Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Actually, Most Days

Just how intentional was the irony in the last two paragraphs of Tim Egan's lament about Joe the Plumber getting a book deal?

There was a time when I wanted to be like Sting, the singer, belting out, “Roxanne ...” I guess that’s why we have karaoke, for fantasy night. If only there was such a thing for failed plumbers, politicians or celebrities who think they can write.

Maureen Dowd is off today.

1 comment:

Grace Nearing said...

The idea that someone who stumbled into a sound bite can be published, and charge $24.95 for said words, makes so many real writers think the world is unfair.

I'm guessing that real writers already knew that the world is unfair.

The egalitarian part of me always holds out hope that a plumber could indeed be a political sage and a wonderful writer. One of the most extraordinary William Blake scholars I ever heard about was a middle-aged truck driver with a GED and absolutely no intention of going to college.

But my truck-driving Blake scholar is a rarity, and he differs from Joe the Plumber in that Blake has been his passion for decades. JTP just sort of ambled into the loopy vidclip of current events and, like every savvy American, is determined to make the most of it.