A Hard Place.

Hello. Above is a new photo of the surface of Mars, taken by the Mars Perseverance, a rover that landed on the planet in 2021.

Today’s Gene Pool Gene Poll was suggested by a close friend of mine and of The Gene Pool:

Okay, please confirm you have answered the poll. The rest of us will wait right here.

Done? Cool.

Liar. Last chance. We’re watching.

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Okay, my answer is “awe.”

You didn’t expect that, did you? Neither did my close friend who submitted the question, and who himself leans hard to the effing rock answer. He sought cynicism.

I say, we can use a little awe right about now. Our new leaders are drowning us in soulless pragmatism, heartlessness, political nihilism, and so forth. I say, grab what you can that remains warm and pulsing.

I believe that seeing something specific that no human has seen before, even something as commonplace as a rock … qualifies.

I’ve made this point before, many years ago, when a 20-second silent video surfaced of a 12-year-old Anne Frank, looking out the window of her home Amsterdam in 1941, before the deluge.

Here is the full video. You should watch it.

Several readers wrote in to say what a terrible disappointment it was. Just 3 seconds of a grainy 20 seconds film! Didn’t move them at all.

I pitied them. They were jaded. There are things that must move you, if you are humanly movable. Say, for example, the only video ever found showing the only moving likeness of the only martyred brilliant teenage writer whom we’d heretofore known only in still photographs, a three-second video of a little girl feeling joy and connection watching someone else’s joy and connection (the neighbors were getting married) as a bystander, the way most of us experience most of life … a shocking dose of the palpable, breathable reality of pure evil.

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But, anyway. The other day I had occasion to investigate another, different legend, palpably, breathably, for the first time.

Among newspaper columnists of my era, an inward-peering beleaguered assemblage of egomaniacal, paranoiac, neurotic, self-doubting, sickly envious and competitive semi-people, there exists a certain unholy grail, a superlative they hope to never obtain: Universal recognition for the worst column ever written.

This milestone was achieved on October 9th, 1993 when Bob Greene — the terrible, sappy columnist who wrote for the Chicago Tribune for decades and who, by the way, was eventually fired for having an almost consummated sexual affair in a hotel room with a 17-year-old girl he had met when she interviewed him for a high-school class journalism project — wrote a column about the glory of the Bob Evans restaurant chain.

The thing about this phenomenally stinky column was that it had no point other than that Bob Greene apparently could not think of a good column that day. But he had just visited a Bob Evans restaurant for what was apparently the first time, and discovered, on deadline, that he’d been transported into a celestial bastion of homespun restaurant splendor.

I would link you to this awful bit of offal, but it appears to be unavailable to mortals without access to the Chicago Tribune archives, so I will summarize here:

Bob liked the folksy tone of the place, and its delightful food, when compared to the early days of the Bill Clinton presidency, when Americans were impressed by slick and fancy stuff, unlike the fine plain American food that you could obtain at Bob Evans’s restaurants, where the menus were laminated! AND you could choose things to your heart’s desire, like, for example, if you ordered the delicious chicken-n-noodle casserole, “if you don't like the mashed potatoes with gravy as a side dish, you can switch it for the long grain and wild rice. If you don't like the apple sauce, you can have the green beans or the cottage cheese!”

(I have a subscription to the Chicago Tribune archives. You are welcome. I spare you the rest.)

So. Where are we going here?

We are going here: Just two days ago Rachel and I got the opportunity to visit a Bob Evans for the first time in either of our lives. It was in Morgantown, WVA. We had breakfast there, a chance to re-assess the work of the Writer of the Worst Column Ever Written.

It was a nice place with a really splendid logo out front.

You could definitely substitute hash browns for french fries if you wanted, or even a salad! And it definitely reminded me of our current lamentable state of politics, making this a dignified column worthy of publication in a major institution like the Gene Pool! The current state of politics would be vastly better, for example, if it were laminated, like the menus still are at Bob Evans!

Still, I must report, Bob Greene retains his title.

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Urgent Notice: In researching my soon-to-be Pulitzer Prize nominated column on Bob Greene, I found this story, by me, which appeared in The Washington Post on November 10, 2003. This is the story in its entirety including the headline and writer bio:

Guinness Record Book Today Celebrates 100 Millionth Sale

By Gene Weingarten

Yay.

Gene Weingarten is a columnist for The Washington Post Magazine. He will submit this to Guinness World Records as the shortest bylined newspaper story ever written.

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The Guinness Book never acknowledged this stunning achievement. It’s not in their latest book. To paraphrase Bob Greene, journalism is in a LOT of trouble in America, especially the judgment of the Pulitzer Prize juries.

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Now, we enter the portion of the Gene Pool where I respond to your Thoughts and Observations and Anecdotes! These represent T’s and O’s and A’s sent in before 11 p.m. on Monday. Still, you must send in more now to keep the conversations flowing. I will respond to them in the next few days.

Q: Gene, have you checked out the new "Commenting Experience" at the Washington Post? Instead of thumbs up or thumbs down, you are now given these potential responses: "Clarifying", "New to Me", "Provocative", and "Thoughtful."

WTF?

Also, you don't get to see the actual responses until you click through an AI generated summary of what they say. It makes reading comments very unpleasant. So, why did they do it?

A: They did it for the same reason they “improved” the chat software three years ago, which resulted, in part, in my leaving The Post. In both cases, they did it because management changes, but not always for the better.

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Q: You asked for a “wait, what?” moment. Here is one, from a late 1960s ad for a shampoo: “Don’t wash out body. Cream IN body.” - Bill Jacobs

A: Indeed. It was Lustre Cream. Here it is.

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Q: Regarding your car with the revolting bumper stickers, and your unaccountable failure to see the one labeled “I eat ass.”. You need your readers to see this!

A: Good grief.

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Q: The triptych of you and Lexi in the snow made my day. The only thing that could have made it more perfect is if she had been pooping.

A: We prayed for it. Alas.

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Q: Re: the bad Christmas music we seem to like. I think it has to do with nostalgia and allegedly simpler times. I cannot abide “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas,” or the infernal “Jingle Bell Rock.” But I hear the playlist on the soft rock station in the car and I’m taken back to visiting my parents in my hometown, going to Denny’s with my friends, and getting a little hot and heavy on New Year’s Eve with a nice boy who went on to have an illustrious career and 3 nice kids with a very nice woman. Times gone by. They weren’t simpler, really, but some nice memories and you’re reminded of people no longer in your life, or in this life at all, of whom you are or were fond. (I did work retail at Christmas and that’ll sour you on that godforsaken Alvin and the Chipmunks one, though.). I voted “like” anyway, cause nostalgia wins.

A: You are a warmer person than I am.

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Q: You think having liquor stores attached to gas stations is sketchy? I've lived in South Carolina and Louisiana, both of which have, or at least had at the times I lived there in the '70s and '80s, drive-through liquor stores. Not pull-up-to-a-window drive-throughs; actual buildings you drove into. Someone would come to your window, take your order, and put it in the car for you. "Gimme three cases of Bud and fifth of Jack Daniels for the trunk, and an Olde English 40 for the road". The most convenient drunk driving setup ever created. And they were state-sanctioned! — Warren H.

A: Okay but they were not instantly accessible to you, right? Boxes? In the trunk?

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Q: You may find WV strange, but are you aware of the Lobster Nativity Scene for sale in otherwise mainly main stream Massachusetts? It would be nice if you can bring this up with a question about how people feel about it? I'm pretty conflicted.

A: Sure, here. The baby Jesus is the problem, I think. He looks boiled.

Q: A yard sign near my home in CT (which is much redder than people think it is):

"Trump: Because Integrity Matters".

I am without words.

A: It is an occupational hazard that I always have words. Here’s one: BlearggghorkhorkhorkchhhorkSPLAT.

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Q: When you buy beer or wine or other alcoholic beverages at a grocery store in Virginia the clerk is required to scan the barcode of your license or ID, even if you are quite obviously old enough to be the clerk's grandparent. This annoys me to no end and feels like a real invasion of privacy, yet I comply in order to enjoy the convenience. But today I was buying a 4-pack of non-alcoholic Guinness Stout, which is surprisingly good. When the clerk asked for my ID I pointed out that it was non-alcoholic. I didn''t matter. I resisted and asked for the manager (and immediately felt like the proverbial Karen). They wouldn't or couldn't sell it without seeing my ID. I left without my beverage, but at least my principles were intact.

A: Am going to end this here, out of deference to you and your principles.

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That’s it. See you Thursday.