Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Death to Dinosaurs

Death to dinosaurs is what I see
in my dreams, and it seems
fair to care why they die.
Large and leathery, wheezing,
stumbling, falling, and then
melting away. Vanishing.
They chased me, and I hid one of
the dogs they wanted to eat.
It felt like the right thing to do.

I don't know how to make sense
of these places, these dinosaur
faces, fading away over
entertainment centers.
They're random, they say.
They're the future, they say.
It's gray to me, and still it seems
to be something I somehow knew.
A place no less real than you.

In a land where dinosaurs die, or
tornadoes fly, or a land where
I'm still in school, how do I know
where my home is? What a home is?
What is true?
And if that passes as a home there, then
how do I remember to care? In those places,
with those faces. Fading. Dying now.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

The Wifers


Undeniably, the wifers runs the show. I don't mean in our marriage. I mean she runs the life show.

More than anybody I've ever been around, my other half controls her environment. It's really pretty impressive. She uses some unknown mind powers to get people to do whatever she wants, whenever she wants.

She's always been widely respected/feared at every job I've seen her have, and otherwise reasonable people seem horrified at the idea of letting her down. Back in the day, when we worked at Hardee's, if she was starting to get upset at a string of ridiculous orders or an incompetent co-worker, people would fly in from out of nowhere to help out. Even her bosses. It was very bizarre.

When I was 19, we were together for months before I even realized I was in a relationship. She told everyone I was dating her to help pay her bills. And, even though I clearly had no money, they believed her. I still don't know how she got me to ask her out. These days, she gets me to do things for her without ever asking. It's amazing, and I don't know how she does it.

One day, we were in our bedroom after a satisfying meal, and she said, "you know what sounds good?" And I said, "Andy's. I'll be right back." I had her hot fudge sundae with nuts before I knew what had happened.

If she wants wants me to turn the light off, she doesn't even have to say anyting. She simply makes a lazy wave of her hand, like a paw scratching, and I know that means it's time for lights out.

And the kids, don't get me started on the kids. Our boys will defend her to the death, even if I'm the one whose right. Somehow, our children have been raised to believe that fathers have to do anything mothers ask. And they have to be happy about it. I never taught them that! I try to tell them different, but they never listen.

Her genius does come with a few eccentricities. She puts her deodorant on in an unassailable ritual pattern that would humble even the most OCD person -- so many strokes, and just a certain way, but I don't try to understand. She arrives at work 30 minutes early come rain, snow or hail. I'm not sure why, but I think it's so she never feels any pressure to clock in.

The bottom line is, there is no sneaking up on her; she already knows you're there. You think you're watching the big game, then you're checking highlights online. She's been watching her shows, and you didn't even know. If she's cold, now you're cold. She's got your jacket.

It's incredible.

Today is her birthday. I would have a present for her, but I already told her she can buy whatever she wants. I don't know how that happened.

Happy Birthday, Valerie! I'm glad I'm on your side.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Intro to Journalism

I was recently upset by reading an article titled "People, businesses sending messages," which appeared on Page 2 in the Aug. 25 issue of the Community Free Press. The story was centered around an anti-Obama billboard that a group of local brokers had recently put up. The article struck me as biased, and honestly, it pissed me off to read it.

Let me be clear, I wasn't upset to see the sentiments expressed. The core idea, or what I imagined the core idea to be, was a good one: local citizens spend their own money to make a political statement. What angered me was that it seemed almost the entire story was focused on the opinions of one broker. No opposing view from a local Democratic official. No feedback from people who had seen the sign. No reflections from a local political science professor about the larger political divide in America. Nothing. Almost as an afterthought, the story's author, James Hanson, spoke to the billboard company about whether or not these types of political billboards were becoming more popular. That was at the butt-end of the article.

Having once been bawled out by Bob Mace, CFP's columnist, for not offering enough opposing facts and figures when I covered a local meeting on Clean Energy development, a.k.a. "Cap and Trade" legislation, I thought I'd send Mace an e-mail about my negative reaction to Hanson's story. After a couple back and forths, I was surprised to find out that the man who had something like 30 years experience in the publishing business -- he manages the day-to-day operations of a national auto-parts magazine -- didn't have a problem with the article.

In fact, he went so far as to make complaints he'd heard about the piece the focus of his column in the CFP's current issue. I was stunned. And then, I was confused. In the column, ("Sign post" Page 6) he seemed to argue that A, opposing viewpoints were too obvious to seek or mention, and B, other news was more important.

What?!?

I had to steady myself. Some background: I worked for 2 1/2 years in the same building as Mace, and while I found him to be somewhat abrasive and quick-tempered, he was without question one of the smartest people I've ever met.

I couldn't understand why the man that had seemed so strict and fair-minded when I wrote a story about Clean Energy could be so dismissive of my charges of bias in what I thought was a clear example of a one-sided story.

In case you are wondering, Hanson had expressed to me before, on more than one occasion, that he was no longer a Democrat.

Without quoting a private e-mail, I can say that Mace had said my story dealt with the underlying issues behind Cap and Trade, and thus, it required a look at both sides. James' story was just about a sign people had seen.

So, I sought the opinion of one of my former professors, Dr. Andrew Cline. Cline is a Journalism professor at Missouri State, and two areas of his expertise include political rhetoric and media bias. I asked him to review Hanson's piece, as well as Mace's column, and comment on them. I told Cline I'd quote him in this post, but I thought his analysis was so on point that I decided to share the comments in full:

Hanson's article about the "Embarrassed Yet?" billboard is stenography, not reporting.

I think it is appropriate to cover the issue of using a billboard for civic commentary given the placement, the sponsorship, and the stated reasons for posting it. This billboard is basically a bumper sticker writ large. A good article could have answered such questions as: What does it mean to use a billboard this way? Who else is doing it? Who are the others involved in this billboard? What do other participants have to say? Is there a history of citizens using billboards this way or is this something new? What have the public reactions been? Any reaction from city officials and political candidates? How cost effective is a billboard for civic messages? Do experts believe such messages are productive? How might opposing people respond? What's Lamar's policy on political billboards? Any ironic reactions, i.e. agreeing Democrats or disagreeing Republicans?

Hanson, however, mostly gives Stephen Critchfield a generous opportunity to state opinions as facts. So much of the article is merely Critchfield complaining about Obama that it detracts from what the news really is -- the use of the billboard by private citizens for civic commentary. Such ham-handed reporting/writing heightens the importance of Critchfield's assertions so that they become the point of the article, not the billboard. And since Hanson does nothing to check Critchfield's assertions, the article has the feel of a rant dutifully recorded by a stenographer.

If you're going to quote then you've got to check. It's called the discipline of verification, and it is the very foundation of good journalism.

It doesn't take more than one, maybe two short quotes to demonstrate that Critchfield is unhappy with the Obama administration, thus establishing the reason for posting the billboard. Hanson would then have been able to more fully explore the real issue with the remaining column inches, including adding more voices pro, con, and complicated. That would have been interesting.

Bob Mace's reaction column demonstrates a fuzzy understanding of the craft/ethics of journalism. Contrary to Mace's opinion, Hanson should have offered an opposing voice the opportunity to react given how much of the article is about Critchfield's complaints. Mace asserts that the "story is the sign." Clearly not. Count the column inches. Fully half the story is about Critchfield's unchecked and unchallenged complaints about Obama.

This issue of using billboards for public commentary deserved better reporting. Hanson's effort would have earned a poor grade in my Introduction to Journalism class.


I don't to want to beat up on James, but in my opinion, his article stinks. Mace's defense of the stinky article only serves to support the alienation of fair-minded readers and make Mace look ignorant.

Knowing how smart Bob is, and knowing he had said he was an old poker buddy of Billy Long, I can't help but wonder if Mace is himself so "Fed Up" with the current administration that his own judgment is clouded on this issue.

I hope and pray that something Cline has said will encourage my former employer and co-workers to be more mindful of other points of view.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Modern Life

I died at the age of 68.
I was killed by commercials
and side-line reporters.
I died from a fear of death.
I rock'n rolled in quiet places,
and was killed by Pop Country.
Politicians stood over my dead
body and poked at it curiously
before remembering their luncheon
date.
I succumbed to 4 percent annual
returns, and the guy who laughed
in fresh bellows at nothing
particularly funny.
I died from instructions on cereal
boxes, and dogs that barked when
I strolled past their yards.
I died from the smell of make-up
and tampons.
I croaked from heartbreak at 13, 14,
15, 19, 32, 46, and 54.
Televangelists sitting in gold chairs
sealed my casket with hairspray
and lip gloss.
I died from working over grease
and under cars.
I died while watching my children die.
I died at the computer, under florescence,
in air-conditioning.
I was killed by long lines and waiting
while standing.
I died not knowing what I should have
known. I died having given less
than I could have.
I died from a panic of the heart.
A heart that knew what a good heart
should be.
I died like you'll die,
still and sober, without sound,
remembering none of these.

Friday, September 3, 2010

Laser focus

A lot of what keeps me from being successful as a writer are all the fantastic ideas I get. Each one seems to be better than the next, and none of them are related to each other.

If anyone ever stole my wallet, not only would that person be disappointed by the lack of money inside, but he or she would surely think I was crazy.

In my billfold, I have little pieces of paper with oddly coded phrases written on them. Each is meant to represent a certain artistic epiphany of mine. A thief with an intuitive gift or a disciplined approach to writing could easily lift a career off of me.

You see, after years of working overnights in a donut shop, I've grown tired of forgetting all of my brilliance when I wake up in the morning. My solution: write my little golden nuggets down. And I figured since I've always got my wallet with me, I can just stick them in there and they won't get washed in my shorts. That's right, I even have great ideas for my ideas.

So what's the problem? Why no riches, yet? It turns out my notes are no good. When I do remember the idea the words are supposed to represent, I can never figure out what I need to do next.

Here are some examples of things I've written down and placed next to my 2008 zoo pass:

The Reason for Showers. I'm pretty sure this was an idea for a sitcom about a young college guy and his search for love. Either that or I just made that up now.

Kissy, Kissy; Love letters. This is a website idea. I'd write fake love letters between celebrities and/or politicians. The best letters would come from people that cheat on their spouses. For example, love letters between Tiger Woods and his mistresses. This needs to be further developed.

National Diary. If I recall correctly, America, as a person, would write in her diary about all the things going on -- in her mind? -- in politics or pop culture. I imagine America to have a teenage girl's voice.

Poor Jesus. ???. I think it was about Jesus in today's world having a hard time finding people to follow him.

There's an Old Man Dying in Pueblo, Colorado. I think it's a book idea about an old man who has worked in a donut shop his whole life. It seems less exciting to think about now.

Making a Sketch Comedy Show. It's a sketch comedy about making a sketch comedy. Could be something, right?

"I'd like to believe God could forgive me for killing him." I thought this would be a good line for one of my characters someday.

Curious Humans. Website or TV show idea. It seemed great and entirely original until I realized I was thinking about old episodes of Third Rock from the Sun.

Dear lord, if I ever get robbed please let it be by a young, ambitious Hollywood director. I wonder if I can sell ideas online?