May 2006 Archives

I walked in and a chipper young lady offered to help me. I was relieved. "I need a present for a one-year-old boy. Do you have any recommendations?"
"Of course we do!" she chirped. "What is he into?"
I looked at her blankly for a while, while she widened her eyes at me expectantly. "Do one-year-olds have hobbies?" I asked, incredulously.
"Sure!" she replied.
"Uhmm, I guess it would have to be....eating and sleeping."

I'm sure I don't need to point out the obvious correlation here, right? I have the same interests as a toddler.

I heard some of these McSweeny's boys give a little talk a few months ago. I meant to write about it then, but I was too annoyed. It involved some sort of slide show or video, but was primarily a public navel-gazing session. Seriously, whimsy sucks. I don't want to hear a little story about chasing Yetis, or things you can do with the horns of a unicorn, or droll little anecdotes about the craft of writing, and the ways that one can possibly butcher all of the above.

It was like a prep school circle jerk, masturbatory frippery. A group of young men so convinced of their own intellectual superiority that they committed the worst sin imaginable--they weren't funny. Not even a little. And why are they all boys? Aren't there trust fund possessing girls out there who were made fun of in high school, that want to make snide quips that no one will understand? Honestly, I hate writers. I really do.