Next time I just 'gotta want it' a little bit more.

Buddy of mine tipped me to this new book yesterday, and it's with some ambivalence that I recommend it, particularly to those of you who are passionate about your sports. Don't get me wrong, it sounds like a terrific book in the Freakonomics/sabermetrics tradition: a book that pulls back the curtains of the sports world's hoary cliches and mythologies to determine in some scientific sense which (if any) of them has some basis in fact. In reading the Wired interview linked above, I was especially gratified to see the authors debunk the whole idea of momentum (and, by implication, at least certain facets of sports' hallowed "mental game"), which, of course, is a key component of what we on this blog call Sportsthink. Take that, Tommy Lasorda!

By now you've probably surmised the reason for my ambivalence: I should have written that damn book. (Yes, another one. And I gotta be honest, based on the synopsis/reviews I've seen, my book would've been even broader and richer.) It isn't for lack of trying. As long ago as 1995—which is to say, a full decade before SHAM—I was harassing my (then) agent to circulate a proposal for a book to be titled "The Thinking Man's Guide to Sports." I would've even been willing to make it PC by changing Man's to Person's. Alas, my agent felt that the concept was too "airy" and "contrarian" to make a meaningful dent in the market for sports books; he said I'd end up pissing off (or, maybe worse, boring the crap out of) the very demographic such a book depends on in order to sell enough copies to justify a decent advance. He said that the cliches and mythologies, however factually nonsensical, are part and parcel of what the average fan loves about sports. (Sound familiar? Remind you at all of the hope/Happyism crowd?) He summed up his position thusly: "People don't want to have to think that hard about it. They just want to watch and enjoy."

A few years later I floated the idea to my bosses at Rodale (who had to approve budget for each new book idea). They're no longer with the company, but wherever they are, they're still laughing. Shortly thereafter I took up the idea with ESPN editor John Papanek, asking if he'd be interested in an extended feature on the subject, or ideally a series of them, organized sport by sport. He shot me down using pretty much the same reasoning as my agent. I ended up writing a series of articles for America West, the eponymous airline mag—I don't think it exists any longer—and a somewhat more scholarly treatment for Psychology Today that evolved into my SHAM chapter on Sportsthink.

I guess I can console myself with the notion that I was way ahead of my time, huh? Too bad consoling notions won't pay for new cars or roof repairs....

Disservice journalism? (Warning: Long rant ahead.)

Gawker's relevation that superstar editor and face-of-the-brand Dave Zinczenko has been "plagiarizing" material from other Men's Health writers and then presenting it as his own is really no great revelation at all. Eons ago in SHAM, I wrote generally about Rodale's fondness for "repurposing," as it's known throughout the self-help realm (and, in fairness, many other contemporary realms as well). I've explained in detail my problem with repurposing, which in essence (and often in pointed fact) allows publishers of both books and magazines to sell to (naive? unsuspecting? gullible? forgetful? desperate?) buyers the same material under different titles and/or bylines over and over again.

There are other consumer settings where that might be called fraud.

This news, of course, comes on the heels of the revelation that Men's Health recycles its cover treatments and cover lines, sometimes almost verbatim. (Is Men's Health running out of ideas? Are there no new ideas in so-called "men's journalism"? Hardly. I could provide many such new ideas; that is in fact what I explicitly offered to do, and assumed I'd been hired to do, back in 2000. And in the spirit of full disclosure, I'd still be willing to do that same job—find and develop truly original, meaningful ideas, provided I was left alone to do my thing—and I've said as much to Zinczenko and/or his minions more than once. Needless to say, they're not interested. I don't really blame them. I'm an effin pain in the ass, and I don't see things the way most other people do.)

More troubling to me at the moment, however, is Rodale's Clintonesque defense of its practices. Here's the key line from that statement:

"The byline doesn't take credit for the work, but serves as an overarching tag."

First of all—how shall we put this?—GAG ME. An "overarching tag"? I'm sorry, but a byline is not an overarching tag. It is a byline. If you want an overarching tag, say something like "From the Editors of Men's Health." Because when you write "by David Zinczenko," a reasonable consumer would infer (and has a right to infer) that the content was conceived and, well, written by one David Zinczenko. I could be wrong, but I think that's what the by in byline means.

But beyond that, I'm deeply troubled by what Rodale's answer says about writing, and authorship, and the ongoing denaturing and devaluation of same. Rodale makes clear through its answer that the company is indeed trying to change what the by in byline means.

We do need a disclaimer here: Understand that this isn't a matter of legality, at least insofar as Rodale's (mis)use of authors' names. Copyright law is settled and unambiguous: When a writer works for a company and produces content as part of that employment, that content becomes a work-for-hire and its ownership resides solely and totally with the entity paying the tab—in this case, Rodale. But Jesus H. Christ, this isn't an internal brochure by Waste Management we're talking about! This isn't even some third-rate trade or fraternal publication. Men's Health is a major, category-leading consumer magazine. Major consumer magazines, in the tradition of Harper's and The New Yorker and even much-maligned Playboy, are supposed to value writers and the uniqueness of their writing. It's not just one huge editorial smorgasbord where all the words and bylines, and the wisdom and life-savvy represented therein, are freely interchangeable! Last year, on the occasion of being nominated for another National Magazine Award, Zinczenko wrote in a staff-wide email, in part, "Creating excellence across all channels is something only a great team ... can accomplish." Well then, create the excellence, dammit. And keep creating it anew. Don't just appropriate it from someone else and take the credit!

There is, or used to be, an implied covenant between writers and editors, and it said, in effect:

These aren't just your words on the page. They are your heart and mind and soul. They are the fruits of everything that has brought you to this point in time.

Respect, my ass. For reasons having to do principally with the disparity between (a) the vast number of people who want to call themselves writers, and (b) the relatively small number of decent jobs available, publishers today hold all the cards. Especially as the print industry continues to consolidate and contract. So if they like what you wrote so much that they want to slap their name on your words, tough noogies, pal. You do what they tell you to do or they find someone else.

It shouldn't be like that. Not even if the nominal subject matter is abs or the comparative nutrients found in different food groups. Style counts for something. Hell, experience counts for something: If I spent 20 years studying the subtleties of nutrition, why should you, Dave Zinczenko, or anyone else be allowed to pass off my expertise as your own?

The saddest part is that I've discussed this today with four other writers, and three of them took Rodale's side (or at least rationalized Rodale's attitude) based on pragmatism: Editors and publishers are in the position of power, we need them more than they need us, blah blah blah.

See, we've allowed ourselves to become like slaves in the old pre-Harper's Ferry South. We unhesitatingly, enthusiastically nod and bow and curtsy and shout "Yesss, Mass'uh!"—as we take it in the shorts time and again.

* I still say that it's improper and legally murky to repeatedly sell people things they've already bought.

'I say we need more sociopaths, because they know how to deal with other sociopaths!'

I do not understand the logic [sic] that goes: "If someone in that Tucson crowd had been carrying a gun, a great tragedy could've been avoided."

That doesn't work for me on any level, and I offer in evidence the following bullet points, as it were.

First of all, let's not forget that there was someone carrying a gun that day: Jared Loughner. Instead of adding yet another gun to the mix, why not work on eliminating both guns? If I say I intend to come to your party with a hand grenade, is the solution really to threaten that you'll have another guest come at me with a hand grenade of his own? Or is it preferable to ensure that no one has hand grenades?

Second, assuming the correctness of this entry, Arizona already has some of the more laissez-faire gun laws in the U.S. ... including a right-to-carry statute that, as of last summer, permitted any citizen over age 21 to freely carry concealed weapons. The fact that none of those people (except, again, Loughner) happened to be in the vicinity of Rep. Giffords' Congress on the Corner underscores the hit-or-miss nature of that supposed remedy.

But suppose one or more armed citizens had been at the shopping center. Loughner's behavior in the days leading up to the attack suggests strongly that he expected to die that morning. Ergo, as far as deterrent effect, merely encountering armed resistance from another citizen probably wouldn't have thrown him off his game. For all we know, that was part of his plan: going out in a blaze of glory in some apocalyptic gun battle. So let's follow that hypothetical scenario through, then, shall we? We now have (at least) two citizens exchanging gunfire. Instead of a shooting, we have a shootout. In the middle of a shopping center, on a Saturday morning. And remember, the odds that some private citizen just happened to be a sniper-qualified marksman who could shoot with cool deliberation, under those conditions, thereby dispatching his target with one well-placed slug ... Let's just say those odds are small. The death toll could easily have gone up, not down. Almost certainly one or more of the people who rushed and then subdued Loughner would have been felled by errant bullets.

Yet we have Arizona legislators who want college students carrying guns, too. I said this before, after V-Tech, but I am not among those who are cheered by the prospect of a phalanx of armed binge-drinkers wandering America's college campuses, high on a potent cocktail of booze and testosterone. To quote my observation at the time, "How many chest-thumping incidents that are now settled with a push and a shove, or maybe a few inept college-boy punches, would be solved instead, and irrevocably, with a 9-millimeter?"*

Finally, can we please stop all this "2nd Amendment!!" nonsense? I don't think the Framers intended the Amendment to be interpreted as it has by the gun lobby. But even if I'm wrong—even if ol' Thomas and ol' James and ol' Ben hoped everyone would someday have his own personal .454 Casull magnum, or maybe a Gatling tun—times change. The Framers also intended for their countrymen to own slaves; at minimum, they weren't sufficiently bothered by slavery to rule it out while crafting the Bill of Rights, which would've been the perfect time. Nor did they think women deserved the vote.

Laws exist to serve society, not the other way around.

* Again, I quote myself not because I think I'm brilliant, but because the quote is already written and says what I want to say.

Academically bereft?

Here and here are two accounts of a new study (in the form of a book out Tuesday) that I don't think will shock anyone ... certainly not anyone who's been reading this blog. Academically Adrift: Limited Learning on College Campuses suggests more formally what cynics have been saying informally for years: that a college degree signifies little about the knowledge of its holder, and that its true practical value is as an admission ticket to the workforce, period. According to Adrift's authors, Richard Arum and Josipa Roksa, today's college students spend the bulk of their time partying, screwing and orchestrating/coordinating the next upcoming episodes of same. Oh wait, I forgot: A fair number of underclassmen also participate in sports, music or another extracurricular activity. On average, the 2322 students in the study at the heart of the book devoted less than a fifth of their time to academics, against 51 percent given over to socializing and such. Unsurprisingly, then, "After four years, 36 percent of the students surveyed showed no significant gains" in the knowledge base and critical-thinking skills we (naively) tend to associate with college grads. How terribly comforting to parents who spend, also on average, $27,000 a year for their child's college education.

To me, however, the most telling aspect of all this is that despite the relatively low priority that students assign to the actual educational component of college life, they "earn," collectively, a 3.2 GPA. ... Can you spell "malignant grade inflation"? (I bet they can't.)

I'm rushed today, but I may have an addendum to this in days to come, and I certainly welcome comment in the meantime.

'And I also think...wait, there's loud knocking at the door...'

Once again this morning I find myself troubled by the extreme, albeit predictable, reactions to the Tucson killings in the way of policing free speech (or, more precisely, free expression). My morning paper informs me of two local individuals, one a school employee, who, since Tucson, have been "identified" as potential spree killers based on Facebook postings and the like. Both are now in custody. I'm sure that wherever you're reading this, newspapers and other news outlets in your market have featured similar stories over the past week.

I'll quote the passage from one such Facebook post that the school employee's supervisors (and then police officials) considered too disturbing to overlook. First you need a bit of background: After reading earlier posts from this individual, administrators had called him in for a little getting-to-know-you chat, where he must have sweet-talked them. Later he posted this:

"You should have been in the meeting with the admins today…boy was I full of BS. I even wrote out a whole plan of attack. … What if I did lose it. What if I came into the School with a gun. I could have…I have all the keys. I can get in any door…anywhere."

If? What if? Could have? I'm sorry, in my book those are musings that simply don't rise to the level of a "terroristic threat" (a slippery notion to begin with, especially when applied to moments of crisis in interpersonal relationships like marriages or friendships. As I've said more than once in this space, if such a statute were on the books when I was in high school, everybody I knew I would've been in Guantanamo). Now, is the above passage unsettling? Absolutely. Should the guy be fired for writing it? In this day and age, perhaps so. But lots of things are unsettling. Lots of people are unsettling. Have you been to New York recently? I was, just yesterday, and let me tell ya....

As I see it, a person is entitled to think and write like a wacko. Besides, what's "wacko" thinking, anyway? Yesterday as the wife and I were on our way to the funeral, we heard a radio ad, an enticement for listeners to invest in gold; it was every bit as alarmist as any of Jared Loughner's ramblings about "currency." In the scariest possible language, the ad segued from the banking crisis to the credit crisis to the foreclosure rate to the unemployment rate to the general instability of the U.S. financial infrastructure. Obviously I couldn't write down the exact copy, since at the time I was doing 65 on the Long Island Expressway, but I distinctly recall one particular line: "The government is printing funny money, not worth the paper it's printed on!"

Hmmm. So is that advertiser, whoever it was, inciting anarchy and insurrection? Is the advertiser insane? Speaking of anarchy, is the Michigan militia insane to believe that when the chips are down, the government won't be there to protect us, so they must prepare to protect their own families and loved ones?

As for word meanings and Jared Loughner's by-now-famously "insane" nihilist theories on same: Don't know about you, but I participated in many discussions in college philosophy classes that greatly resembled the kinds of exchanges Loughner is said to have had with teachers. Right on this blog we've encountered LGATs (e.g. here and here) that actively encourage their clients to take nothing in language at face value: to parse every word, reexamine every nuance, and even redefine familiar expressions for more personal utility. For that matter, we give some of civilian society's highest awards (and salaries) to physicists who argue, in essence, that something can be there and not there at the same time. Is that sane? Insane? Or just "enlightened"? (And let's not even get into the law of attraction. Or, for that matter, religion.)

Here's another question for you. What if it's ultimately decided by the powers-that-be that no one may henceforth use language that intimidates or even discomfits other people in any form. Aside from the impact such a statute would have on poetry, music and other art, let's think about what it would do to the would-be killers themselves. Would it "cure" them? Would it make them stop thinking scary things? Or would it just drive more of them underground, forcing them to plot out their mayhem in ironclad secrecy? Once people of true sinister intent* know you're on to them, they just switch tactics.

You don't really expect Al Qaida to come at us with box-cutters again, do you?

* i.e. in contrast to posers or those who just like to hear themselves talk ... which I think applies to a lot of the people who post crazy stuff on Facebook.

Score another one for the Grim Reaper.

Traveling to yet another funeral today. Of yet another person who died in her 60s. Friend of the family. Just didn't wake up Friday morning. (They say our generation will be the first that doesn't fare as well financially as its predecessor generation. I think the same will be true of longevity.)

You know, you reach a point in family life where you primarily see each other at funerals. The weddings, people sometimes go to and sometimes don't. But the funerals ... that's where the whole crowd reconvenes. Always the same cast of characters. Men in the same suits you remember from last time, women in some little something they bought special for the occasion.

The only thing that really changes is which one of you is in the casket.

'The bride shoots the cake...the bride shoots the cake...'

Ahh, the joys of small-town living! For a while now I've been meaning to comment on this sign, which I pass at least once or twice a week, but I never got around to it. So today I made a point of driving over there and snapping the cell-phone pic at left.

They always say you're not supposed to explain photos. ("If you have to explain it...") But I can't resist here. As you can clearly see, this is a venue for weddings and other catered affairs ... that also maintains a gun range on premises. You may not be able to read the line underneath "Pistol Range & Gun Shop," so I'll tell you what it says: "Lethal Weapons Training Center."

I suppose this is pragmatism at work. After all, in a small town, which this surely is, it's critical to use space wisely and efficiently. And let's face it, why bother having a separate wedding hall and pistol range when you can combine functions and get maximum, uh, bang for the buck? Besides, if the ceremony doesn't quite go as hoped for, and/or one of the principals realizes instantly that he/she made a terrible mistake ... it's nice to have a convenient Plan B handy.

Notice also the "Happy Birthday Jesus." Guess that about covers all the bases, no?

(Why do I get the feeling that Sarah Palin would just love it here.)

Why writers and editors are still necessary. Lesson 278.

"Joe Vitale is an explosive"?

But read the entire release. Was this, like, translated from English to Mandarin and back again?

Um, doesn't Nature also make...copperheads?

Another dim-witted instance of simplistic sloganeering re the "natural" craze:

I'm watching the 6 o'clock network news (yes, I'm the one) and there's an ad for V8's VFusion + Tea. Amid a scene of birds chirping and leaves gently cascading down into a verdant meadow, there's the following voiceover:

"Funny how Nature just knows how to make things that are good for us."

I guess that's supposed to pass for an inspirational, deeply philosophical line, a line that's sure to resonate among the target audience. (One faintly hears a chorus of weepy Wows from natural-food nuts coast to coast.) Of course, you get the same basic line of argument from the CAM crowd: We should use herbs and micronutrients because, well, that's what Nature gave us to work with. "Everything we need to keep us healthy is in Nature."

Is that so? Hmm. Last time I looked, spinal meningitis was "in Nature," no? And anthrax? And TB? And cancer? In fact, isn't it largely because we've taken up arms against Nature, with the likes of radiation and chemotherapy, that we're even able to manage some of the post-diagnosis survival gains that we see among today's patients, modest though such gains are? For that matter, did Nature give us hospitals? And Harvard Medical School? And Blue Cross?

I dunno. Maybe it's me.

I am special. Therefore I kill what irks me.

So I did a nationwide satellite-radio hook-up Wednesday night on the subject of the narcissism that fuels, or surely catalyzes, these violent outbursts we've been seeing of late, including, of course, last weekend's tragedy in Tucson. If you think about it, self-love has to play a key role in pushing people to act out in violent ways, especially in cases where they jeopardize the lives of not just their nominal targets but innocent bystanders as well. Yeah, part of it is guns, and part of it is the inflamed rhetoric, and part of it, perhaps, is the social maladroitness of a generation of kids for whom a booty-call sent via text-message qualifies as "intimacy." But ask yourself: Even with the availability of guns, and even with the strident, bellicose oratory one encounters in so many areas of postmodern life ... At the end of the day, what kind of person takes it upon himself to become The Solution, elevating his own need for emotional relief above everyone else's, even to the extent of assassinating a duly elected public official? This is a person who is saying, in effect, "I don't care how the electorate voted. They got it wrong. And I'm going to make it right." What kind of person does that?

Almost by definition, the answer is ... a narcissist. A person with a messianic view of his role in the social scheme.

Studies show that we in America have recently succeeded at producing several of the most narcissistic generations in (measurable) history. Psychology professor Robert Millman of Cornell Medical College put it this way in discussing the over-the-top, in-your-face antics of today's Hollywood elite: "The lack of empathy is eerie. They think they're right and that the desk clerk or whoever just didn't understand how important their needs were." As paraphrased in the article linked immediately above, Millman went on to explain that "narcissism leads to depression, isolation, rage and envy." But such problems clearly don't begin and end in Hollywood. I'm not going to rehash all of my feelings on self-esteem-based education here; anyone who's interested in catching up can browse the blog or simply read Chapter 10 in SHAM, which is devoted in its entirety to self-esteem and, in particular, its counterintuitive downside. (Plus, now we have the law of attraction, cornerstone concept of The Secret and derivative works, indoctrinating adults to believe that the beneficent Universe basically exists to meet your needs.)

Suffice it to say that when you train legions of our young people to think that they're Special! and Wonderful! and The Most Important Person on Earth! ... should we really be that surprised when some of the more unbalanced ones grow up and start to behave like it?

How to get a good job, in 10 easy, self-effacing, identity-denying steps!

As the holiday season recedes into memory (or it would, save for the budget-busting bills now arriving en masse) and we forge into the bountiful promise of the New Year, here are some tips on acing a job interview from our ever-helpful friends at AOL. Predictably, the advice unfolds as a list of "don'ts" that, in sum, deny just about every single element of individuality. My personal favorites are 3 (e.g., "have the body language as well as the facial gestures of a serious professional"), 5 (e.g., "In all interactional situations in professional life, you defer to the ones with the most power"), 7 (e.g., "Should [the company] invite you to assess [its] challenges, proceed with diplomacy"), and 9 ("you must speed read the environment and mirror how the players are behaving, ranging from their body language to their pace and volume when speaking").

To which I would add a few tips of my own:

1. If you have kids, and especially if you're a woman with kids, consider euthanizing them before your job search. After you do the deed, be sure to allow a reasonable amount of time to elapse so that the emotions aren't so fresh and near the surface. After all, you want to seem like an upbeat, positive team player.

2. Once you've whittled your list of prospect companies down to your ideal first choice, do some background research in order to find out whom you're apt to be interviewing with, and what he/she looks like, physically. Consider plastic surgery that will maximize your resemblance to him/her, inasmuch as research shows that we're more comfortable with people who "look like us." (NOTE: If you have several ideal prospects, have several surgeries in turn that enable you to look like your several interviewers. Just let yourself heal in between so that the scars aren't visible, because today's employers dislike imperfections.)

3. WARNING: R-RATED CONTENT (and probably puerile content at that, but it makes the point that needs making). When the interview is about to conclude, offer to suck the boss's dick on the way out; chalk it up to "employee engagement." (Bring along a nice dildo/vibe combo, too, in case the boss is female.) Assure your prospective employer that this is a one-time deal, however, since further, post-hiring intimacies might constitute the makings of the dreaded hostile environment.

I have other tips in mind, but I'm afraid they might sound a bit, well, over the top....

Folks, I'm sorry ... When you interview for a job, there should be one thing, and one thing only, on the table: How well can you do the job? All other factors are extraneous and irrelevant, or ought to be.* (Keep in mind that I'm putting my money where my mouth is: As it happens, for the first time in years I'm considering giving the 9-to-5 world the benefit of my talents; I refer to SHAMblog on all resumes and other materials, and I'm well aware that employers these days routinely check out a candidate's "online persona" before making hiring decisions.) For five years we've been talking in this space about self-help. What could be more central to that notion than the freedom to present yourself to the world as who you really are? So be yourself, dammit.

This goes back to a discussion we had a long time ago re Barry Bonds, Priscilla Presley and a transsexual teacher named Lily McBeth, of all people. Is the goal of self-help to turn you into a clone of everyone else who's (supposedly) "successful"? To incubate a nation of like-thinking, like-speaking, body-language-mirroring zombies? Is that really what all this is about? What's that you say? "You're talking about human nature here, Steve. That's just how it is. We hire people who look and act the part." Oh, is that so? I seem to recall that it used to be "human nature" for many companies to not hire blacks or women. We addressed that, didn't we? And it was "human nature" to specify "front-office appearance" in jobs that sought a knockout, big-breasted receptionist and wouldn't even consider anything less. And it was "human nature" to discriminate openly against older people or younger people or single mothers or gays. Seems to me we scotched all that, or at least we've been trying. These things are not human nature. They're socially ingrained. And they can be un-ingrained, too, as Steve Jobs and Bill Gates and others have shown in their own hiring practices ... at least once upon a time.

So if you're an employer who's reading this, let your employees be themselves. Is the work getting done? Is the company prospering? Then forget the rest of it. It's literally none of your goddamn business anyway.

* unless you just finished a 15-year stretch in Attica after killing your previous boss. And even then, I'm not so sure. When you've done your time, you've done your time.

A little slice of happy.

A number of "bootleg" versions of my Skeptic cover story on happiness seem to be appearing online all of a sudden, so I figured I might as well link to the one version that, to the best of my knowledge, is authorized. ... Um, happy reading...

Does this mean Christina Green's parents are suspects?

There are so many obvious facets of the Arizona shooting tragedy that are best left to others to cover—and that coverage has, of course, been wall-to-wall ever since the story broke. So I thought I'd highlight one element here on SHAMblog that isn't likely to receive any coverage elsewhere, but may in the end have the greatest (and most improbable) significance for law enforcement.

I invite you to watch this interview that appeared last night on Dateline. The interviewer is Lester Holt, and the subjects are the parents of 9-year-old Christina Taylor Green, who, as everyone knows by now, was the youngest victim. I don't want to provide too much framing, because I don't want to influence your natural reactions to the video. Suffice it to say that I think you'll be a bit—surprised—by their demeanor.

I hope readers don't think I'm being disrespectful here, or dancing on any graves; certainly that is not my intent. But I couldn't let this opportunity pass, because the Green interview is directly related to a major issue, and an area of the justice system that needs a complete rethinking. (If you have any level of interest in this topic, please look at the prior item linked here, and also take a few moments to explore the internal links in its second graph.) This interview should be required watching for all juries in all homicide cases. And the truism that it underscores should be an explicit part of every judge's instructions to every jury. The simple fact is, people do not always react "the way you'd expect them to" when faced with a catastrophic loss. They may go to work as scheduled, they may go to parties, they may even go out looking to get laid. They may laugh or seem detached, casual and/or blase. The absence of the "expected" behaviors, or the presence of unexpected ones, should never be taken as a sign of guilt or complicity. Not unless one is also prepared to assume that Christina Taylor Green's parents were somehow involved in her murder.

And when his wife goes through the agony of chemo, a man really has no use for her.

Studies like this one bug the crap out of me. It's not so much that I dispute the findings of the Israeli research team, which appear valid, at least as far as they go. But what's the takeaway here? Sure, it's one thing if we're looking at the matter in tight focus, merely cataloging a biological or Darwinistically programmed response. I'm just concerned by the way this news is being spun. (Or maybe I'm paranoid because of all those TV ads that imply that we men come in three overlapping varieties: brutes, morons and/or sexual predators.)
All of the news reports I saw on the Israeli study incorporated the term turn-off, which, to me, has emotional overtones and connotations that go well beyond sexual uninterest. The coverage implies that a man actively dislikes when a woman cries—in the sense of being angry or disgusted with her—which I think is untrue*. At the very least, it's a major leap based on the mission and design of this study. (I don't know how much of that subtext was present in the study itself, which I haven't read.)

Notice the art used to illustrate the version of the story linked at the very top. It seems intended to project that this man has zero use for this woman if she's not up for sex. (And can we eschew the cynical wisecracks here? I'm sorry, gals: Most of us are slightly less one-dimensional than you like to suggest in your chatty lunchtime discussions at work.) His facial expression and body language are cold, aloof, disapproving. It's as if he's thinking, Dammit, woman, you're CRYING? Couldn't you wait till after I come?

Now I grant you, if this is someone you've just met, and she has asked you back to her place, and the clothes are off, and you've been going at it for a while, and she suddenly bursts into tears and turns away from you, as shown ... might there be a sudden flicker of consternation? Yes. Emanating instinctively and entirely from between your legs. Still, I know that if it were me in the scenario just described, I would not likely be stationed on the far side of the mattress, arms folded, looking pissed. And surely if it were my mate lying there crying, there would be no large patch of bed separating us. I'd be cradling her, comforting her (or trying, in my admittedly inept male way); I'd be saying things like, "What's wrong, honey? Talk to me..." I don't think I'm the only man who'd react like that. I dare say—with absolutely no evidence to back me up—I think the vast majority of men would react like that.

Instead of reporting from a point of view that fits the general narrative on men—we're boorish, callous, unfeeling pigs who care about just one thing—why does no one mention the possibility that when a woman is crying, sexual desire fades to the background as a man shifts into nurturer-and-protector mode?

* For the purposes of this post, we're pointedly not talking about the drama queen who cries constantly at provocations that people really shouldn't cry about once they're past the age of, say, 13. Even then, you have to have a modicum of sympathy for adults who have such little control over their emotions.

Stephen Colbert proves the existence of great satire.

It gets stupid at the end (as a lot of Colbert does, for my tastes), but before that there are some pretty funny moments.

They also believe that the Earth is indeed flat, and that reports to the contrary are proof of a government plot.

As if we needed further evidence of the effect ideological and emotional investment can have on one's perception of facts, there's this story from CNN re the ongoing Wakefield/autism scandal.

Once again I'm reminded of the Simpson jury alternate who told a TV interviewer that she wouldn't accept OJ's guilt even if there existed a video of him committing the crime. "Those things can be rigged," she said.

Riiiiiiiight.

I guess we should change 'No Country for Old Men' to 'No Nation...', huh?

I'm as annoyed as anyone about the decision to expunge from The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn the 219 instances of the word nigger—and don't even get me started on the idea of changing Injun Joe's name to Indian Joe. I guess next they'll change the title character's name to Burt Finn because Huck, after all, rhymes with fuck. But I'm surprised that so many observers seem, well, surprised. We didn't see this coming? After Dr. Laura and such? Has no one ever gritted his teeth through Mel Brooks' comedy classic Blazing Saddles as edited for AMC, TNT or (irony of ironies!) The Comedy Channel? The sanitized Saddles is only half as funny, but worse than that, it's sacrilegious. The first time I chanced upon the denatured version of that scene where Sheriff Bart makes his inaugural ride into Rock Ridge—and I realized that they'd crapped all over one of the top-5 funniest punch lines in the history of American cinema—I almost put my hoof through the TV screen.

Art is art, folks. It evokes a sense of time and place. It captures and conveys atmosphere, ethos, mood. It interprets and illuminates controversy. It challenges the status quo. You're not supposed to huck with that.

But there's a bigger point to be made. Here's a newsflash for you: People have an absolute right to be racists (and homophobes, and misogynists). Writers have a right to produce bigoted literature—not just Mark Twain in 1884 (although Twain was, of course, being satirical), but Joe Blow, today, in 2011. That's another thing that irks me about most of those who've attacked the decision to publish the sanitized Finn: They justify the book's offensive language based on the fact that it's an "iconic historical work" that "captures the feeling of a troubled time in American history." That's true, but it's a cop-out and, in a way, it's a counterproductive position. Twain, were he alive today, would have just as much right to produce a book in which he wrote without the irony, calling blacks niggers in his own authorial voice. And just in case the question is buzzing around your mind, yes, writers and filmmakers also have an absolute right to keep churning out material that portrays Italians as brutes and mobsters (or, conversely, the kinds of dim-witted bimbos and guidos who populate Jersey Shore), even though some Italians may take umbrage, and even though my grandkids' feelings might be hurt by such portrayals. (I'm not saying that's the case. I'm just saying, even if...)

This goes back to my abortive series on free speech, which was supposed to have at least three parts but, for reasons I can't quite recall, ended with part two. So I'm glad this Twain thing came up, because it brings to prominence an issue that needs to be discussed openly and "without preconditions." (And if you don't get the quoted reference, my-my; has it really been that long since the election cycle of 2009?) We do not at present have a right to discriminate against certain classes of people. But we do have a right to believe that certain people ought to be discriminated against. And we have a right to actively support legislation that discriminates against certain classes of people. We even have a right to argue for a constitutional amendment that repeals the 15th and 19th amendments, thus barring blacks and women from voting. To my mind, we have a right to argue pretty much anything we damn please ... and then that argument, whatever it is, gets sorted out in the marketplace of ideas. We run it up the flagpole. If no one salutes, so be it. If lots of people salute, we craft new legislation around it.

See, we need to recognize that laws are temporary and malleable. We tinker with the law all the time. We even tinker with the Constitution. Ergo, there should not be any penalties for espousing acts and policies that are, at the moment, illegal or even "immoral." Slavery was legal until America rose up and changed all that. Drinking (alcohol) was legal, then illegal, then legal again. Being gay and in the military was effectively illegal; now it's legal, or about to become so. We change our collective mind on the very largest matters of all. Abortion, which many still regard as murder, was illegal, then it became legal; who knows what will be the case in the future. Ditto capital punishment.

It is not, and should never be, illegal to believe and/or advocate "outrageous," "unconscionable" things. As a father and grandfather with four grandchildren, I detest pedophilia, as I suppose most Americans do. It is difficult for me to convey to you how strong that sentiment is. At the same time, I detest attempts to preemptively silence groups like NAMBLA. What are we so afraid of, that we can't even let them have their say?

I repeat: We are allowed to think the way we think, as long as we act in accordance with current law. I hope and pray* that we never lose sight of that distinction.

* I don't really pray, in the traditional sense, but it's a good idiomatic phrase.

Jagged little soundtracks?

While I'm on the subject of music I detest, another thing that majorly irks me nowadays is all these weepy, whiny Alanis Morissette/Avril Lavigne-inspired movie themes. Although, I think I'd like to retract the word inspired from the previous sentence, as that term has no connotative place in any description of the movie scores I'm thinking of.

Pull-eezz, directors and musical directors, mix in another genre now and then, 'K? I beg of you. No, I don't expect The Thomas Crown Affair (the McQueen original) or Mo' Better Blues (at least watch from 8:00 on; sooo hot), every time out, but it'd be nice to hear the credits roll to something that didn't sound like meercats being tortured in the background.

Happy New Year. And I am depre$$ed.

Last night, before succumbing to a world-class headache* that left me semi-conscious, draped over a love seat and altogether out of the New Year's Eve loop by 10:45, I caught a bit of Dick Clark's annual Times Square extravaganza, nowadays hosted by the ubiquitous Ryan Seacrest. (One pictures ol' Dick sitting off in a corner counting residuals between TIAs.) These fetes always feature live music, or a barely plausible excuse for same. And each year, as I listen to the plausible excuse of current vintage, I grow increasingly disconsolate.

What happened to music or, more precisely, musicality? Where are the people who can actually (a) sing and/or (b) play?

Before we go any farther, let's clear something up real fast. What you're about to read is not another cliched, nostalgic rant from some pathetic, barely sensate old fart who sits around in his stained and smelly recliner, gulping Vesicares by the handful as he pees into his Depends while insisting that Marciano could've beaten Iron Mike (as if!) and pining for the days of Glenn Miller or Elvis or the Beatles or even Springsteen. (The Boss couldn't sing, either, for the record.) I like to think I can separate my personal tastes from my grasp of aesthetics. And I pride myself on having never gotten stuck in a certain time period and grown stale, artistically. No, I'm talking about musicianship here, in whatever genre. I'm talking about originality and invention. I'm talking about the simple and pure ability to carry, or at least interpret, a tune. (Example: Jagger has a lousy voice, but was a great interpreter of the music he sang and played. Same with Tony Bennett.) I know what you're thinking: Salerno's a jazzophile. He's never going to find anything he likes or admires in pop music. For the record, here are some musicians from the pop/indie camps that I like and greatly admire: Stevie Wonder, Sting, Prince, Trent Reznor, Rob Zombie, Michael Jackson, the late Guru of Gang Starr, Robert Plant & LZ as a whole, Walter Becker/Steely Dan, Phil Collins (can't sing, but lots of musical talent), Redman (ditto), the Deftones as a group. Stevie Wonder gets my vote as the single most brilliant all-around musician to emerge from the pop realm in the 20th Century. Reznor is a close second: nowhere near Stevie for vocal talent, of course, but his musical instincts are scary-brilliant. The pickins since the world ended in Y2K are slim indeed. Alicia Keys is ... just OK. John Legend, on the other hand...yeegads. What an ironic name. And to think that he's bracketed as a "jazzy" singer. Bleccch. I find him unlistenable.

Anyway, suffice it to say no brilliance was on display last night. Before disappearing into merciful unconsciousness, I heard three performances, at least two of them described as "top-of-the-chart hits of 2010!" These performances were by Ke$ha (that's how she spells it), Train and, God help us, Will Smith's 10-year-old daughter, Willow. (And what is it with the name Willow! It's becoming the Jennifer of the 2000 set.) I was appalled. Just appalled. The songs were simple-minded and absurd (Soul Sister a bit less so, but hard on the ears anyway, possibly because I'm so sick of hearing it at the gym), the interpretations were dreadful—not a grace-note of musicality in the bunch—and the backgrounds/harmonies were of a caliber that any non-ADD-afflicted 9-year-old with a half-decent memory could master in perhaps a half-hour. These were the top hits of 2010. This is the music America likes. (Incidentally, Ke$ha, on her site, offers this invitation for fans to keep up with her tweets: "Twitter my a$$." Cla$$y gal, that Ke$ha. Too bad $he can't $ing.)

It occurs to me that all of pop music now is like advertising jingles. Think about top-40 radio. These songs that we uphold as our mega-hits could easily be radio jingles for McDonald's or Midas Muffler, with their pulsing, hummable melodies and their droning repetition of key phrases every 8 seconds or so. ("Gonna git me some, baaa-by... Oh yeahhh ... Gonna git me some, baaa-by ... Oh yeahhh ... Gonna ... ") This must explain why you seldom hear today's top-40 performers described as "artists." (Am I right? Who was the last...?) Even the promoters and producers who are banking millions off the efforts of these posers and buffoons are ashamed to use the term. Do you realize that it's impossible to write a parody of top-40 music that is any sillier than our friend Ke$ha's Tick Tock? Seriously. Give it a try. I defy you.

Of course, this is part of a larger syndrome that also plagues prime-time TV, movies and, ahem, literature. The movies and TV shows, too, are written and rendered on the level of an ad jingle, to appeal to an audience of giddy pubescent females who spend half their time chain-texting everyone they know and the other half worrying about when they're going to begin filling out their training bras so Josh will finally notice them. The literature is an exception. It's designed to appeal to somewhat older women who, though they may fill out their bras better, for the most part still think on the level of a pubescent female. (Do I sound bitter? No argument there. See title of post, above.)

And in footnote, here's something else that struck me funny about the whole Will/Willow Smith thing. I remember distinctly a Babwa Walters interview with Smith-the-father some years back in which he bemoaned the stereotypical black youth's tendency to talk in street slang, to elide the closing letters of words (e.g. "bruth-a"), etc. He emphasized the importance of speaking properly enunciated, syntactically correct English. He held himself up as a role model for these virtues, saying he was willing to take a stand on this even at the cost of losing street cred or being labeled a sell-out by some "in the community." Say what? Will, did you happen to hear your daughter singing [sic] last night? I guess this sell-out thing cuts both ways, huh?

No wonder I had a headache.

* Just FYI, I do not drink. The headaches are vestiges of my college football career back in the era of the head-slap. They come and go, sometimes with a bizarre and surreal predictability. When I'm in a "headache period," I'll get them, say, every afternoon at precisely 3:07.