When an insecure new kid shows up at school, all the hyperactive squirming and unfunny, unoriginal mouthing of memes and stand-up comedy lines says, “Please, please like me. Please accept me.” I feel compassion for the kid, but at the same time I wish s/he’d shut up.
Whenever I read a Rick Levin review, I read in letters as big, blunt and clumsy as a billboard, “Please, please think I’m clever. I can’t tell the difference between clever, intelligent and meaningful, so I’m putting my all into clever. Please think I’m clever.”
I feel compassion for Rick, but at the same time I wish you’d put something else in that space in Eugene Weekly. If you’re not sure what, then just eat some alphabet soup and take a dump while putting on your best hipster-thoughtful face and snapping a selfie for Instagram. Time-stamp it so Rick can’t accuse you of plagiarism.
Did you notice that Rick didn’t make the Best of Eugene for his journalism? Total number of surprised people: zero, including both Rick and his grandmother. Tell him to tone down the desperate attempts at cleverness and he might claw his way to basic readability and leave the pretentiousness behind.
Doyle Srader
Eugene