Monday, October 08, 2007

Worst. Prose. Of the (still-young) morning

America's Newspapers certainly seem intent on starting the writerly week off on the wrong foot, don't they?

Worst. Drought. On record.

That's what Carolinas officials are saying they expect the current dry spell to be.

Thurber. Rolls. Over. In grave. Complement-as-antecedent ledes haven't been the same since "Dead! That's what the man was when they found him." Nor. Are. They. Improved by adding the Blog Prose Flavor of the Day. Here's a test to apply when you're tempted to translate the style of those wild, crazy kids into newspaper text. One, rewrite first graf in Lolcat:

My droughtburger let me show yu it.

Two, delete first graf and proceed straight to the news. Which is why I put my 50 cents in the rack in the first place.

And how are things in the Motor City? Metaphorically, not much better:

Slatkin's appointment, which consummates a torrid four-month courtship, is a coup for the DSO.

Announcing the wedding date isn't consummating the courtship. That's why the Good Lord made motels in Niagara Falls.

Egg, laid.

Here it was Sunday, fresh from the wet hen of a Lions offense that didn't click and a Lions defense that didn't attack. No touchdowns. No sacks. No win. All feathers.

Egg, laid.

Wow. Does Albom write that badly on a dare?



Blogger Andy Bechtel said...

Here's a way to make it worse:

"Slatkin's appointment, which consummates a torrid four-month courtship, is ... wait for it ... a coup for the DSO."

Why are people asking us to "wait for it"?

3:05 PM, October 09, 2007  
Blogger fev said...

Aaaaay! Or should we say DY-NO-MITE?

Were I developing a Grand Unified Theory, I'd say it's because they don't realize that by the time "wait for it" is at the mass-TV-exposure stage, it's already gone past cool, missed its exit and turned around.

4:09 PM, October 10, 2007  

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