GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #1025: A FINAL(ISH) WORD

 As you can probably guess, after spending this week gauging how much time I have upon getting home from work, I've decided to end Goodnight, Fuckers again. This time more or less permanently. I don't discount ever returning to my nightly column, but for now it's done. I just don't have the time to dedicate to it. I'm grateful for the chance to write 25 more of these things after the last time I thought it was over. Not bad. Not bad at all.

I'll probably do a Good Morning, Fuckers! on Sunday, but for the foreseeable future I'm going to pull back on that, too. It's not like I've got anything to report, anyway. I haven't written a word since I moved out of Joliet except for these GFs.

I hate to leave you all in the lurch with Maga still calling the shots, so I'll give you some final advice for dealing with them before I head out that door.

Ever see Unforgiven? Gene Hackman played Little Bill, who would probably have been Maga if he was around today. He's not exactly the villain of the piece, but he's a bad guy. And that's generally what Maga is. They're not exactly the villains, but they're pretty bad people. It's not entirely their fault. They're angry over perceived problems. Problems that really aren't problems, but they've been blown waaaaaaay out of proportion by the true villains of our story, Trump and his cronies. They think something is being taken away from them. They're right, but they're wrong about the grift. They have no idea that their freedoms are being taken away by the very people they think walk on water. It sucks that they've latched themselves onto these assholes, but the good news is, it means they can be turned back from the Dark Side. I probably sound a little crazy for that, but Luke was the only one who believed he could save his father, and he did. (Spoiler.)

Little Bill was certain he was the hero of his story. "I was building a house," he told William Munny, like that would make any difference. The Magas are equally certain that they're the heroes of our story. They think they're the good guys. They were generally good people until they got sucked into this whirlwind of shit.

If you find yourself in a conversation or, more likely, an argument with a Maga, the secret to getting through to them is to knock them off their talking points. These are things that they have memorized from listening to Fox News and Newsmax and their ilk. Take them by the hand and lead them away from that. Get them talking about something they absolutely have to rely on their own opinions for, something they have to think about and argue on their own, because they don't have anything in the memory banks. If you can get them there, you can cognitively rewire them a little. Get them to really think about the things they believe.

At the very least you can win the argument. At the most? You might be able to save Darth Vader.

As Hunter S. Thompson used to say, "OK for now." Thank you for reading all these years. Watch this space, as I will occasionally post something new. Not another GF, at least not for a very long time, but I'll have new stuff for you to look at from time to time. I love you all, even that one guy (you know who you are). Without you . . . well, I'd probably still have written all these GFs, but I wouldn't have felt quite so good about it.

Thank you all. Goodnight, fuckers.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #703: "FIRST YOU GOT TO COCK IT"

 

There's this great scene in Unforgiven. Hell, all the scenes are great, but there's one I think about a lot and how it's a lesson in gunfighting, but it can be applied to a lot of things in life. Little Bill and Beauchamp are discussing the fine art of killing people with guns (with guns) while a beaten and raw English Bob rests in the jail. The salient point of the scene is this: if you're trying to be the fastest, you will fail. Accuracy is more important than speed. Sure, you might fire first if you're trying to be fast, but you'll probably miss. If you take your time and go for accuracy, you will always hit your mark, and that is of paramount importance.

The reason I think of it is because not too long ago I found my old journalism textbook from when I was in college. This is the thing that made me think of Unforgiven:

I hope you can read that. It looked fine when I took the picture, but it looks kind of blurry here. It's late at night, anyway, so maybe it's just that my eyes are failing me. That's OK. They've been failing me since I had to get my first set of glasses in 3rd grade. Ethics in journalism made me think about how much the world has changed since I took that course and wrote as a journalist for the Leader. For reference, the year I'm talking about is early 2000, when the internet wasn't fucking everywhere and an integral part of one's life.

Our project for the semester was to find a part about Elmhurst that not a lot of people think about and write about that. Half-joking (but kinda serious) I said, "Latent bigotry." So my professor made it my assignment. I did research and found out that not all bigotry in Elmhurst is latent. On the one hand, there was a sign at a local park saying that the basketball court was meant for neighborhood kids only . . . because Black kids from Berkeley would walk down here and use it, thus invading the white neighborhood. The sign didn't say that part, but it was the latent part of "latent bigotry." Then I discovered that there were actual cross burnings on lawns not too far from where I used to play when I was a kid. A Black college student maybe ten years before my time at the college was harassed for dating a white woman, and his car was vandalized with the n-word keyed into it. That's the tip of the iceberg and not quite so latent.

My intent with the piece was to get my fellow Elmhurstians (is that a word?) to find that place inside of themselves, to look at their own actions (or lack thereof) and ask, "Am I racist? Do I do something that contributes to the bigotry of my community?" But the discovered intent was, "Holy shit, there are real full-blown racists here, and the community just lets that happen?" My lesson was this: no matter what you think is going on, it is your duty to print the truth. That's what ethics in journalism is about.

But the problem is, now that everyone gets their news from the internet, it's next to impossible to live up to journalistic ethics. Because the one thing that the internet values over all else is SPEED, not ACCURACY. Investigative journalism has taken a back seat because that shit takes time. You have to research. Talk to people. Look at all the angles. And so on.

But no, everyone wants to get the scoop, and if you get it wrong? Who cares? Just issue a correction that no one will ever read, and you're gold. I have my doubts that any online news site even has fact-checkers anymore. Maybe not even editors. It used to be that an editor had to go over the story, check everything out, make sure you can't get sued, and then (ONLY THEN) rack it up for print.

As a disclaimer, I feel it is necessary to note that even back then, when I was in college writing for the Leader, not everyone was ethical. Here's something that happened on a regular basis: newspapers printing shit they get off the AP without vetting it. Or even worse, printing press releases word for fucking word without a second thought as to accuracy. And then there were journalists who got fired for flat-out making stories up. And, going all the way back to the infancy of journalism, fighting with advertisers. If you write a story that an advertiser doesn't like, guess who's getting a kick in the ass? Hint: not the guy who pays for the paper's existence. But my point is, ethics in journalism used to be possible.

Now? I can't think of a single journalist with ethics. It doesn't help that on 24 hour news channels that opinions have taken the place of reporting. Almost every talking head you see is spouting an opinion as fact. And those who don't? They're pretty people reading things off a teleprompter. They've done none of the legwork.

That fucking sucks. I used to dream of being a Kolchak-type reporter (or, more to the point, a Spider Jerusalem-type reporter) dedicated to the truth at all costs. Worm out the evil pricks and reveal them to be what they really are and HAVE THE FACTS TO BACK IT UP. But no one wants that anymore.

It's too bad. It used to be that journalists like that kept the lying cocksuckers at bay, but without a watch dog, well, look around. See what I mean?

Here's an added bonus to tonight's GF, warning journalists about their own sexism:

I'm glad to say I currently pass the test, but I can't help but think that the general attitude of this is kinda sexist in and of itself. The textbook seems to assume that the journalist in question is a man . . .

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #178: AT THE RISK OF SOUNDING LIKE A TOOL . . .

All right. I know what I'm about to say is going to make me sound like a pretentious fuck. A self important prick. Maybe even a fuddy duddy. But here goes . . .


I need you all to stop referring to art as "content." Seriously. I don't generally refer to myself as an artist. I'm an entertainer. But at the same time the word "content" demeans us.


Look, I want to entertain people. I write crazy fucked up shit with the purpose of taking you away from your serious lives for at least ten minutes. Or twenty, if you're reading a few chapters of a bigger work. My secondary purpose is to say something important. I want to make people feel emotions, but for those who are looking for something deeper, you'll find it. Even crazy shit like "Monster Cock" means something. It's a criticism of our phallocentric society destroying us. But that's there only if you're looking for something.


Alan Moore once said that there should be some kind of purpose to everything you write, and he's right. Behind all the crazy shit that happens in my work there is always a point. If you want it, that is.


When you refer to art as content, you're reducing what we do. To put it another way, remember English Bob from UNFORGIVEN? He has a monologue about how if you tried to assassinate royalty, your hand would shake and you wouldn't be able to do it. But if you tried to assassinate a president . . . why not assassinate a president? I look at the difference between art and content the same way.


Content takes up time in your life. It's meaningless. It will give you a quick laugh, but then it's out of your system. Art is not that. It gives you something to think about. Maybe you get a laugh out of it, sure, but it means something. The best of art actually changes the world.


That movie you just saw? It's not content. That book you just read? Not content. That TV show you like? It's *probably* not content. Shit, even those YouTube videos you watch are probably art. I had a conversation with a friend about whether or not podcasts are art, and I think they are. To a degree.


Content takes up time. Art makes a difference. Stop confusing the two. This has been a public service announcement from a guy who probably spends too much time looking at the lint in his navel, but still.