Charles Bukowski, �Burning in Water, Drowning in Flame�
I�m pretty sure I�ve mentioned at one time or another that I used to do a lot of work at De Anza College for their student newspaper. The girlfriend and I actually met because the advisor for the paper saw her writing and obnoxious behavior and suggested she take a look at this site.
When we started dating, the same advisor said, �What have I done?�
Anyhoo, I heard about all the changes that have happened in that newsroom, and I was incensed. I know, there�s nothing more boring then some old bastard droning on about how lucky these little whippersnappers have it, but holy hell!
When I was Editor in Chief, we had four editors. Now they have four assistant editors. They have rows of iMac�s and scanners and Photoshop on a half-dozen computers, when we had to fight for time with the one computer that had Internet access. (It was a small fight, however, since there were only four of us, but still!)
They switched formats from a broadsheet that has the same size as The New York Times, to a tabloid format, which is the same size as The Weekly World News, and therefore easier to fill space. They don�t even have to do paste-up, an intricate process involving wax, razors, and a shitload of burned fingers. Instead, they just set up their screen and e-mail the entire newspaper, rather then how I had to find somebody with a car and drive it to Mountain View. They even moved the fucking newsroom so these fucking kids don�t have to walk five miles in the snow, uphill, both ways!
But the breaking point was the JACC tournament. JACC brought together community colleges from all over California and Nevada, expenses paid by the school. You got to meet some professional journalists and work in seminars on how to improve your writing. I�m always up for a road trip. I like learning about the craft of journalism. But the only damper on our trip was that the conference took place in Fresno.
Fucking FRESNO!
You know where these kids get to go now?!? Los Angeles!!!
Uh-uh. Fuck this. I worked my ass off at that paper back when you didn�t even get course credit for it. Mr. Sleepy and myself brought the much-needed credibility to the paper so it could afford all these iMacs. I�m getting a trip to L.A. out of these bastards.
I don�t even like L.A. but I like Fresno even less. Besides, The Girlfriend and I have spent every night together for the last two months, so I�m not about to let that streak be ruined!
So I�m back at De Anza while I wait to be rejected from Columbia University. It took two trips before I realized how glad I was to be through with that place. So they have more writers than I did. It just means more people who don�t know how to write, much less write a news story.
I�m a fan of the English language. I don�t like seeing it hurt and abused. I tried to intervene by taking over a copy editor position, and I had nightmares � actual nightmares � about one of the stories I was supposed to fix. Somebody who I�ve never met, but who is obviously Russian and learned to speak from the Boris Badanov School of Linguistics wrote this particular piece.
You tell me, how would you fix this sentence in what is supposed to be a news piece on heart disease:
�Now that you know little of disease, what am you to do with it?�
See what I mean about the Boris Badanov thing? If she ended that sentence with �dar-link� she would be the human incarnation of Natasha.
For the first time in my life, I would rather be reading shitty poetry than trying to fix news stories for a bunch of kids who are too in love with their own writing to take any constructive criticism.
And I just realized that with this review, I�m actually doing both.
Please kill me.
