Mallard Fillmore explained

Here, instead of a low-def flat-screen TV, we have the strip's main character, who is a duck (or, to be precise, a drake). I think the duck's name is "Mallard Fillmore"--which would make him an eponymous duck--and, according to King Features, he is a TV journalist.

Despite his given profession, Fillmore is rarely, if ever, seen engaging in camera work, sound checks, editing, interviewing, being on TV or sneering at newspaper journalists. And, despite his given name "Mallard," Fillmore's coloration suggests he is not a Mallard drake, but of some other breed. Cartoon colorists are notoriously undependable, but a good guess is that Fillmore is either an "American black" or a "black scotar." Scotars are Canadian (and therefore socialist) ducks. Since Fillmore's political views are decidedly anti-socialist, this might explain the self-loathing evident in this strip.

Here, Fillmore is imagining his youth as a student in one of the 13,000+ public school systems in the U.S. (say, for instance, Jefferson County Public Schools in Louisville, Kentucky). Now, in his youth, even though Fillmore was good at algebra, JCPS failed to recognize and nurture his mathematical genius as fully as he wished--and as it might have, if only sufficient funds had been available for it to run a decent gifted program or to offer AP courses.

As things were, the Kentucky Board of Education, still smarting from that whole "desegregation" thing, were convinced that public education is a communist plot, and agreed it was God's will to de-fund the county school systems--at least as much as possible without attracting federal attention. As a result, who knows how many innocent ducklings, woefully deprived like Fillmore of adequate governmental coddling and encouragement, were bitterly forced to become journalists and cartoonists instead of entering more useful professions?

The final panel is a clever jape at the expense of behind-the-curve scientists who, despite the efforts of their more quick-witted colleagues, continue to slow human progress with their failure to grasp concepts such as evolution, genetics, human sexuality and climatology.

Bravo!

On D.F. Wallace

An excerpt from an e-mail I sent to my friend Pat Kelly in Oaxaca:

David Foster Wallace, an author whom I both liked and disliked, committed suicide Friday. Now I kind of feel bad for talking shit about him all this time, although I'm almost 100 percent sure nothing I said had anything to do with his suicide. When I read Infinite Jest, I thought, "At last! An important literary work from a Midwestern author is getting some attention!" I hated the way fiction had become so New-Yorky and Ivy League. (To be honest, it's just really hard to compete with that sort of thing, so I always press for some kind of Western literary renaissance that doesn't have to do with those I Was a Teenage Polygamist tell-all shockers.)

Then I learned a little more about Wallace, and discovered that he was born in Ithaca and graduated from Cornell. And then, six months after I read Infinite Jest, I realized the book may not have been as important as I thought; it was less life-changing for me than the sense of personal accomplishment I felt in being able to slog through it, footnotes and all. Although, if you do decide to read any of his stuff, A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again is probably the most entertaining; Brief Interviews With Hideous Men is self-indulgent and reads like it was meant to impress fellow grad students. The Broom of the System is actually really good, although if you like that sort of thing, Chuck Palahnuik does it better. And, as far as I know, Palahnuik is still alive. So, enough of badmouthing dead authors.

Wallace feared sentimentality, and this was meant as a nonsentimental tribute. Now, I guess, it's time for me to feel guilty again.

Oh, That Liberal Media!

As far back as January 2007, MSNBC writer Tom Curry's mustache was twitching ecstatically at the jowly prospect of a McCain-Lieberman ticket. Curry's devotion to McCain is no secret; small wonder that today, with half his dream team in possession of the Republican nomination, Curry feels comfortable filing--seemingly with no qualms or ethical misgivings at all--such a breathtakingly biased story as this one.

Curry's story is clearly labeled as news, not op-ed, and his title at the network is "national affairs writer," not "columnist" or "opinion writer." This is no small quibble; the clear distinction between news and opinion is central to any discussion of ethical journalistic practice.

Apart from Curry's introductory material, the story consists of quotes from members of one party dreaming up imaginative reasons that the opposing party's candidate might be considered unfit for office. Since it's a news article, naturally Curry made an attempt to get one or two quotes from the opposing camp, right?

Well, no. Curry didn't bother to run the traps; he left the story incomplete and padded the word count with additional, more-or-less identical, Republican quotes. But that's OK, right? Because, after all, he was just covering the RNC--no Democrats for miles around--and he went out of his way to mention a previous article: "Last week at the Democratic convention in Denver I spoke to delegates at a breakfast of the Iowa delegation."

OK, then. that must be where the journalistic integrity comes in. This is just part of a series--great idea, really--and in the companion article, he asked Democratic delegates to express their own juicy misgivings about McCain, no?

No. The DNC article consisted of quotes from disgruntled Clinton loyalists and other Democrats caught off-guard by Curry's leading questions inviting them to explore their deep, subconscious fears about Obama's campaign. Hm. I'm beginning to detect a pattern here.

I must say, Curry's very good at capturing the imaginations of his interview subjects. Unfortunately, he's not so good at capturing their rational thoughts. His interview subjects read like people retelling last night's strange dream or describing their pet phobias. One imagines, however, that the moment some brainy expert starts babbling on about "research," "policy" or "facts," Curry's eyes glaze over until he murmurs a remote, "That's just great; thank you for your time." And there's another interview under his belt.

If Curry feels comfortable filing as "news" such transparent campaign literature as these stories, I fear for his soul.

C'mon, Tom. There must be an idealistic J-school student still locked inside you, isn't there? Remember how, as a young reporter, you swelled with pride at being part of America's venerable Fourth Estate? How you vowed always to remain objective and never sell out your loyalty, no matter how high the bid?

What happened to that young man, Tom? What happened to your idealism? What happened to your soul?