Gather ’round, Grandkids. And put down those Tide pods — they’re for dessert.
Back before blogs, I regularly sent lots of cranky letters to people, some of whom actually answered. In rooting through old files the other say, I discovered I still have a bunch, including a thick file folder filled with exchanges between me and various clodpates at the Miami Hurled, like their runty publisher. Save that for another day.
When we first moved to Florida, I was struck by the astonishing incompetence of, well, everybody. Restaurant help, counter clerks, paraprofessionals, trash collectors — it was everywhere. It was like everybody was faking it. But what floored me flat was the sheer illiteracy of so-called professionals in advertising and journalism, people who were supposed to able to craft simple sentences, but clearly had difficulties. So when I got this flyer in the mail, I had to respond:
“Florda.” Pretty classy, innit. Trust this outfit to provide you with sensitive data on charitable donations and philanthropic institutions? Like what this says about your chosen profession? Ass afire, I dashed off this indignant letter:
I never got a response. Wonder why. Truth to tell, I was kinda hoping for a job offer.
Aah, well. The 80s. Blogging turned out to be more fun anyway, and nowadays all sorts of twisted correspondents are happy to respond. As we’ll see over the next few days.