Carrie

A couple of weeks ago, Matt alerted me to a tweet from Erik Piepenburg, the senior producer for the theater section of NYTimes.com, asking to interview people who saw the original “Carrie” on Broadway and could prove it. Matt knew that in May 1988, my parents took my brother and me to see a preview of “Carrie”. Another couple was supposed to go with them, but they bailed, so my parents took us instead. After the show, I got my Playbill signed by Betty Buckley, Gene Anthony Ray, and Linzi Hateley, and it’s one of my prized possessions. I had no idea we would be some of the relatively few witnesses to a legendary Broadway flop.

Anyway, I contact Erik, and last week my parents and I went to the New York Times Building to be interviewed by Erik and photographed, along with my Playbill. A few months ago I watched Page One: Inside the New York Times, much of which takes place in the offices of the Times, so it was so cool to be able to visit in person. (Plus, I’m a New York Times junkie).

It was after 6 p.m. when we were there, so hardly anyone was around. While Erik interviewed my parents separately, I wandered around and saw the cubicles of Ben Brantley, Charles Isherwood, Patrick Healy, and Stephen Holden. I didn’t touch anything, of course. I just looked.

And now, the story is up, along with audio and photos of us. (We’re the second and third entries.) God, those are such nerdy photos of me. I should have adjusted my glasses and gotten a haircut and what the hell is that dot on my chin where I’m standing with my parents? Oh, well.

Dems, Attack!

I love this letter in the NY Times today:

To the Editor:

The Sherrod affair has unfortunately confirmed my suspicion of the Obama administration: it has no backbone.

The administration seems not to realize that American politics is a contact sport, not a cerebral exercise. An attack demands an immediate counterattack. Smearing Shirley Sherrod was an attack; firing her was not a counterattack, it was a misguided attempt at damage control.

The Democratic position on virtually every issue (including, or especially, the economy) is far stronger than the opposition’s, but the administration’s defense of its policies is tepid at best.

The Sherrod affair shows that the right keeps on attacking, even when it is wrong, and the left keeps on retreating, even when it is right. For this Democratic president and this Democratic Congress, this is not a formula for success.

Charles T. Grant
Minneapolis, July 22, 2010

A++++.

“The Sheen is Gone.”

There’s a stunning article in yesterday’s New York Times: “American Dream Is Elusive for New Generation.” From the headline, you think you’re going to get a heartfelt story about young people struggling to get by. But no:

After breakfast, his parents left for their jobs, and Scott Nicholson, alone in the house in this comfortable suburb west of Boston, went to his laptop in the living room. He had placed it on a small table that his mother had used for a vase of flowers until her unemployed son found himself reluctantly stuck at home.

The daily routine seldom varied. Mr. Nicholson, 24, a graduate of Colgate University, winner of a dean’s award for academic excellence, spent his mornings searching corporate Web sites for suitable job openings. When he found one, he mailed off a résumé and cover letter — four or five a week, week after week.

Over the last five months, only one job materialized. After several interviews, the Hanover Insurance Group in nearby Worcester offered to hire him as an associate claims adjuster, at $40,000 a year. But even before the formal offer, Mr. Nicholson had decided not to take the job.

Rather than waste early years in dead-end work, he reasoned, he would hold out for a corporate position that would draw on his college training and put him, as he sees it, on the bottom rungs of a career ladder.

Wow. Just wow. Sense of entitlement much?

It gets worse:

Scott Nicholson almost sidestepped the recession. His plan was to become a Marine Corps second lieutenant. He had spent the summer after his freshman year in “platoon leader” training. Last fall he passed the physical for officer training, and was told to report on Jan. 16.

If all had gone well, he would have emerged in 10 weeks as a second lieutenant, committed to a four-year enlistment. “I could have made a career out of the Marines,” Scott said, “and if I had come out in four years, I would have been incredibly prepared for the workplace.”

It was not to be. In early January, a Marine Corps doctor noticed that he had suffered from childhood asthma. He was washed out. “They finally told me I could reapply if I wanted to,” Scott said. “But the sheen was gone.”

“The sheen was gone.” Seriously? You decided against the Marines because “the sheen was gone”? Oh, Mary.

The article is baffling. “American Dream Is Elusive for New Generation”? Who titled this piece? Cry me a river. You get a job offer and you turn it down because you think it’s not good enough for you?

I really hope this piece was designed to go viral from disgusted readers passing it on to other people. Because if it’s not that… no. That’s really the only possibility. Right? The New York Times can’t be that out of touch. Could it?

I was reading the article and felt nothing but scorn for the guy. But then I decided to try and empathize. Not sympathize, but empathize. Is it necessarily his fault that he has the sense of entitlement he does? Or was he just raised that way? Twenty-four is adulthood, but not necessarily maturity. And it’s really none of my business what kind of job this guy takes.

Still… I think he’s going to regret being interviewed for a long, long time.

And after reading that article in concert with this one, I really wanted to throw things at my computer monitor this morning.

Family Newspaper

I love that a New York Times article that includes this:

There’s the first time he tried crack. (“The taste is like medicine, or cleaning fluid, but also a little sweet, like limes.”) The tryst with a taxi driver behind a 7-Eleven in Newark. (“What I want is the blurry oblivion of body-crashing sex.”) Or the time that his boyfriend, a downtown filmmaker who goes by the pseudonym Noah in the book, watches as Mr. Clegg smokes crack and has sex in a hotel room with a $400-an-hour Brazilian prostitute named Carlos. (“Shame, pleasure, care, and approval collide and the worst of the worst no longer seems so bad.”)

can also include this:

…Nick Flynn, author of a memoir whose graphic title cannot be published here.

Because, you know, it’s a family newspaper.

(The title? Another Bullshit Night in Suck City.)