Joe Jackson Is Still Looking Sharp

by David Russo
by David Russo

In 1979 Joe Jackson released the album "Look Sharp" that included a song called Sunday Papers. It is among the rare pop songs that both sound great and are incredibly insightful. And it stands the test of time. For example:

If you want to know about the bishop and the actress
If you want to know how to be a star
If you want to know about the stains on the mattress
You can read it in the Sunday papers, Sunday papers

You could rework the lyrics to reflect this week’s Sunday paper in about five minutes. The sheer quantity of useless material, however, is not the most disturbing aspect of a Sunday paper. My years in New York City, where I became acquainted with the behemoth known as the Sunday New York Times (ST), revealed a bigger problem.

You learn early on in NYC that for a fair number of people reading the ST occupies something of a ritual status. Many spend remarkable amounts of time rummaging through it. I have no doubt that some are able to make such an activity worthwhile. They have a well-defined contextual framework – a philosophical map, as it were – they use to make sense out of what they find or seek inside.

For others, the ST is just a quagmire. It starts when they get the paper in the morning and continues well into the evening. They will spend part of the day eating, chatting, napping – whatever – but these are mere breaks in the ritual. You might hear them share various tidbits:

If you want to know about the gay politician
If you want to know how to drive your car
If you want to know about the new sex position
You can read it in the Sunday papers, read it in the Sunday papers

From time to time a story may even spark indignation. They might speak with passion of taking some action in response.

Brother's heading that way now I guess
He just read something made his face turn blue

If you asked later in the week about how their crusade was going, you might get something like: "Yeah, like I have time for the plight of the aboriginal Pygmies … any more beer left in the fridge?"

This behavior confounded me until I realized that these people had no consistent framework to guide their safaris into this morass of a paper. These are the kind of people who, when asked about their outlook on life, reply with the meaningless platitudes of what some call the American civic religion: trying to be a good person and doing the right thing.

They are in the unenviable position of perpetually shopping for a philosophical map. Given their ritual, the ST often provides the landscape for their search. But looking for the meaning of life in the ST is like trying to tell time by watching the second hand.

For those without such a map the ST – as do many Sunday papers – conveys a message something like this: "The world is an impossibly confusing gaggle of unconnected events. The answers to any of the truly important questions are anything you want them to be so we don’t even ask them anymore. We will try to provide as much information as possible to help you create your own personal universe." Joe put it this way:

Sunday papers don't ask no questions
Sunday papers don't get no lies
Sunday papers don't raise objection
Sunday papers don't got no eyes

When I first encountered the ST, I was astounded at the sheer size of the thing and knew instinctively that there was something wrong with this creature. This instinct, I am now convinced, was triggered by the obvious truth that a paper so big is inherently ridiculous. It would take eight hours’ sleep and a bowl of Wheaties to rebound just from flipping through the whole thing. Try to actively engage in reading and processing any significant portion of this monster and you are easily looking at six days of recovery time. This is precisely what the map shoppers are doing – and it is no wonder they find themselves completely overwhelmed.

This is why, for those with limited time for reflective thought and no consistent contextual framework, the Sunday paper ritual is a boondoggle of spectacular proportions. It should be avoided like the plague. Useful news can be found – and much more efficiently – in alternative sources.

So, what to do if you know people like this? While the core problem – their allegiance to nothing more than shallow platitudes – is beyond my scope here, liberating them from the Sunday paper is a worthy goal in and of itself. For casual acquaintances, invite them to an alternative media party where others who use good alternative media sources bring some of their favorites. (I am actually planning one.) At worst, most attending discover a good media source they were unaware of.

For close friends, attempt all appropriate and civil means to wean them off their ritual. If this fails, consider confiscating their Sunday papers and insist on providing a guided tour of alternative news sources. Trust that the strength of the friendship will let you get away with such obnoxious yet justifiable behavior.

If you are looking to get rid of any confiscated Sunday papers they are always welcome at my workplace. The worms used in my classroom for indoor composting require a moist bedding material in which they can go about their business. The educational prospects of a Sunday paper are never better than when it is wet and shredded.

November 4, 2003

David Russo [sends him mail] runs a small education business in New York City that teaches children to cook.

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