There are two kinds of editors that drive me up the wall. The ones who take humor columns and slug the page with the word “Humor” as if the whole benighted readership needs it to be signposted, like look, this is a funny piece, so laugh and editors like that deserve to be made officers on special duty because that way, since OSDs do nothing of any worth ever anywhere, the newspaper is safe.
Then there are editors who bring out anniversary issues. This is a ghastly exercise and one can never understand why it is done. There is no call whatsoever to inflict upon the world a gross and hideous issue because it coincides with some meaningless year of your existence. But since it is mandatory conduct all editors labor under the illusion that their readers are hungrily awaiting this issue which is called “bumper”…now, that sort of gives you an idea of how cleverly original these editors believe they are, what with some of them saying “super special 128 page” issue (as if the standard 48 pages weren’t drivel enough).
While riding the crest of their brilliance such editors choose one of three methods of creating the anniversary issue. Each, they delude themselves, is a paean of praise to their genius. (Pause for mirth about here.)
In the first, they make a selection from their past issues and cobble what they call the “Best of the Past.” It is pathetic that they can fling the same tripe twice but it saves on paying writers and is the easiest way out. It never strikes them that no one cares about this stampede down Memory Lane (nauseating phrase taken from Editorial on Page 3) in which editor says, “We took a walk down Memory Lane and thought we would relive the past.” Why, why would you do that?
In the second, the editor gets 10 well-known writers to contribute on given subjects and that unholy crew usually covers the same gangsters who appear regularly.
Some editors also get testimonials from VIPs congratulating them on this milestone which is so tacky a thing to do you could cry. If you need testimonials from 11 VIPs and one obligatory common man inevitably called “P. Raj” or “Riaz P.” you should be in farming…plow indeed but not the fourth estate.
The final choice is to have a party for the event. Then put pages of drippy little pix of the affair with half the faces called “guests” because no one took their names down and who the heck can find out who they are now and what makes you think your readers (who weren’t invited) care a whistle in the wind if Tukku Bose and Akhtaruddin were seen chatting with Bunny whoever and the unidentified guest.
To make matters worse, editors then rip into their incandescent bag full of stupefying originality and call this page “Gala Nite.” For reasons no one has ever twigged spelling “night” wrong is indicative of some sort of party elitism in that everyone who is anyone was there. If there is a pix of a humor writer they will say “seen standing with humorist so and so.”
There you are again, they have to label it. You don’t read anyone being called leader writer or serious analyst or indepth OPINION thinker, but come to humor and slam, there it is.
PS: What if they print this column and mark the page “Humor.”
