Quillen’s Corner
by Martha Quillen
Language is a gift, extraordinary and wondrous, but unrestrained speech can be more aggravating than yowling cats. In fact, I suspect that if dogs and cats could talk, we would not regard them as nearly so adorable.
Given the gift of gab, our pets would probably end up living on the streets – after insisting: “You can’t tell me what to do.” Or whining: “Feed me now. Take me for a walk. I want my toy. I need out. I want in. Where do you think you’re going without me? If you really loved me, you would take me to the park every day.”
Talk is cheap and frequently counter-productive. That’s hardly news. Yet scads of presumably rational Americans (perhaps egged on by talk shows, shock jocks, reality television, stand-up comedians, Dr. Phil, and Simon Cowell) seem to have lost all perspective on the matter.
Constructive discussion entails thought, listening, reflection, deliberation, courtesy and honesty. Yet modern VIPs are often boldly duplicitous.
Joe the Plumber became a national celebrity by lying about his job and his income. Until they’re caught, philandering politicians routinely denounce adulterers. Anti-gay activists keep falling out of the closet, and Newt Gingrich supports family values. Such conduct would be laughable – if it wasn’t so exasperating.
Prevaricating is so standard, it inspires jokes. How can you tell when a lawyer is lying? He moves his lips. How can you tell when a politician is lying? He opens his mouth. Why was Diogenes looking for an honest man? None have ever been discovered.
Rather than offering anything new or appealing, politicians, advertisers, and local tourism councils merely tweak their copy.
Recently I saw an ad for a leading fertilizer with “insect protection.” Does that mean it protects aphids and bark beetles? No, of course not. It means the product includes a pesticide, but apparently it’s important to sound “green” this year.
They call it spin, re-branding, positioning, and marketing, but it’s actually deception. Is it fair? No. Is it right? No. Is it illegal? In some cases. But it’s not as cruel or blatant as identity theft, Ponzi schemes, phone fraud, burglary, bogus charities, fake investment schemes, or Wall Street.
And none of this is new. In its early days, America was billed as the land of opportunity, but newcomers soon found that the streets weren’t paved with gold and would-be employers tended to be parsimonious. So they launched their own enterprises – and some of them were questionable.
American history shows no shortage of outlaws, thieves, con men, and robber barons. In fact, we exalt them in print and on film – Patty Cannon, Jesse James, Belle Starr, Billy the Kid, Doc Holiday, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Boss Tweed, Jay Gould, the Dalton gang, Bonnie and Clyde, Dillinger, and Capone… Robbers, claim jumpers, and confidence men. Mobsters, youth gangs, and corrupt financiers.
Early Colorado was rife with fraudulent land schemes, salted mines, and worthless stocks. Salida’s early newspapers continuously eulogized wondrous mineral discoveries, but most of those mines produced almost nothing — besides overpriced shares.
Are things really worse today than they used to be?
Probably not.
And yet Americans seem to be more cynical than they once were.
It seems a little crazy when you think about what our forebears endured – poverty, slavery, plague, famine, revolution, and civil war — but we seem to be less hopeful than they were.
Modern Americans spurn optimism and openly disdain that old-fashioned “can do” spirit. Many of us seem to believe that our economy, environment, government, and personal circumstances can only get worse.
And the rest of us?
Well, I think maybe we are just too tired to imagine rallying.
Fraud, duplicity, and corruption are as old as time, but today there seems to be no escape from them. Everyday, a sea of bogus e-mails and faxes and pamphlets are sent out to irritate you. Telemarketers keep calling – and trying to cheat you. A deluge of fraudulent advertising is bouncing around the internet. Our radios, televisions, computer screens, news outlets, leaders, local officials, friends, neighbors and associates offer us a glut of warnings, worries and complaints.
Perhaps the biggest difference between us and our predecessors is how many communication devices we have. Salidans currently have access to phones, faxes, the internet, iPods, laptops, DVDs, countless radio stations, hundreds of television stations, live news from around the world, a boundless selection of music, movies, books, magazines, newspapers, plus on-line shopping, gambling, and erotica, and a constant supply of advertising. And with cell phones we can now send one another spoken messages, text messages, home movies, and photos. Having all of this is addictive, but it seems to be driving us into despair.
A mere thirty-five years ago, Colorado was full of rural towns with no television or radio reception, no big box stores, no ATMs, and no chain restaurants. They tended to be economically challenged, insular, and stultifying. School children didn’t have access to reference materials or orchestral music. Grocery stores didn’t carry exotic selections (like vegetables in the winter). The unanimous conclusion of merchandisers in a small town where we once shopped was “If we don’t have it, you don’t need it.”
Then that town got cable television, and a big box grocery store, and a place that sold lattes, and those glassy-eyed deer heads in the local bars and restaurants started disappearing. Before long there was no place to escape.
Communication is a gift; but we seem to have embraced too much of a good thing. There are televisions in the campgrounds, sound systems in the tents, cell phones on the trails… There’s a booklet of information with every appliance you buy, and a sea of tiny print to read with every transaction you make. And even when you leave your cell phone at home and go on a walk, you’re doubtlessly sorting out your schedule, rethinking your finances, or worrying about the government.
America’s politicians, cranks, critics, con men, advertisers, and entertainers are competing for your attention by producing a continuous stream of entreaties. They’re getting ruder, cruder, and sometimes even lewder to get you to listen. Their demands are clamorous, and your options are astounding. Yet there’s not one extra minute in a day.
In the past few decades, we’ve built a society with too many voices, too many choices, and too little leisure time to enjoy any of it.
Martha Quillen, former co-editor of Colorado Central, prefers her blackberries for breakfast.
