bringing up Peyton Manning can’t divert the course, I’ve got a back-up topic for you.
“Hey, what the heck are the New York Jets going to do with Tim Tebow, anyway?”
Dysfunctional Literacy 