Monday, February 13, 2006
against "G-Rod"
Nicknames exist for a reason. Consider, for instance, "Boy Genius," the name given by President Bush to his top political advisers, Karl Rove. Besides being regarded as the "brain" of the administration, Rove made his name in the College Republicans organization (even though he never finished college). Because of this rapid rise in the world, "Boy Genius" makes sense, even if that wasn't the actual origin of the name. I won't even try to explain "Turd Blossom."
"G-Rod" is not a sensible nickname for Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich. The man does not exude cool, much less hip-hop cool. The name was much more effective in a prank by Andy Roddick. No RedEye reader casually refers to the governor as "G-Rod" in the same way that we would refer to the president as "Dubya." Yet as far as I can tell, every single story addressing the governor must use this stupid nickname. There's probably some annoying Red copy-editor who chastises writers any time they try to use any other term. "Now Jimmy, is that what the kids would say?"
Granted, Blagojevich ain't an easy name to spell, much less fit in a headline. The Daily Herald joked that the whole reason they endorsed Jim Ryan was that Blagojevich's name would drive their copy-editors nuts. But can't we at least throw in "Guv" for run-of-the-mill stories like today's "Critics target G-Rod's preschool plan"?
This seems to be part of a larger RedEye trend to use "clever" nicknames as often as possible. It seemed like in the early days of the publication, a day wouldn't pass when I wouldn't see "LiLo" or "Bennifer" in a headline. Even if you leave aside the stodgy old newspaper concerns about these nicknames (will new readers understand? will they make sense to an archivist some day? do they skew a story if used repeatedly?) they don't even make sense as humor. "G-Rod" may have once made someone smile. But now, like most RedEye stories, all it reveals is the desperation and cluelessness of newspapers trying to reach "hip" young readers.
And the gold for boredom goes to... Red is often self-indulgent, pretending that their columnists and fictional characters are, simply by virtue of appearing in the newspaper, fonts of wisdom who we are always dying to hear from. Yet an ongoing feature in the sports section really takes the cake. In "The Italian Job," we get to read e-mails between a Trib reporter, who is in Turin, and a RedEye reporter, who had to stay at home. Why this would be interesting in the first place, I have no idea. Why Red thinks it will be interesting for the entirety of the Olympic Games is an even greater mystery. But the reason this feature gets the gold is that it highlights the fact that the Tribune Company won't invest in RedEye enough to send its own reporter to Turin. (Chris Malcolm, if this minor complaint somehow gets you to Italy, well, I owe you one. And Bag Boy.)
It was kind of a curveball to see a RedEye story that actually suggested that the paper's readers could make some difference in the world, rather than just home and watch TV all day. A story on page 8 considers what may be the most dangerous curve in the city and one man's attempts to make it safer. Of course, this is really just a butchered version of a story by Jon Hilkevitch, which appeared in the big-kids paper.
Nitpick: From pg. 23... "When buttoned-down corporations such as Sprite, Ringling Bros. or McDonald's need to plug into the hip-hop world, they use Jackson as a guide." Ringling Bros. is "buttoned-down"? Yeah, because a company that employs tightrope-walkers, acrobats, fire-eaters, and human cannonballs has to be staffed by a bunch of yuppies.
"G-Rod" is not a sensible nickname for Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich. The man does not exude cool, much less hip-hop cool. The name was much more effective in a prank by Andy Roddick. No RedEye reader casually refers to the governor as "G-Rod" in the same way that we would refer to the president as "Dubya." Yet as far as I can tell, every single story addressing the governor must use this stupid nickname. There's probably some annoying Red copy-editor who chastises writers any time they try to use any other term. "Now Jimmy, is that what the kids would say?"
Granted, Blagojevich ain't an easy name to spell, much less fit in a headline. The Daily Herald joked that the whole reason they endorsed Jim Ryan was that Blagojevich's name would drive their copy-editors nuts. But can't we at least throw in "Guv" for run-of-the-mill stories like today's "Critics target G-Rod's preschool plan"?
This seems to be part of a larger RedEye trend to use "clever" nicknames as often as possible. It seemed like in the early days of the publication, a day wouldn't pass when I wouldn't see "LiLo" or "Bennifer" in a headline. Even if you leave aside the stodgy old newspaper concerns about these nicknames (will new readers understand? will they make sense to an archivist some day? do they skew a story if used repeatedly?) they don't even make sense as humor. "G-Rod" may have once made someone smile. But now, like most RedEye stories, all it reveals is the desperation and cluelessness of newspapers trying to reach "hip" young readers.
And the gold for boredom goes to... Red is often self-indulgent, pretending that their columnists and fictional characters are, simply by virtue of appearing in the newspaper, fonts of wisdom who we are always dying to hear from. Yet an ongoing feature in the sports section really takes the cake. In "The Italian Job," we get to read e-mails between a Trib reporter, who is in Turin, and a RedEye reporter, who had to stay at home. Why this would be interesting in the first place, I have no idea. Why Red thinks it will be interesting for the entirety of the Olympic Games is an even greater mystery. But the reason this feature gets the gold is that it highlights the fact that the Tribune Company won't invest in RedEye enough to send its own reporter to Turin. (Chris Malcolm, if this minor complaint somehow gets you to Italy, well, I owe you one. And Bag Boy.)
It was kind of a curveball to see a RedEye story that actually suggested that the paper's readers could make some difference in the world, rather than just home and watch TV all day. A story on page 8 considers what may be the most dangerous curve in the city and one man's attempts to make it safer. Of course, this is really just a butchered version of a story by Jon Hilkevitch, which appeared in the big-kids paper.
Nitpick: From pg. 23... "When buttoned-down corporations such as Sprite, Ringling Bros. or McDonald's need to plug into the hip-hop world, they use Jackson as a guide." Ringling Bros. is "buttoned-down"? Yeah, because a company that employs tightrope-walkers, acrobats, fire-eaters, and human cannonballs has to be staffed by a bunch of yuppies.
