The Fran Lebowitz Reader (17 page)

Finally the National Guard is called in. Hundreds of heavily armed Guardsmen arrive at the Algonquin. They are forced to retreat under a stinging barrage of sarcastic remarks.

Although the writers have agreed not to have a leader, one of their members becomes something of an authority figure. His influence is based largely on the fact that he has on his person a hardcover copy of
Gravity’s Rainbow
, which he is widely believed to have read in its entirety. In reality he is a disguised labor mediator sent by the city to infiltrate the writers and break the strike. He is insidious and stealthily goes about convincing writers that other writers are secretly writing and will have actual manuscripts completed and ready for publication when the strike ends. He does his work well. The writers leave the Algonquin and go back to not writing at home. When they realize they have been duped, and by whom, they are near-suicidal at their lack of perception. So, then, let this be a lesson to you all: never judge a cover by its book.

Democracy is an interesting, even laudable, notion and there is no question but that when compared to Communism, which is too dull, or Fascism, which is too exciting, it emerges as the most palatable form of government. This is not to say that it is without its drawbacks—chief among them being its regrettable tendency to encourage people in the belief that all men are created equal. And although the vast majority need only take a quick look around the room to see that this is hardly the case, a great many remain utterly convinced.

The major problem resulting from this conviction is that it causes such people to take personally the inalienable right of freedom of speech. This in itself would be at least tolerable were this group not given to such a broad interpretation of the word
freedom
or such a slender interpretation of the word
speech.

It would further ameliorate the situation were these equality buffs to recall that one of the distinguishing characteristics of democracy is the division between the public sector and the private sector. The founding fathers
may have had any number of things in mind when they made this admirable distinction, but surely their primary consideration was to protect the articulate against the possibility of overhearing the annoying conversation of others.

Since the Bill of Rights in its present form leaves far too much to the imagination, it is obviously necessary for some sane, responsible citizen to step forward and explain in detail just exactly what is meant by freedom of speech. Being as civic-minded as the next girl, I willingly accept this challenge. Lest you assume that I possess unreasonable and dangerous dictatorial impulses, I assure you that my desire to curtail undue freedom of speech extends only to such public arenas as restaurants, airports, streets, hotel lobbies, parks, and department stores. Verbal exchanges between consenting adults in private are of as little interest to me as they probably are to them. I wish only to defend the impressionable young and the fastidious old against the ravages of unseemly word usage. To this end I have prepared a list of words which should be used in public only as specified.

1. art
   —This word may be publicly used in only two instances:
   

   A.
   As a nickname—in which case the suffix
   ie
   may be added to form the word
   Artie.
   

   B.
   By a native of the East End of London to describe a vital organ, as in the sentence, “Blimy, I feel poorly—must be my bleedin’ ’art.”
   

2. love
   —The word
   love
   may be used in public only to refer to inanimate or totally inaccessible objects.
   

   A.
   “I love linguini with clam sauce” is always acceptable.
   

   B.
   “I love Truman Capote” is acceptable only if one is not personally acquainted with him. If one is personally acquainted with Mr. Capote it is rather unlikely at this time that one would be moved to express such a sentiment.
   

3. relationship
   —The civilized conversationalist uses this word in public only to describe a seafaring vessel carrying members of his family.
   
4. diaphragm
   —Public decency demands that this word be used only to refer to the midriff area of the body and then only by doctors—never by singers.
   
5. Ms.
   —The wise avoid this word entirely but:
   

   A.
   It may be used on paper by harried members of the publishing world who find it necessary to abbreviate the word manuscript.
   

   B.
   Or by native residents of the south and southwestern portions of the United States as follows: “I sho do ms. that purty little gal.”
   

6. honest
   —This word is suitable for public use only to indicate extreme distaste, as in the sentence “Dorothy has become absolutely unbearable—I think she must be on est.”
   
7. internalize
   —To be used (if at all) only to describe that process by which a formerly harmless medical student becomes a menace to the sick and helpless.
   
8. fair
   —This word is to be used only in reference to a carnival-type event and not as an expression of justice—for not only is such usage unpleasant but also, I assure you, quite useless.
   
9. assert
   —One would do well to remember that as far as public utterance is concerned,
   assert
   refers only to that which is two mints in one.
   

For some it’s the columns, for others the logic, but for me when it comes to the most winning aspect of Greek culture I’ll take the killing of the bearer of bad news. Throw in the bearer of good news and you’ve got yourself a practice that’s nothing short of perfect. And one, I should like to point out, that would make a welcome addition to any culture, particularly one such as our own. I am, of course, well aware that many people
like
the news—that they consider it to be important, informative, even entertaining. To these people I can only say: You’re wrong. Not that I wish to be curt with you—not at all. I am perfectly willing to elaborate. In order that you might more fully understand the error of your ways, let us consider each alleged attribute separately.

When dealing with a concept such as
important
one would be well advised to ask: “To whom?” In this way
we can more directly attack the problem. And almost immediately we can see that the “whom” is probably not us. We arrive at this conclusion by asking of ourselves the following questions:

1. Before going to work do I don a highly colored blazer the pocket of which is adorned with a number?
   
2. Once so attired, do I sit down at a long, curved counter and make jokes with old athletes and minority-group women?
   
3. Do I periodically interrupt this repartee to look into a camera and relate in an authoritative yet warm tone of voice the unpleasant activities of unattractive people?
   
4. Do I number among my colleagues at least one who has made a career for herself out of dressing up as a mother and buying dangerous household products?
   

If our answers to these questions are nos, then I think we can agree that when it comes to the news, “important” is not an appropriate adjective. Unless, of course, you earn your living by delivering papers on a bicycle, in which case the news
is
important but only when compared to you.

Strictly speaking, the news
is
informative insofar as it does indeed provide information. Therefore the questions one must ask here are:

1. Do I want this information?
   
2. Do I need this information?
   
3. What do they expect me to do about it?
   

Answer to Question Number One

No. If a genetically handicapped Scientologist attempts to take the life of the vice-president of the 4H
Clubs of Texas with a crossbow and someone knows about it, I would prefer that he kept it to himself.

Answer to Question Number Two

No. If three unemployed psychopathic blacksmiths have stolen the daughter of the inventor of lead paint and are threatening to read to her aloud from
Fear of Flying
until everyone in Marin County is given a horse, I fail to see how knowing this will help me to find a large but inexpensive apartment in a better neighborhood.

Answer to Question Number Three

I cannot possibly imagine.

In researching this subject I watched a fair amount of television news and read a couple of papers. I didn’t laugh once.

In the interest of fair play I offer two news situations that I find acceptable. One exists. The other does not. Naturally the one that exists is not nearly as acceptable as the one that does not. And this is probably as good a definition of reality as you are likely to find.

Radio news is bearable. This is due to the fact that while the news is being broadcast the disc jockey is not allowed to talk.

Walter Cronkite appears on the screen. He fixes you with a weighty yet good-humored gaze. The whisper of a smile plays around the corners of his forthright mouth. He begins. “Good evening, Fran. While you were lying on the couch today rereading old copies of English
Vogue
and drinking Perrier water your book wrote itself. All indications are that it’s perfect. A source close to
The New York Times Book Review
called it ‘splendid, brilliantly funny, a surefire hit.’ A reputable Hollywood authority—yes, Fran, we found one just for you—reports cutthroat bidding for the movie rights and many in the industry fear that it will set a dangerously high precedent. On the home front, Lauren Bacall called a press conference this afternoon to announce that she wants to trade apartments with you and an informed expert leaked the information that all of the conceptual artists in New York are moving to East Berlin. Well, Fran, that about wraps it up for now. See you tomorrow night, when things will be even better.”

 Social Studies
 

P
eople (a group that in my opinion has always attracted an undue amount of attention) have often been likened to snowflakes. This analogy is meant to suggest that each is unique—no two alike. This is quite patently not the case. People, even at the current rate of inflation—in fact, people especially at the current rate of inflation—are quite simply a dime a dozen. And, I hasten to add, their only similarity to snowflakes resides in their invariable and lamentable tendency to turn, after a few warm days, to slush.

This is, I am aware, though not a particularly popular sentiment, also not exactly a novel one either. I do believe, however, that this is the very first time it has ever been expressed with an intention to substantiate it with well-documented written evidence. In other words, everybody talks about people but nobody ever does anything about them.

What I have decided to do about them is to point out that except in extremely rare instances people are pretty much like everyone else. They all say the same things, have the same names and wear their hair in the same styles. This is not a modern phenomenon but one that has been true
throughout all of history. This can clearly be seen in the following orderly fashion:

I. WHAT PEOPLE SAY

Below you will find the complete and unabridged record of the general conversation of the general public since time immemorial:

1. Hi, how are you?
   
2. I did not.
   
3. Good. Now you know how I felt.
   
4. Do you mind if I go ahead of you? I only have this one thing.
   

II. WHAT PEOPLE ARE CALLED

This varies from era to era but at any given time almost everyone has the same name. Your average Joe has simply become your average Jennifer. In more ways than one.

III. HOW PEOPLE WEAR THEIR HAIR

When it comes to hair, the possibilities are not, fortunately, endless. And while this may be news to sportscasters and hairdressers, it is nevertheless a fact. The evidence is overwhelmingly conclusive and this list proves it.

1. Victor Hugo and Sarah Caldwell
   
2. William Wordsworth and Frank Lloyd Wright
   
3. W. B. Yeats and David Hockney
   
4. Jean Cocteau and Eli Wallach
   
5. Johan August Strindberg and Katharine Hepburn
   
6. Pablo Picasso and my maternal grandfather, Phillip Splaver
   

All of the above is true; and if you don’t believe me, you can look it up for yourself.

Now that we have learned these elementary lessons, most of you are probably asking yourselves the question, “Well, then, in what ways
do
people differ from one another?” There are two answers to this question. First of all, everyone has a different—and yes, even unique—size foot. In fact, no two feet are exactly alike—not even, as you have probably discovered, your own two feet. Every single human foot has its own inimitable size, its own distinctive shape, its own little personality.
Feet
are like snowflakes. Your feet, more than anything else, are what make you you, and nobody else’s are quite like them.