Bill O'Reilly, TV commentator, attempts to be a scholar in his new book, Killing Lincoln, but the text is so riddled with errors and inaccuracies that one of the bookstores at Ford's Theatre is refusing to carry it. Some of the most egregious errors include numerous references to Lincoln working in the Oval Office, which didn't even exist at the time he was president. (It was built decades later.) O'Reilly also gets his dates wrong several times, including the burning of the original Ford's Theatre, and repeats a theory dismissed long ago by true Lincoln historians that Secretary of War Edward Stanton was involved in the assassination plot. We won't mention the poor overall writing quality (O'Reilly has Lincoln "furl" his brow -- we presume he means "furrow." Unless he had a sail on a mast perched up there. Also, O'Reilly must have figured he is above the standard that all writers of research papers from 5th grade on up are expected to meet: he offers no direct citations for any of his assertions.
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I had a young student ask if I knew of any sentences that used every letter of the alphabet. And because I am a librarian, I was able to say, "Why yes, I do!" Then, of course, I proceeded to guide her to enlightenment on holalphabetic sentences, also known as pangrams. The most common example, known to graphic designers and typographers:
The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. However, there are some other, interesting possibilities: Waltz, bad nymph, for quick jigs vex. How piqued gymnasts can level six jumping razorback frogs. We promptly judged antique ivory buckles for the next prize. Sixty zippers were quickly picked from the woven jute bag. Jump by vow of quick, lazy strength in Oxford. Jackdaws love my big sphinx of quartz. Please note: I didn't say they had to make sense. Fairy tale world: the Seven Dwarves: Bashful, Doc, Dopey, Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy and Sneezy
Our world: GOP candidates: Huntsman, Paul, Perry, Gingrich, Romney, Bachman and Cain First graders love to read the dedication pages of books. They exhibit a wonderful curiosity about the who and the why and the how. And working with curious children is a fabulous way to keep one's own curiosity sparked... so the conversation I had the other day with a first grader about dedication pages and their purposes led me to dig into the background of dedication pages in some famous books we all know and (maybe) love... One of my favorite (dare I say my absolute favorite?!?!) novels is The Great Gatsby, which F. Scott Fitzgerald dedicated "Once again to Zelda." This was, of course, his wife, Zelda Sayre. Beautiful, but mentally unstable, she inspired him to literary heights and tormented, personal depths of despair. To say their love and Zelda and Scott their life together were tumultuous would be an understatement. It ended with him mired in alcoholism and her locked in the Highland Mental Hospital. Aaaaah, the writing life.... Then there is Ayn Rand. Recently, I noted that I have not read her doorstops--er, novels, but I did Frank and Ayn, then...Nathaniel now pick up Atlas Shrugged the other day at the library and gave its 1,000+ pages a glance. It's dedication reads: "To Frank O'Connor and Nathaniel Branden." Turns out these two gents were her husband and her lover. Well, alrighty then... moving along... From the sublime to the ridiculous... Jacqueline Susann dedicated her pot-boiler Valley of the Dolls to her poodle, Josephine, who had played a role in a previous book: "To Josephine, who sat at my feet, positive I was writing a sequel... but most of all to Irving." Irving, by the way, was her husband. So we know who came first in her life. I have already informed my cats that my next book will NOT be dedicated to them. It is amazing the information that one can find while doing research. While poking around the Internet for the last words of the famous departed, I happened upon other kinds of famous last words. Submitted for your approval:
"Louis Pasteur's theory of germs is ridiculous fiction". -- Pierre Pachet, Professor of Physiology at Toulouse, 1872 "This 'telephone' has too many shortcomings to be seriously considered as a means of communication. The device is inherently of no value to us." -- Western Union internal memo, 1876. "Heavier-than-air flying machines are impossible." -- Lord Kelvin, president, Royal Society, 1895 "Who the h*** wants to hear actors talk?" -- H.M. Warner, Warner Brothers, 1927 "We don't like their sound, and guitar music is on the way out." -- Decca Recording Co. rejecting the Beatles, 1962 "A cookie store is a bad idea. Besides, the market research reports say America likes crispy cookies, not soft and chewy cookies like you make." -- Response to Debbi Fields' idea of starting Mrs. Fields' Cookies. "Everything that can be invented has been invented." -- Charles H. Duell, Commissioner, U.S. Office of Patents, 1899. Well, that's the problem being famous... your last words are liable to recorded and reported for posterity. So you better plan on being intelligible and intelligent when the Grim Reaper calls. I think Steve Jobs missed the mark here -- or perhaps he is just emblematic of the current state of our ability to communicate. "Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow," leaves a lot to be desired. On the other hand, maybe he was seeing something incredible in the great beyond which rendered him virtually speechless. Like the fact that the battery on the just-released iPhone 4S couldn't last longer than a hail stone on a hot July afternoon. His relative incoherence led me to check out some last utterances from other famous departed, which I present for your inspection: John Adams, one of our Founding Fathers and intense rival of Thomas Jefferson (1735-1826) "Thomas Jefferson--still survives..." (uttered on July 4, 1826 -- yes, Independence Day. Note: Jefferson died on the same day.) Talk about passion that lasted a lifetime... While Adams complained about his rival, Thomas Jefferson (1743-1826) spoke thus: "Is it the Fourth?" Comedian Lou Costello (1906-1959) reportedly commented: "That was the best ice-cream soda I ever tasted." I do not know if he indeed ate an ice-cream soda immediately prior to dying, or if he was remembering a happy instance from the recent or distant past! I know that given my own love of ice cream, particularly Oberweis Dairy's Chocolate Marshmallow and Udderly Truffles flavors, I might very well whisper this upon my passing as well. Actor Errol Flynn (1909-1959): "I've had a hell of a lot of fun and I've enjoyed every minute of it." (Reportedly said shortly before his death.) Would that we all should be able to say as much looking death in the face! Economist and proponent of government fiscal and monetary interventions John Maynard Keynes (1883-1946): "I wish I'd drunk more champagne." (Oh, never let that be your dying wish: quaff the champagne now, while you can!) Writer Gertrude Stein (1874-1946): Just before she died, she asked, "What is the answer?' No answer came. She laughed and said, "In that case what is the question?" Then she died. Writer and renowned alcoholic Dylan Thomas (1914-1953): After a night of carousing at the White Horse Tavern in Manhattan: "I have just had eighteen whiskeys in a row. I do believe that is a record." I believe I will stick with the ice cream... My favorite, however, is the last utterance of Francisco "Pancho" Villa, renowned Mexican revolutionary (1878-1923): "Don't let it end like this. Tell them I said something."
'Curiouser and curiouser!' cried Alice (she was so much surprised, that for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English); Forgive me for feeling like Alice in Wonderland, but I was just perusing the strangest catalog from a company called MacKenzie-Childs. I have absolutely no idea how this gem found its way into my mailbox since I am not in the habit of purchasing $4,000 fireplace screens and $6,000 love seats. Is my zip code upscale??? Anyhow, it was definitely a trip through the looking-glass into the life of the 1% that the Occupy Wall Street movement is railing against. And I have come to the conclusion that the 1% must love checks and checkerboards. (Or at least, they must be "in" this season. But first, that $4,000 fireplace screen: What? No turtledoves???? From the "Espalier" collection, it includes 13 hand-crafted ceramic pears in the "Courtly Check," "Parchment Check," marble and harlequin patterns, hand-formed cast brass and four "petite Cheltenham vases" (pronounced 'vaaah-se,' I'm sure. To accessorize your fireplace screen and have a place to rest your 'aaaaah-ze,' you can purchase a "Courtly Check" Tuffet and/or a "Preposterous" Bench (their adjective, not mine.) A tuffet for your tush. Miss Muffet couldn't ask for something more hideous: those rampant checks, the red velveteen button and strange ball and chain fringe, but the price is right -- a steal at $1,025. I would agree that this bench is entirely preposterous with its faux marbling, checks, dots, gold leaf, wallpapers and that heinous glass-beaded fringe. But what's really preposterous? The price: $4,200! But wait, there's more! For only $19.99, oops, make that $99.99, you can get a Courtly Check fluted dinner plate. And for only $625 more, we'll throw in a Pièce de Résistance Tureen! It's a real piece, all right. There's more where that came from. Click if you want to check out more of the egregious ridiculosity. As for me, I'm saying ta-ta to the Mad Hatter, climbing back through the looking-glass and running off to join the Occupy movement. The latest edition of the J. Peterman Company catalog, Owner’s Manual No. 91, came over the transom the other day. For those of you who may not be familiar with The J. Peterman Company, it’s a retail company that sells clothing and fashion accessories primarily through catalogs and the Internet. It was launched with a travel and safari theme, featuring as its first product an original horseman’s duster. The classic J. Peterman duster The company expanded through offering unique lifestyle merchandise, which included reproductions of antique clothing and clothing worn in specific films (think The Maltese Falcon, Casablanca and Raiders of the Lost Ark). The catalogs use long copy to explain the products, often recounting elaborate stories of how the catalog writer came across the product, with sprinklings of literary embellishments. Also, the products are illustrated with artwork as opposed to photographs. "John Peterman" and Elaine Its unique, one might say slightly pretentious air, earned it a place in the Seinfeld TV series pantheon of parodies, when, from 1995 to 1998, the show parodied the owner and the company with a catalog-company businessman named J. Peterman, played by John O’Hurley. The Company went bankrupt in 1999 after it was purchased by the Paul Harris stores. But it was resurrected by the original owner, yes, his name is John Peterman, and is once again sending its hip, literate catalogs out into our increasing illiterate society. It’s just a wonderful example of a company that has used storytelling to set apart its products. Sure, the descriptions are silly; that’s why it became a running gag on Seinfeld. And that’s a huge part of its singular charm. Like the hand-drawn illustrations instead of actual photos. It rises above our generic, McDonald’s-on-every-strip-mall-intersection mentality. Some examples below: The New Mrs. Peel (description theirs): Vienna Leather Jacket "Emma Peel launches out of a box hedge, cartwheels down the gravel path, and knocks unsuspecting John Steed flat with a karate blow from her shapely foot, then stands astride him, smiling down wryly. Who says there was no intelligent television programming in the 1960s? Emma showed that a woman could be powerful, even dangerous, and all the more appealing for it. Her leather jacket summed up the intriguing idea so well, it set us thinking: why not issue something updated for today’s special agent?" Makes even the most unassuming mouse of a woman want to roar. Well done, Mr. Peterman. And for the man in the new Mrs. Peel's life (again, description theirs): "Parliament passes the national 20 mph speed limit, so the Auto Cycle Union (Britain’s premier motorcycle club) goes to the unrestricted Isle of Man and creates the Tourist Trophy races. The Mountain Circuit then was little more than a cart path across farm fields. They ran multiple laps, so the first rider out had to stop and open all the gates; the last one closed them. The lap record in 1922 was 55.62 mph. By 1939, it was 91 mph. Thanks in no small part to nerves of steel and jackets like this:" 1930s British Motorcycle Jacket Do I have any idea what the above copy refers to? Absolutely not. But this jacket looks smokin' hot. Okay, so it's that time of year when the catalogs start to pour over the transom in a cascade of glossy paper, reminding me that a thousand trees died to provide me with a good laugh. Trees who are about to die, we salute you. Where to begin... that is the question: the J. Peterman Company? Something called MacKenzie-Childs, a purveyor of outrageously overpriced ceramics and glassware? Isabella, with its "gifts for reawakening the spirit?" Or the ever-amusing American Girls catalog, which used to be sacred in my household, but now that my daughters have way outgrown its charms, is just for snicks-and-grins? Decisions, decisions. So let's go for the low-hanging fruit... American Girls. I confess to having a closet stacked with storage boxes of these dolls and their accessories (saving them for the grandkids, you know). My daughters found many hours of amusement playing with these lovely things, even into their adolescence, when they descended into mockery and condescension, which reached its ultimate expression in the creation of a monumental movie, appropriately entitled "The Tragedy," which starred their brace of dolls, a trio of the dolls' dogs, and the nefarious "Betty Loo," who was a doll of a doll (yes, a doll owned and played with by a doll). Don't ask - it's complicated. Looks too young to be retired Felicity Now I haven't perused one of these catalogs in years -- I find it hard to believe the company even found us here at our relatively new address, but to my shock, I discovered that my daughter's first American Girl doll, the original, Felicity Merriman from 1774, has been put out to pasture! And her historical compadres, Kirsten Larsen (Prairie Girl from 1854) and Samantha Parkington (Edwardian maiden from 1904) are also "archived," in the words of the American Girl Company, subsidiary of Mattel. Julie, love-child of the '70s? Instead we are now offered Julie Albright, a "fun-loving girl growing up in San Francisco during the seventies." Oh please, a hippie child in bell-bottoms replacing the redoubtable, pre-Revolutionary War girl? And what kinds of accessories will they be selling with her? Bongs and acid tabs? Okay, so this has nothing to do with writing and reading... but doesn't everything really have to do with writing and reading and being an informed citizen? This is outrageous!
Let him pay for his own #$%@#$%$ kidney transplant! |
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