More of WOS's Wise Words of Wisdom

SOLIPSIST: I have to do this online certification thing today.

WOS: Oh yeah?

SOL: Yeah.  The instructions say I should give myself four hours, but I can't imagine it's really going to take that long.

WOS: Probably not.

SOL: I mean, nothing takes me four hours.

WOS: Of course.

SOL: One time, someone told me to go on a four-hour walk, and I was done in two!

WOS: . . .

SOL: . . . .

WOS: I don't even know what you're talking about.

SOL: Oh.

WOS: I don't think you even know what you're talking about.

SOL: No, probably not.

If That's All There Is, My Friend, Then Let's Keep Friending

About a year ago, when Facebook changed its format, a great wailing arose across the land.  People were outraged.  A meme making its way around the interwebs at the time summed up the general attiude: A man sitting at a computer says, "I am outraged that this free service that I am under no obligation to use has made some changes that mildly inconvenience me!"

That was nothing compared to the outrage that greeted the announcement of the "Timeline" feature.  For the last several months, I have sat by, largely silent, as people have reacted with fear and loathing to the latest affront to all things good by Zuckerberg, et al.  I myself wasn't overly worried, and, indeed, I felt somewhat left out as I saw friend after friend "adopting" Timeline.  I think some people thought I was being a principled holdout--in fact, I was worried that I had done something to offend Mark Zuckerberg.

Well, today, a Facebook friend posted on my wall, "YOU HAVE. . . .TIMELINE!"  Knowing this particular friend, I suspect the intonation behind the all-caps exclamation was not unlike that with which you would question a friend about allegations of date rape or voting Republican.  Frankly, I was surprised.  "I do?"  I replied.

Now, I had, in fact, noted that my "wall" (if that's the correct term) seemed to look somewhat different, but I didn't really pay this much heed: I spend most of my Facebook time lurking on my Newsfeed page.  When I realized that these alterations were, in fact, the much ballyhooed Timeline, I was frankly underwhelmed.  Was THIS what all the fuss had been about?

Any major change that can slip by someone unnoticed for weeks on end does not merit the description "major."  I'm not even sure it merits the word "change."

What, No Lucrezia Borgia?

In honor of Women's History Month or International Women's Day or maybe just Women's Four O'Clock, the college library has set up a student-crafted display in the lobby.  Giant pieces of construction paper have been festooned with photos and factoids about famous females throughout history.  The section devoted to "Women in Politics" features pictures and capsule biographies of such trailblazing notables as Representatives Shirley Chisholm and Nancy Pelosi; Marian Wright Edelman, the president and founder of the Children's Defense Fund; some lesser-known (at least in America) figures like Jamaican Prime Minister Portia Lucretia Simpson-Miller and Mexican Attorney General Marisela Morales Ibanez (who is actually quite the fox--talk about putting the "International Woman" in "International Women's Day," Mrrrr-ow!);

Where was I?

Ah yes. And, rounding out the display of noteworthy female political figures. . . Tokyo Rose!

Tokyo Rose?

Look, just because a woman played a significant historical role, that doesn't mean her accomplishments MUST be celebrated.  How many encomiums to Idi Amin did you see during Black History Month?  Plus, "Tokyo Rose" isn't even technically a woman: "She" is a generic character, a name given to any of several English-speaking Japanese broadcasters who sought to destroy the morale of American servicement during World War II.  She's kind of the anti-motivational Rosie the Riveter--who, incidentally, is quite a prominent figure in this neck of the woods (Richmond, CA), where "Rosies" supported the Allied war effort through service in the local shipyards.  SHE couldn't have been put into the diorama?

Next to the politics section is a display about notable women in the sciences, prominently featuring information about Valerie Thomas, a NASA scientist who invented the "illusion transmitter," a device used in 3-D filmmaking.  Cool and all, but, in describing her invention, the students mentio that this technology made possible, "some of your favorite movies like" [wait for it] "Transformers: Dark of the Moon."

I'm sure "Transformers: Dark of the Moon" will feature prominently in the first line of Ms. Thomas's obituary.

So Sue Me

For New Yorkers past and present, a bomb dropped today.  News broke that Sue Simmons, longtime local anchorwoman for NBC news (that's channel 4 to those of us in the know), will not have her contract renewed.  At 68 years old, Simmons was quite likely entertaining ideas of retirement anyway.  Still, the apparently unceremonious nature in which the decision was presented is tacky at best.  Sue deserves better.

Sue Simmons was my first.  Newscaster, that is.  Oh, sure, I was aware of Walter Cronkite and other heavy-hitters in the nightly news business.  But Sue Simmons on "Live at Five"--alongside Jack Cafferty (before he went mad) and Al Roker (before he got ridiculously fat and, later, disturbingly thin)--was the first newscaster I actually watched with any regularity.  And, in this business of largely interchangeable talking heads, Sue always brought a distinct personality to the newsroom.  One evening, after a human interest story about some incredibly old man, Jack Cafferty said in his typical smarmy tones, "Wow, 97 years old.  Doesn't he look great?"  Sue looked right at the camera and said, shuddering, "Noooo!"

A "Save Sue Simmons" campaign has already sprung up on the internet, and, if she wants to keep working, I hope she gets the chance to do so.  But if these are the final weeks of Sue's broadcasting career, I'm sure I join a mass of New Yorkers in wishing her the best of luck.  Thanks for making the news interesting.

Ominous Signs

"THIS DOOR IS BROKEN."

I've spent several minutes pondering this hand-printed sign, taped to one of the library's doors.  When I saw it, I felt disoriented, like I had stepped into a Magritte painting.  The sign was obviously providing information, but to what purpose?  Simple notification?  Complaint?  Braggadocio, perhaps? 

I imagine someone on the library staff asked someone else on the library staff to put a sign on the door letting people know that the door was broken.  But, really, that's not exactly the important point, is it?  If you want people to, say, use another door, then perhaps a sign reading "PLEASE USE OTHER DOOR" is in order.  Just telling people that one particular door is broken may not be the most effective strategy; indeed, some may see it as a dare.

Burying the lede in journalism is bad enough; in signage, it's inexcusable.

Campaign Update

Pity the political journalist, especially in this election year, when he or she must cover Rick Santorum with a straight face.  So I understand these folks' impulse, when writing, to get a little creative, to choose le mot juste, or, if not writing in French, the perfect word to express exactly what they want to say.  But they (or their editors) do need to make sure that their mot is, in fact, juste:

"A loss to Mr. Santorum in Ohio would blunt Mr. Romney’s latest attempt to portray himself as the inexorable nominee." ("Before Super Tuesday, Big Names Rally to Romney," emphasis added)

Now, given his rivals' constant criticisms painting him as an unprincipled, finger-in-the-wind conservative who will say anything to get elected, Mitt Romney would probably love to be considered "inexorable"--unyielding, constant, as in "the inexorable march of time."  The campaign itself is inexorable--or, better yet, interminable.  Romney's nomination, however, is not inexorable; it is (probably) inevitable--unavoidable, destined to happen--which is no doubt what the reporter meant to say.

Speaking of the Republican campaign, I must comment on Rick Santorum's purported "nausea" upon listening to John F. Kennedy's speech defending the strict separation of church and state.  Of course, as many have noted, if Kennedy had not made that speech, assuring a wary nation that he was not in thrall to the Vatican, he might not have been elected, and other Catholics like, oh, Rick Santorum wouldn't have as easily been accepted as plausible presidential candidates.  But that's not what  really bothers me--Santorum's hypocrisies having by now become just so much background noise.  No, what worries me is that, if Kennedy's fifty-year old speech causes Santorum to become nauseous, does he really have the intestinal fortitude to occupy the White House?

I certainly hope he never Googles humself; he'd probably need to be hospitalized.

More of WOS's Wise Words of Wisdom

WOS: What's wrong?

SOLIPSIST: I'm thirsty!

WOS: So get something to drink.

SOL: I WANT to get something to drink!

WOS: (Sighing) What is it?

SOL: Well, I got this really yummy iced-tea drink at Whole Foods. . .

WOS: OK. . . So.  Why. Don't. You. Drink. It.

SOL: I can't!

WOS: Why not?

SOL: Because it says "Keep refrigerated."

WOS: And?

SOL: Well, how can I keep it refrigerated if I drink it?

WOS: Go away!

SOL: Meanness!

WOS: I say that with love.

SOL: It doesn't sound like love.

WOS: It's tough love.

SOL: "Tough love" is just a fancy word for hate!