Bury the lede!

One of the many ways the Internet has turned media on its head (or hed) is that it buries the lead (or lede).

We'll get back to that in a moment, but first this:

For those who have never worked in editing -- good thinking! But also -- terms like "head" and "lead" are traditionally misspelled in the biz, because when marking editorial changes on proofs, it was important that instructions not be mistaken for text to be inserted. For example, say I was editing a big fat important newspaper. I look at the first pass of the front page, put together by the compositor, and I see that the headline has an error. The story is about a murder at a rival paper, and the header should say PEN IS IDENTIFIED AS MURDER WEAPON, but the typesetter left out the space after PEN. Whoopsie! So I write "Headline should have no space after pen." When it comes back it now says HEADLINE SHOULD HAVE NO SPACE AFTER PENIS IDENTIFIED AS MURDER WEAPON, because my compositor is a moron. Had I written "# on hed" or the like indicating where the space goes, my misspelled and abbreviated writing would not have been mistaken for text to be added. 

Okay, now: Burying the lede. We've all heard that news writing uses the so-called inverted pyramid, in which all the important information is put at the top, with less important info being filled in below, in rough order of importance. This was crucial in the heyday of newspapers, because stories were filed, edited, pasted, and ran within hours, and the news stories had to fit somewhere in the layout. If a story was running long, information of lesser importance could be snipped off without editing. So the lead paragraph (or lede) should have an outline of everything readers needed to know. In my hypothetical case it would be:

• A follow-up on the murder of [victim]
• Featuring our dirty loser rivals
• Police announced the victim died after being perforated with an actual pen
• Any suspects announced or arrests made

The "pen is mightier than the sword" joke can wait for the editorial page. 

If possible the headline and sub-headline would themselves convey crucial information, because that would interest readers and entice them to buy the paper to get the whole story. 

Now, though, it's all about the clicks. So the writers do their best not to give you any information in the header or even the first paragraph if they can avoid it. In fact, the longer they can keep you hunting for information, the longer you'll stay on the page and be exposed to the crappy ads from Temu et al. Take this one -- please:

The headline in the New York Post for this same news was "Jimmy Buffett, legendary ‘Margaritaville’ singer, dead at 76." Right there, you have the name, what happened, what he did, what he was best known for, and how old he was, in eight words. In the online story above you get no name except the news-magnet governor of Florida, "secret" to make it sound mysterious, and first of all "Billionaire," because flies love honey. But if you didn't know whom they were talking about, you'd have to dig around for a while in the story to find out. 

Maybe there's nothing wrong with it -- we all know that the Internet is all clickbait, all the time. It's the only way to make money. If that means resisting reporting the news rather than rushing out to report the news, well, that's our brave new dumb world. 

But it is yet another way the world has been turned upside down. News stories don't report, crazy people get the most attention, idiots are treated as geniuses, illegal immigrants get care while citizens get hosed, tobacco is bad but illicit drugs are A-OK, all official sources are liars, and nothing works well -- if it works at all. 

My grandparents would have thought aliens had taken over or something. Maybe they have! You wouldn't find out from the news sites.

A guy could get kilt.

Saw a fellow in church wearing a skirt yesterday. Of course it was not a skirt, but a kilt; it was plaid and had one of those crazy sideways/diagonal belts visible under his jacket. 

I suppose there was a time when you would always assume a bearded man in a skirt was a Scotsman of some sort. Now, however hirsute the chap may be, your first thought could be: It's a guy who thinks he's a girl. That just seems to be the going idea these days.

Looking way back, however, history had lots of men in skirt or "skort" outfits or the like. For example: 

Ancient Egypt: Everyone wore the shendyt, a skirt-like wraparound loincloth. Couldn't tell the girls from the guys by the clothes. I guess you could look at their chests.

Ancient Rome: Lots of long tunics, belted or not, or the toga virilis, a very manly, masculine sort of working toga, not a dress at all. Still no pants on the horizon. 

Greece, 6th century BC: First pants spotted. That is, not that they were decorated with spots; they emerged for use by horsemen around this time, as reported by Greeks. Eventually pants would become a land-office business. 

Scotsmen, 1700s: Started back up with the skirts early in the century. Theory has emerged that they just were waiting for someone to make a remark so they could kick some ass. 

Then we move into the modern era. Men in skirts included:

1950s: Scotsmen, Milton Berle

1960s: Scotsmen, normal men turned into Scotsmen by aliens

1970s: Scotsmen, Benny Hill

1980s: Scotsmen, New Wave bands, professional transvestites

2020s: Scotsmen, TikTok influencers, many others

I'm going to stick with pants, personally. No skirts for me. I look bad enough in shorts as it is. And considering what a hash I made of learning to play the recorder in grammar school, there is no way I can ever play the bagpipes. It would take an invasion by alien blancmanges to make that happen.

Is it that obvious?

 

Return of the UFOs.

I'm starting to get a sense that it's time for the UFOs to come back. They have a cultural moment every twenty to twenty-five years, and I think they're due. 

Why do I think so? Oh, they radioed me through my tinfoil hat. You should get one. It blocks the CIA but lets in the aliens alerts. Kind of a police radio for ETs. 

No, it's actually a couple of real things. For one, in the last twelve months I've had assignments for various books centering on space creatures, either nonfiction (such as, about Roswell or Area 51) or fiction (aliens-among-us stuff). Book publishers have their faults -- their many, many, many faults -- but they often are right up front with this stuff. Our cultural vampire phase and zombie phase came out of book series; the apocalypse phase too, and whenever we're in a mood for swashbuckling or historical drama you can bet it started on the bookshelves and went into movies and TV after. And I am seeing a ton of BEMs and LGMs and ETs and UFOs (or UAPs, as the navy calls them now) coming down the cultural chute. 

Don't count me among
the Little Green Men.

Usually there is a real-world prompt that gets things moving. I think the main one now is the Webb Space Telescope, which is getting people who like space stuff excited enough for it to spill over to the rest of us. Less so the talk of Mars missions and new missions to the moon. They are boosted by nationalism again with China and Europe and the US and others wanting a taste of space glory -- and nationalism is the only thing that got humans into space and on the moon, by the way -- but those goals keep being pushed off and seem less concrete. Webb goes live in July and we expect some amazing things.

Culturally, this means more X-Files type shows, maybe some ALFs or Mork and Mindys or My Favorite Martians, although undoubtedly the darker, grittier, versions. Our fictional aliens have been with us for decades, but I predict a strong resurgence of alien-themed cultural artifacts. I think a lot of it died down because the ubiquity of personal cameras in phones meant far fewer UFO sightings for a while, because tales of things that happened would have inevitably meant lots of pictures from various people. However, they're coming back. 

Here's where I would say "Keep watching the skies." Honestly, though, I am not convinced that there's ever going to be a useful workaround to the universal speed limit of light speed, so I think it's very unlikely we'll ever be visited by aliens. So instead I'll say "Keep watching the TV." That's where you'll see most of our visitors from outer space.  

And don't bother with the tinfoil hat. That was a joke. Tinfoil underwear, however, is very useful for stopping the FBI's omega rays that sap one's essence. 

The stalking robot.

Pity the fool who tries to lose weight in these times of plentiful sugar and more plentiful anxiety! And now technology is working against us. 

My favored supermarket had a big renovation last year, as I noted at the time, which still has me bollixed up. I still can't remember where they've hidden the bread. I must admit, though, the place does look refreshed and more in keeping with modern design. 

But they've introduced a stalker. 

This little robot roams about the store freely, lurking around corners, humming down the aisles, toting his little rack of candy to entice shoppers to treat themselves to chocolaty goodness. 

What the hell is it?

Well, they call it Smiley, according to a story in Progressive Grocer. 

Smiley, true to its name, features catchy tunes and dancing as it makes its rounds through the store offering treats for sale. Smiley uses the latest in self-driving technology to ensure safe operation and includes sanitation wipes to safeguard shoppers. This pilot was enabled by Mars Wrigley’s Launchpad program, a digital innovation program established in 2017. Launchpad focuses on innovating the ways in which Mars Wrigley markets and sells its iconic brand through meaningful partnerships with startups.

I haven't noticed any catchy tunes, but I have not gotten that close to Smiley. He'll sidle up and stop for a while, but he doesn't run straight up to customers -- he's more of your soft-sell type robot. 

But he can't fool me. This is a candy-wielding Dalek.

“As a Treats & Snacks category leader, we know that while trips to stores are becoming more focused and retailers are moving to more seamless in-store shopping experiences, shoppers still want to be surprised or indulge in impulse purchases,” said Matt Tice, director of grocery category leadership at Mars Wrigley. “Introducing innovative solutions like Smiley will help retailers shake up traditional merchandising, improve their consumers’ shopping experience and drive sales.”

The short-term goal is to move more Snickers and make more money. The long-term goal? To exterminate through sugar! Diabetes, hypertension, heart disease, stroke -- Smiley is just a soft-sell killer robot! 

Next time I see him I'm going to interrogate him through his little touchscreen. What planet is he from? Mars? Hell, he's literally a creature from Mars -- Mars Wrigley! Here to kill us... with kindness! 

I'm going to get some answers. And one of those Snickers. Hey, you can't interrogate properly when you're hungry.

Big Amphibian is watching.

Are the frogs taking over?

No doubt.

"I know this looks a little strange, officer, but I assure you there is a perfectly reasonable explanation."

Mars needs baggage check.

AUGH! ust

August has never been my favorite month. I'm not sure that it's anyone's favorite. Maybe if you traditionally go to the lake house in August, or to Disney, or your birthday falls in August and you make it a big wingding, or the state fair comes along and you live for that, or you like sunstroke, then you'd love August the most.

When you're a kid, you can at least console yourself that it's not school time yet. Sure, your family went on vacation in July, and the Fourth is over, and the weather is uncomfortable, and you're bored, and all the movies you were looking forward to have opened and gone, and you had a fight with your friend, and your other friend went on a stupid trip to stupid Hershey without you, and you spent all your money... it's still better than school.

Of course it's worse when you're an adult. No time off and commuting through blazing sun to go to work, except for those days when you get thunderstorms and show up drenched. Or maybe you work outside, and get to enjoy the weather all damn day.

August in a nutshell:

🌞🌞🌞🌞⛈🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞⛈⛈🌞🌞🌞🌞⛈🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞⛈🌞🌞

Traditionally in the American newspaper game August was the Silly Season, because nothing much was going on and newspapers filled space with stories of bizarre happenings. People started to act crazy with the heat, so there were lots of bizarre happenings to report. Of course, thanks to the Internet and our sick, sad culture, every season is silly season now.

In C.M. Kornbluth's 1950 story "The Silly Season," Martians successfully invade the earth at this time of year because all reports of weird events are written off as goofy, nutty things people are saying because they've gone loopy in the summer heat. I always think of that story around this time of year.

Keep watching the skies. After all, if every season is now silly, the invasion could come anytime.

Actually, judging by many of the people I see around town and on the Internet, the Martians landed some time ago.

So enjoy your August, whether you have to work or go back to school before Labor Day (as in some sorry, benighted precincts) or not. If the summer is too hot, that lovely autumn air will feel that much better.

Mammals from Mars.

There's a squirrel on Mars!

As reported in that stalwart organ of honest reportage, England's Sunday Express, NASA followers spotted this small fuzzy squirrel-like rodent in a 2012 surface shot by the Curiosity Rover. In fact, this story is five years old, and I can't believe it's only now being brought to my attention.

Obviously there's a cover-up.

If you need more proof, just consider this:

• NASA stands for National Aeronautics and Space Administration, but it also stands for North American Squirrel Association. Coincidence?
• Some of the first animals in space included Gordo, Baker, and Goliath, all squirrel monkeys, and a Soviet dog named Belka... which is Russian for squirrel. 
• NASA admits that the Johnson Space Center is basically overrun with... you guessed it... squirrels: "The majority of wild animals onsite are much smaller. One of the most abundant groups is squirrels."

So it's clear there is some connection. 

Some questions remain, of course, despite this evidence:

1) Is this a photo of a native Martian creature? 

2) Was it an Earth squirrel shot up there by NASA... or abducted from Earth by aliens?

It was Dave Barry's blog that brought this story to my attention. Barry, of course, is a longtime chronicler of squirrels' war on humanity, and he and his commenters suggested more possible scenarios to this horrifying reality:

1) The squirrels have their own space program

2) The squirrels are in league with the Martians to enslave Earth

3) Squirrels are Martians and have been working against us this whole time, disguised as cute arboreal critters

All these possibilities are bad, but the solution is clear: We need more dogs. Dogs are not good at climbing, but sometimes these "squirrels" don't get away.

Keep alert, and keep watching the trees. The truth is up there.

Humans as masters, as pets.

I know it's not an original science fiction idea, but since we got Number One Dog I've occasionally wondered what it would be like as a human pet of superintelligent aliens, aliens who are as intellectually superior to us as we are to dogs. It's certainly a notion that has occurred to SF writers before.  But there are some real stumbling blocks to the idea:

1) If we were smart enough to know what those aliens were thinking and doing, we'd be them. A writer trying to create the situation would have to come up with things as baffling to us as, say, raking leaves, painting pictures, balancing checkbooks, or writing blogs are to animals. But for them to be inscrutable to humans they'd have to look like nonsense, which would make for a dull story. On the other hand, if they're just doing stuff we do in a smarter way---teleportation instead of driving---we'd easily grasp the reason, if not the method.

2) People aren't dogs. My dogs don't sit around and wonder why I wear clothes, let alone why I make them learn to heel. I would do that constantly as a pet of an alien creature. No matter how frustrating it was, I would keep thinking, trying to learn, trying to understand, because that's what we do. It makes us crazy sometimes, but we never stop. Dogs? Cats? Eh, not so much. They can figure out some things like how to turn on the light, or get up on the counter they're not allowed on, but that's because when their desires are directly affected, they can understand the easy, concrete cause and effect. They keep it simple. (I know, I know, YOUR cat is a Rhodes scholar, but I mean other normal cats, okay?)

3) This is also why stories narrated from the point of view of pets are pure fantasy. A cat is never going to solve a crime. He doesn't understand enough to know what a crime is. He wouldn't care if he did, as long as it didn't affect him. The smartest dog in the world is never going to think like the dumbest human, because their brains are different machines used in a different way. Animals are excellent at survival and certainly get up and at it faster than we do, but they have no imagination. (I began writing this yesterday, but this morning I see the Great Lileks went into the people vs. animals comparison at length.)

Although the dogs don't worry about why I do all the weird stuff I do, they sure aren't dummies. I think they definitely have some ideas about the things and people they encounter. For example, Number One Dog knows that when we're out in the yard and I am saddled with Number Two Dog on the leash, Number One can get away with more crap. He doesn't push the envelope, he shoves it, running into the neighbors' yard, peeing in prohibited areas, ignoring every call and sound effect I can produce. Basically he's always a little bit of a jerk outside, but he turns into a complete teenager when I have the kid. At times like that, he sees Daddy as:

On the other hand, when the kid is acting up inside and making a ruckus, it is sometimes asked of me that I put him in his pen or the crate. Like a toddler he gets overtired and becomes a brat. "Would you put him in the pen?" is the question I get asked more than any other, partly because as big as he is I can still manhandle him as needed. Since Mommy is the boss, you know what that makes me:

At times like that he sees me as the cheap muscle.

So our pets definitely have humanlike perceptions, and humanlike elements about them, as well as definite personality traits. (At least the mammals; I've had little experience with fish and reptiles.) But they're not humans.

Please do bear in mind that I'm a guy who makes cartoons about how my pets think, and when they sneeze I say gesundheit. So maybe I'm not a great one to write about this topic. I'd love to hear your thoughts. And if you know of any writers who actually have carried off the people-as-pets idea well, I'd like to know.

HP, phone home.

Our HP wireless printer/copier/fax is a handy piece of office machinery, and is used almost every day.

No, not just for printing pictures of the dog!

Sometimes I go to coupons.com too.

But the printer is not without its flaws. Some days it decides it is a teenager, and refuses to connect with the rest of the family. Its screen shows that it is connected to the network; you can reboot its connection (at which time it huffily asks why, since it is already connected, Dad!), and it still remains unconnected. You have to reboot the modem and router and sometimes unplug the cable from the wall for a period of three minutes or more before it will come out and play.

Every time that happens -- or I got to buy toner -- I look at the thing and say, "This is why Carly Fiorina is on the golf course instead of out in front in the presidential race."

Yesterday it demanded a blank sheet of paper for a self-diagnostic, and produced this:

What the hell is that supposed to be? I've had printers produce still-lifes with fruit as frame-quality art for a self-test. But this?

It can only be... some kind of alien message!

Probably just some bizarre means of testing the printer heads or whatever they have in there. So, most likely not anything alien-related.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to brush up on my alien languages, just in case.

They're out there.

They don't tell you this, but people are not generally abducted by aliens. Actually the aliens hypnotize people, using their fiendish mind-control powers to make people self-abduct. One day you're sitting at home, minding your own business. Then the phone rings.

Next thing you know, you're in a sterile white room without your clothes, wondering how you got there. 

The creature was large, round, a strange and wild looking thing with hair on its nose, nothing at all like the depilated bubbleheads one usually sees in science fiction. It attempted to speak English, but I could not understand much of what it said. Perhaps they form language differently where it comes from, rather than with mouth and air. Still, you have to appreciate the effort. 

Even if the alien did not look like what I'd heard, the rest of my encounter of the fourth kind was right on target. Prodding. Light rays. Electric things. Probes. Anal probes. All the while I was as docile and helpless as a baby. Must have been the mind control. 

I was released eventually, finding myself in the middle of town. Thank heaven my clothes had been restored. On the whole it was a horrifying experience, and I'm stocking up on my Reynolds Wrap headgear. 

What really made me mad is the bill I got for the blood test and the the copay. 

Signs.

Strange symbols appearing on the street:

My neighbor thought this meant they were going to tear up the road to go after the sewer lines, so we would have weeks of open sewers and no street. But I know better.

Aliens.

That's right: Landing instructions for the little green men. (They really are little and green, according to my secret UFOlogy connections. I'm not trying to be sexist here---they really are all men when they go on off-planet missions, but once home they can change back to one of their three primary genders: Male, Female, and Caitlyn.)

How do I know all this? My connections keep an eye on the spies planted by the little green men, the spies who go around painting landing instructions on quiet suburban streets, that's how.

I don't know too much more about the aliens, except that they intend to subdue us, have spent a lot of time on our planet, and they are said to be in control of all our major colleges and universities---which would explain a lot. I also have reason to believe these strange creatures are in control of the following:

• the We network
• Amway
• the Presbyterians
• Luxembourg 
• the zinc trade
• most U.S. Laundromats
• Kim Jong-un
• the Academy Awards
• Portland (both of them; actually pretty much anyplace named Portland)
• Hillary Clinton's e-mail server
• the weather

If you think about it, it answers a lot of strange and mysterious questions. Why is The Simpsons still on the air? Aliens. What happened to all the bowling alleys? Aliens. The popularity of soccer? Aliens. The EU not falling into smithereens? Aliens. Trump? Aliens. Missing socks in the wash? Do I even have to say it?

The little green men, by the way, have a terrible weakness for Easy Cheese, so carry a can with you at all times. Keep an eye out for mysterious markings on the street, and keep watching the skies.