This Sunday, it’s a Double-Dose of George Thatcher! Enjoy and feel free to add your own comments below or share on Social Media. (He loves it when y’all do that!)
Hot Off the Presses
If you didn’t read the notice inserted in the Avalanche Journal recently, let me hasten to refresh your memory. It stated that, effective immediately, their new policy was to (1) eliminate the Op. Ed. page entirely, and (2) concentrate on local news Today’s headline news featured the announcement, complete with generous color photo, that the newest arrival to the Lubbock culinary scene will be: (Drumroll: Wait for it) ANOTHER ICE CREAM STORE!!! At last count there soon will be four such businesses on Milwaukee Ave. alone. Can you stand the rush? Overeaters Unanimous will have to hire tour buses so they can make all the stops in a single binge! The other major headline story was the scintillating news that a local resident intends to compete in a NATIONAL EATING CONTEST! Be still, my heart.
The point is that the AJ, surprisingly, is following through on a promise. Nowhere in the main news section of today’s paper was there any mention of national/international breaking (or ongoing) news. If today’s offering is going to be the norm, then we might as well be living in a news bubble, at least as far as print news of the outside world is concerned. In its infinite desperation, the AJ is literally inviting the readership to get its news elsewhere, and by the way, take your advertising business with you The rest of the media world is already dividing up the remnants of this once-lucrative business. If the wind should ever shift again, in favor of print media, how will they ever hope to regain the lost trust of a formerly loyal readership base?
So, a question to local business advertisers: Where are your ad bucks getting the most exposure, and how much less effective is
today’s newspaper, compared to the same medium from five years ago? And now, a shameless plug: Wouldn’t many of you be pleasantly surprised to find our how reasonable is the cost of advertising in, say, a website like TheRaiderland.com, and how much more exposure to your target market you could really get? Just asking but, hey, a little stroke for job security would even make an old staff writer smile..
When the Detroit Belchfire Industry died of its own excesses many years ago, the world moved on and Japan moved in. It listened to the market, adjusted its design and engineering accordingly, and began producing automobiles that suited the public’s tastes and needs, without the industry attempting to drive the market by pushing outmoded vehicles. Instead of forcing two-ton gas guzzlers on the public, the Japanese produced exactly what the market needed, and today they all but own the industry. The slogan “Buy American” no longer holds any meaning, as most American-made cars now are composed of a mixture of American and foreign-made parts.
Has the newspaper industry written its own epitaph by not anticipating the public’s needs for change? Have the few remaining large chains doomed the medium-sized city’s desires to shape their own content according to regional needs, by dictating format, areas of content, and political leanings? As a virtual layman in the business, I wouldn’t attempt to swim in these shark-filled waters. Actually, this is, or should be, the readers’ domain. Whether you’re satisfied with the erosion of the family newspaper, or passionate about keeping it in operation, I urge you to express your thoughts publicly about the ways your life could be enhanced by an improved print medium.
George Thatcher, 3022
Part 2 This Week!
Set in Concrete
My favorite teacher-friend was giving a math lesson to a private student. The child was in the low-functioning category, but he had been making good progress. The lesson was about “polygons,” and the teacher explained the concept carefully and went through examples of multiple polygon shapes. When the lesson had been completed, she asked the young student to draw a polygon of his choice, and then name it. He complied with the request, then labelled the result “Bob.” Of course he was totally correct, for he had complied faithfully with the instructions he had been given.
I was driving in the right lane, preparing to make a turn at an upcoming traffic signal. Approaching the “stop” line at a light that was red, I eased to a stop while deploying my right-turn signal. Then, with no traffic in the cross lanes, I started into my turn. That’s when I saw the lights flashing behind me. So I pulled over and awaited the approach of the police officer. We exchanged “howdies” and I asked him if I had broken one of the traffic laws. He replied that I had turned on my turn signal too close to the stop sign. “You’re supposed to signal your turn within a hundred feet of the stop sign,” he said. I explained that I had done so just before I changed into the turn lane, but that when I straightened the wheel again, the signal had automatically turned off, so when I noticed that fact, I re-engaged it. “But you did it too close to the stop line, and that’s an infraction of the law.” I wondered silently if the best he could do with his time was nit-picking law abiding motorists for the merest infraction. I might have saved myself the trouble, as he proceeded to write me a citation. Of course, he was technically correct, and I’ll bet he slept the sleep of the just that night. But while he was preoccupied with my nit-pick, three cars ran the red light behind him.
Just out of high school, I found my first job as a sheet metal apprentice. My total experience in this field had been making ash trays in high school shop class. I would accompany the journeymen on jobs outside the shop, and be their “gofer” while trying to learn the basics of what they were doing. One day, my journeyman-boss and I were building some ductwork at a factory when, in his Alabama drawl, he asked me to go find him a “paint spar.” I had no clue as to what he wanted, but I thought I would just look even more stupid if I asked for clarification. So I went rummaging through his set of tools, and finally found a paint-covered yardstick. Well, a stick could be a “spar,” and it did have paint on it, so I was off the hook. I thought. When I delivered it to the journeyman, he was anything but pleased, and I learned some brand new variations on the term “dumbass” in the process. He finally stalked off, muttering to himself, and directly returned with a “pinch bar.” Now I knew what a crowbar was, but I had never heard the Alabama variation. I never went on a job with that guy again, surprisingly.
What I have just tried to do was to use colorful vignettes to describe the phenomenon of “concrete thinking.” I could have used my old cartoon favorite of a nurse chasing a nude, screaming patient down the hospital hallway, holding a pan of steaming water, while a nearby doctor tries to tell her, “No, no, nurse, I said to prick his boil!” But maybe that one should be reserved for my nighttime act.
Meanwhile, back at the premise, I’d say that we’re all subject to engaging in concrete thinking at some time during the day. And why not? It’s a lot easier than analysis, comparison/contrast, evaluation, and all those other higher-order thinking skills that we should’ve
learned during our academic lives. And of itself, it makes for the exercise of actual comparison/contrast, when we think of how we can turn the ridiculous into the sublime, because we’ll never know what concrete thinking really is, until we learn what it isn’t.
George Thatcher, 2022 Still Searching for a Life
George is an American Bad Ass. He grew up in Jersey, flew B-52s in Vietnam, taught English, Spanish and other languages to children around the world, makes his own salsa, has been known to enjoy a beer or two and has called Lubbock home for a few years, just to entertain the locals. Welcome to Raiderland, Major. We are going to feature some of his writings going forward. Some new, some old. Some rhyme, some don’t. When it comes to George, there’s no box. So… enjoy our friend and enjoy his writings! – Hyatt
