First thing this morning: Editing an intern’s story for the website. What a joy to handle copy that doesn’t require major surgery. Give me a kid whose only story notes are “learn the difference between citizens and residents,” and I can teach that one something.
My online dictionary has them as virtual synonyms, but my online dictionary is full of shit. Citizens carry passports, residents only a driver’s license. Do not make this mistake in your daily writing again. Tomorrow we’ll tackle “convince” and “persuade.”
Kate’s been having a grind of it lately, between school and track and having a spring cold. But she’s holding up her end with more aplomb than I would have mustered at her age, so I was looking for some little reward I could offer her for the homestretch of the year. Tickets to the Movement festival downtown over Memorial Day weekend? Better ask first; kids her age have strong ideas about what’s cool and what’s lame, and for all I know, techno and electronica is the latter. This would be one of those affairs where we’d go along; no way am I turning my kid loose in the middle of something like this without at least one adult within shouting distance. What would I say as she left the car? “No ecstasy, honey!”
But as I said: Better ask first. She and her friends have complicated flow charts of the various sects of youth culture; you should hear them expound on the difference between hipsters and scenesters, both of which they disapprove of and neither of which I could confidently identify. The last time I asked what a scenester was, it involved “some girl, and she takes a picture of herself with her webcam, and she’s like holding up her hand like a claw, and underneath it says dinosaurs go rawr.” OK, whatever.
Maybe I should put it this way: I’d like to go to Movement. Maybe she’d like to come along.
I have Russian homework to do, so let’s skip to the bloggage:
Hungover owls. To fill the gap left by Fuck You, Penguin, I guess. (Forget electronic music; this is what I should be schooling my kid in — coming up with one amusing idea broad enough to sustain a single quickie book sold at Urban Outfitters and hello, University of Michigan B-school! We’d spend her college fund on a boat.)
To give the oft-abused Mitch Albom his due, I will admit that of all his media personae, he plays best on the radio. In that universe of outsize jerkoffs, his regular-guy act, false though it may be, resembles something approaching normalcy. So I’m sure that if I’d heard this on-air confrontation with local right-wing host Frank Beckmann, I’d have been on Team Mitch. Beckmann, a Limbaugh manqué whose act I caught once (lasted about three minutes, snapped it off, never went back) has been claiming Albom’s staunch defense of the Michigan film incentives constitute some sort of journalistic conflict of interest, because one of his books is a movie-in-progress. Albom has stated before that he gets paid — has already been paid, in fact — no matter where the project shoots, and his interest is strictly for the local people who will work on it.
Can I get it on the record? I agree with Mitch Albom. Yes, I AGREE WITH MITCH ALBOM. He’s right about this. “Have a Little Faith” could shoot in Cleveland or Toronto or Timbuktu, and it won’t make no never-mind to his end. He’s already moved on to shuffling headshots of who will be his next on-air portrayer, having already used up Hank Azaria and Michael Imperioli. (I’ve got five bucks on Shia LaBeouf, although this is a — snicker — Hallmark production, so they will probably go a little cheaper.) I’m sure I still would have laughed at this exchange:
Albom’s tenor went airborne a few times, and when he commented that Beckmann “wasn’t knowledgeable” about the issue, Beckmann’s baritone boomed out, “Oh, so I’m stupid?”
Then: “Of course, you’re knowledgeable, Mitch. It must be a burden to carry that around.”
I wouldn’t have been able to resist that fat soft one up the middle. Yes, you’re stupid, Frank. This isn’t a hard one to figure out. Ultimately, though, this is like a war between two people you can’t stand. Whoever wins, you win.
Gene Weingarten Twittered this under his “should be convicted on mugshot alone” series. I’d call it: Forceps babies, the later chapters.
Better get out of here before lightning strikes. On a day when I can find something nice to say about Mitch, anything can happen.
Happy Wednesday, all.