You Have to Brush Your Tongue!

Hello. Today we are going to talk about an event from a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, when newspapers still had some self respect. I remember it. It was around 1991. It was a beautiful time. We editors did not beg for readers (“eyeballs”) to read us at any cost including the eternal mortgage of our mortal souls.

I had just been hired by The Washington Post, and was considered a rising star — this was long before you could not publicly insult Indian food, but that is a side issue for which I have long repented and publicly mortified my flesh with whips and scourges— and I was asked to address a meeting of the Post editors at a yearly symposium called “Pugwash,” for some reason. My challenge was to make fun of the newsroom. My point, to the extent I had one, was that we were losing our focus on writing important riveting stuff, bowing toward banal readers’ tastes. This phenomenon was just beginning at the time, and I did a slide show (remember them?) on the subject of where I contended we were heading. My main slide was an enormous front page the entirely of which was occupied by a single article, based on a minor Associated Press story that had been published the day before, based on a PR release from a dental association, reporting that proper hygiene required you to brush your tongue as well as your teeth.

The headline was gigantic, running across all eight columns and eclipsing everything else, including a small story at the bottom of the page reporting the start of World War III. The main headline read “YOU HAVE TO BRUSH YOUR TONGUE!

It was completely ridiculous, and all the editors laughed, except it is not now all that ridiculous. There are new editors and new priorities, throughout the industry.

In the last few months, The New York Times has revamped its home page so that right next to the biggest story of the day is some stupid piece of clickbait shit, at though it was equally important. Just yesterday, The Times home page led with this: Mixup Preceded Deadly Drone Strike in Jordan, US Officials Say... this story was about an international military screwup resulting in the deaths of three American service members. It appeared next to an equally displayed story headlined “How to Wash Your Hair. “ This story involved very important hair-washing tips, including that you have to spend fully sixty seconds to fully lather shampoo into the scalp and the nape of the neck.

Okay.

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Please send in your new questions and observations here, to this orange thing.

Two nights ago I woke up after a dream, and jabbed Rachel in the ribs at 4 a.m. and said the following, verbatim: “I am angry with you because when I was a kid you refused to get me a glockenspiel. “ Then I went back to sleep and she was left to her own, painfully awake, thoughts.

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Also, I just remembered a sort of puzzling term from the 1970s, “your ass is grass,”and I thought it was specific to my generation, but recently learned it was cross-generational, but I bet you didn’t know what it meant! It has never been adequately explained, until now, in the Gene Pool. I just researched it and can say this with authority.

The entire explanation is “Your ass is grass, and I am the lawnmower.”

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We are now entering into the real-time segment of The Gene Pool. Many of the questions and observations are related to our Weekend Gene Pool Question seeking people from history even worse than Donald Trump. Reminder: if you are reading this in real time, keep refreshing your screen to get real-time questions and answers.

But first, a Gene Pool Gene Poll.

Q: People worse than Trump: Christopher Latham Sholes. Inventor of the qwerty keyboard layout.

A: Agreed. We understand why he did it, but cannot forgive him for it.

Q: Worse than Trump: My ex. He would fart in bed, then cackle and bellow the sheets. 15-20 minutes later, he'd do it again. Mind you the man was lactose intolerant but was exceedingly fond of limburger cheese and beer so that was his nightly ritual - watch tv, eat limburger, drink beer, come to bed, fart, cackle, and flap the sheets. I wish he'd ran for and became president. He could have had the whole White House to himself. After the first State of the Union address, I'm sure they'd have had no problem impeaching and convicting him and then he'd be back home. Damn, no solutions.

A: This made me laff. I hope it is true.

TIMELY TIP: If you’re reading this right now, on an email: Click here to get to my webpage, then click on the top headline (In this case, “You Have to Brush… ”) for the full column, and comments, and real-time questions and answers. And you can refresh and see new questions and answers that appear as I regularly update the post.

Q: I am not sure I get "That was no lady, that was my wife!" Or maybe I don't know the full joke. As I know it, the joke is just, "Who was that lady I saw you with?" "That was no lady, that was my wife!" Is the joke that the speaker intends to say he was not with a stranger, but he ends up saying his wife is not a lady? Or is there more to the joke that I don't know? As it stands, I don't know why it's such a classic line. It doesn't seem all that funny.

A: I’ve never entirely understood this either. I think the “joke,” such as it is, is that the interlocutor is asking who is the lady I saw you with last night, and they respondent says “that was no lady, that was my wife,” meaning she is not a lady, signifying sex and mystery, but merely his wife, who is presumably sexless and lacking in mystery or excitement. It sucks as a joke. Lame and misogynistic. Anyone else with a different interpretation?

Q: Hello, Bro. I'm delighted and heartened that you think the Orange Utan is self-destructing, and I certainly see what you mean, but I'm still nervous. The current insanity in the Republican party and the number of people that unashamedly support him worries me. We discounted the danger in 2016 and called him a buffoon, which he was and is. But there are lots of buffoons out there, and they're his base. I think the only hope is if we can get enough voters off their asses. As long as fifty or so percent of eligible voters stay home, this putz actually could win. And if he does, our country is finished. And I see and hear a lot of apathy. Don

A: Hey, bro. I do think he is toast. Alas, I said that in 2016.

Q: I forget our (your?) term for an aptonym, maybe inaptonym? Anyway, I work at a school and a colleague who teaches psychology is Mr. Sicko and the director or Academic Support is Ms. Phalen. Neither are monsters.

A: It’s nice. Both are. I knew a teacher in high school named Mr. Schmuck. He wasn’t.

Q: I would have said Hitler, but at least his paintings were not that bad. This is a hard one.

A: I always kind of liked his paintings. He could draw buildings and landscapes with some skill, but not people, which was interesting. He had some other problems, though.

Hey, this is Gene. Having some computer problems here, so I am ending this a bit early. We will reconnect on Thursday. Please continue to send questions and observations here, to this orange thing: