And then, one joke over the line:
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Dining Choices as We Get Older
A group of 40-year-old buddies discuss where they should meet for dinner. Finally it is agreed that they should meet at the Gausthof zum Lowen restaurant, because the waitress's there have low-cut blouses and nice breasts.
Ten years later, at 50 years of age, the group meets again, and once again they discuss where they should meet. Finally it is agreed that they should meet at the Gausthof zum Lowen, because the food there is very good and the wine selection is good also.
Ten years later, at 60 years of age, the group meets again, and once again they discuss where they should meet. Finally it is agreed that they should meet at the Gausthof zum Lowen, because they can eat there in peace and quiet, and the restaurant is smoke free.
Ten years later, at 70 years of age, the group meets again, and once again they discuss where they should meet. Finally it is agreed that they should meet at the Gausthof zum Lowen, because the restaurant is wheelchair accessible, and they even have an elevator.
Ten years later, at 80 years of age, the group meets again, and once again they discuss where they should meet. Finally it is agreed that they should meet at the Gausthof zum Lowen, because that would be a great idea, since they have never been there before.
Grooooan. There goes that evil ageism. Most of the old-people jokes I get are sent by my contemporaries. A guy I used to know said that old is ten years older than you are. I have a friend who is 86 or 87. He is engaged with life, has friends and a dog that is dear to him, plays cards and wins, likes the company of family members (but not too damn much of it), fishes, cooks and eats with pleasure and drinks a little vino with his meals, and has considered opinions about the world. He's my hero, and I want to be him when I grow up.
Then, a nameless soul still mired in the morass at the Vicad sends along a piece in the Miami Herald on the problems of copy-editing as experienced at that paper: 'Today's copy editors are multitaskers who design pages, pick wire stories and process them for the Web -- all in addition to the traditional duties of line-editing, trimming to perfectly fill space and writing headlines.' Civilians don't understand how much work is done by the paper's copy editors. Read all that piece here. Copy editors are almost completely anonymous. You'll seldom read the names of copy editors, but good ones can shortstop a world of blunders and make smooth reading out of ragged writing. Unfortunately, bad ones can put in more errors than they excise, put misleading headlines on stories, or cut stories in a way that confuses the reader, even if the stories were written clearly.
7 comments:
The group of papers I work for consider us "Design Editors". We aren't supposed to copy edit. Yet, day after day, week after week, we find ourselves rewriting headlines, editing copy and of course making sure no one is accusing anyone in the police blotter. (This has caused a few problems quite a few times, when a quirky editor thought it would be fun to write cutesy headlines about crimes.)
There is one editor that has insisted on putting my name in the staff box. It was a wonderful gesture. The public doesn't know the calls, texts, IM's that go on when working on these papers. Our universal desk is miles away from each cluster of papers.
Thanks for shedding some light on us deskers. I can't even believe I'm a desker.
While I tend to agree with the concept generally held is that "old" is someone ten years our senior, I must say that I am eternally grateful that a young dear friend of mine doesn't see it that way. It warms my heart to see someone who understands the true nature of journalism and editing, offer such an accurate assessment of the current state of the art. It pains me to look at the local daily rag, and upon perusing the staff directory, see how loosely the word "editor" is used as a suffix when offering up the job descriptions of a multitude of people who write and apparently are content to read at a grade school level.......
When I was in college, I explored the joys of music (along with other mind-alterating means.) At a very young age of barely eighteen, I would go to coffee houses to listen to acoustic sets and low and behold who was there but Brewer and Shipley. They were raggedy, cute and I liked their music.
Forward just a few years later and another friend of mine was good buddies with them, so we spent many weekends with them and their families. Simple folks, good music and different experiences for me.
Thanks for sparking that ember of memory for me.
Oh, Loon--that is hysterical! It's kind of like hearing your Granny using dirty street slang without having a clue as to the usual meaning. Funny, funny stuff.
The joke was equally amusing, and closer to the truth every day, unfortunately.
Okay, the singing on Lawrence was really funny; however, what Mr. Welk calls the song is priceless. A modern spiritual song.???
I then went to the original Brewer and Shipley and it caused me to have a real wave of nostalia. Or maybe it's just hunger, 'cause I do smell breakfast from the kitchen.
I know what you mean, I never would have seen myself as a desker in a million years!
wenzels - Y'all must have fallen right into married routines if you're looking at obscure blogs at 10:15 on Sat night. Used to be that almost all copy editors were clapped-out old reporters, but these days some people copy-edit from the first moment and are valued for it. I sometimes think that work will sorta change you into a granny lady, maybe because nobody ever says a kind word about your work.
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