Several years ago, I wrote a column about what were then freshly being called “low-information voters.” I scoffed at that fancy moniker and suggested a more appropriate name for these folks might simply be “dumbasses.”
“I write that line without fear of retribution,” I added smugly, “because dumbasses don’t read this column.”
Oops. Never let it be said that I don’t admit when I’m wrong.
Not only did (and do) dumbasses read this column, it’s also read by a lot of, well, smart-asses. My favorite response back then was from a woman who wrote in big letters on a piece of yellow legal paper: “That’s CRAP, buddy! I’m a dumbass and I read your stupid column.” It was a beautiful thing. Almost zen-like. I kept it in a desk drawer as inspiration for years.
This, of course, was back in the days when people wrote actual letters to the editor, mostly scrawled missives in blue or red ink — or pencil — crammed into envelopes with no return address. (The smarter ones tended to use actual typewriters.) The receptionist (remember receptionists?) loved dropping them on my desk and saying, “The red-ballpoint-pen guy is back!” I got a lot of hate-mail from dumbasses. So where are those guys now? Trolling the libs online, I guess. I sort of miss them, sometimes.
Actually, I miss a lot of things about those halcyon pre-Covid times, when the Flyer and Memphis Magazine were housed in an actual physical workplace: an old red-brick building with rusty metal stairs and a molasses elevator. (Take your choice, but don’t be in a hurry, either way.) There were offices with doors and furniture and posters on the walls, and cubicles with a black phone on every desk surrounded by staffers’ family pictures and silly PR tchotchkes. There was a copier, a break room with snack machines and a water cooler, and a parking lot, even — all the stuff that’s vanished for so many of us who’ve spent our careers in offices.
The “new” office-work world is six years old now. Sure, we still have a rented physical space where we go for meetings once a week (or whenever the spirit moves us), but it’s not the same as it was before the great diaspora. We’re all working at home, checking in on the Slack app every morning with emojis and cheery greetings. We still edit and write and share news tips (and silly Reddit stuff) and do a lot of actual, you know, journalism. We’re still professionals.
Slack is like a big day-long group text, and it’s essential and often fun, but there are no drinks after work. And how are you gonna gossip if no one’s in the break room starting rumors about Gary in ad sales? And who’s going to tell you “the scuttlebutt,” if there are no lunches where you find out things you “shouldn’t repeat.” (Except you always did.) It’s just not the same.
And then there are the Zoom meetings, where it’s like you and your co-workers (and the occasional pet) are on Hollywood Squares, sitting in little on-screen cubicles. The good news is you only have to wear nice clothes from the chest up. And your hair looks fine, trust me. Everyone’s looking at themselves, anyway. Again, it’s nice to see everyone and we’re all working hard, but it’s more difficult to build that old-school camaraderie. We actually manage to do so, though. I ain’t complaining. Much.
The closest thing to letters to the editor these days are online comments under our stories on the Flyer’s Facebook page. The commenters offer insults, praise, criticism, inanity, and occasional good suggestions. Regular commenters, internet gurus say, are a vital part of a healthy website. They are, for want of a better phrase, a self-selected “community.” The only drawback, of course, is when a flood of right-wing AI bots with fake Facebook accounts rolls in to trash an article their algorithms have flagged as “liberal.” Stuff happens. Delete, block. Bots aren’t even smart enough to be dumbasses.
Since this column is running in the Flyer’s annual “Best of Memphis” issue, I think it’s a good time to remind you that this little paper has been serving Memphis since 1989, through good times and bad, and all of us who work here thank all of you out there who support us — even the dumbasses. (Not you, of course!)
