Published December 09, 1999
Note: This particular column was intended to be funny. Enjoy!
It occurred to me recently that I've never intentionally written a humorous column, although I have received several letters from readers who have said they fall over laughing every time they read my work. It further occurred to me that I usually keep the irony to a minimum, that I rarely mention popular campus figures and that I spend an unnecessarily large percentage of each column trying to establish credibility before stating my opinions. And so, after recognizing that I repeatedly fall into these same patterns of column writing, I was forced to ask myself one simple question: Is that style truly an effective means by which to establish the undying adoration of countless IDS readers?
I think I can safely say every columnist has only one true goal: To receive as much praise as is humanly possible from every literate human being possessing a copy of their newspaper. The myth that columnists are out to educate, enlighten or surprise their readers is a helpful one for maintaining the existence of the occupation, but it's really cool to see your picture in the paper every week. That's why we only ever write about fluffy, non-controversial things like politics or religion; that way, no one gets offended when you criticize something they care about, like their favorite band or movie.
No columnist wants to be stuck studying ancient Greek on a Friday night; we wouldn't be columnists if we were that concerned about academics. Instead, columnists want to be followed around from place to place with about a dozen deeply committed followers and 70 random groupies that would do anything for an autograph. Columnists want to be the heroes of a modern world; most of us think that we're cooler than college athletes and should get lots more dates.
This is what every columnist wants and this is what most of them seem to have. Yet, somewhere along the line, I took a wrong turn. I'm just not getting my quota of fame and popularity from this position. There are no screaming hordes of young freshman girls following me around as I walk to class. Rarely am I told that I personally gave someone a new reason to live or that I should be put in charge of the government as absolute monarch because of my astonishing insight and high moral character. And the only time an e-mail has ever compared me to Antwaan Randle El, the author was a Purdue fan.
And so I began to ask myself where it all went wrong. Why have I not received my recognition as a cultural icon? Is it because my columns are so long that nobody bothers to read them all the way through? Is it that I have offended too many people by writing about topics like forgiveness and tolerance? Perhaps it is because I changed from Tuesdays to Thursdays earlier in the semester and lost my original devoted following; if I hadn't done that, I'd probably have so many lackeys I could have started my own church by now.
I was so confused about why I was not receiving the proper level of praise that I started asking around. At first, people seemed quite surprised by the question. Apparently, no one realized they were supposed to regard me as a living sage, worthy to be fawned over and coddled to for hours at a time. In fact, some of my closest friends seemed shocked that I now expect them to kiss my feet when I enter the room; apparently, they regard such behavior as a silly power trip rather than recognizing it as the respect due my position.
Recently, however, I was told straight out why it is that I am not receiving the honor I desire from scores of mimicking sycophants, and the moment I heard it, I knew it was the real reason. The truth is that all of you, my readers, are in awe of my sheer talent and intellect. I have moved to that place you reserve mainly for saints, professional wrestlers, and Sufi masters. I have achieved the prestige and general acclaim of a Reid Cox, an Angie Brunk or a Rush Limbaugh. You cannot dream of considering me a superstar any more than you could consider the Dalai Lama a movie star; you simply feel I am too amazing to be brought down to such a mundane level, that I could never really want your undying devotion.
But I assure you that I am not above such petty, shallow praise. In fact, I want to encourage everyone to write me as much fan mail as they feel like, especially any single, thin Catholic girls with long dark hair. We'll see if this job can't do something for my social life yet.
When Diversity Becomes Intolerant
Should I be your hero?
Updated Wednesday, 08-Dec-1999 22:50:44 EST
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Original Letter to the Editor