Here’s another issue that even Grown Olde me can’t quite sort out.
I was confidently informed in publications for kids that I read in grade school that lotteries were being ended and even outlawed in America because the people who could least afford it spent the largest part of their income buying tickets. The same problem casinos present. I’ve always disliked gambling because I know first-hand it can ruin lives and because ultimately it plays on human weakness.
But now I understand it isn’t as simple as that. Casinos, and more commonly the lottery, can be embraced out of desperation — the only way for true discriminated-against outsiders to grab some real power. I’m not certain how true it is, but I get it that they feel the lottery odds may be long but the straight-life odds are zero.
So I now argue that players can include the frantic as well as the foolish. That lotteries might be eliminated because they give too many undesirables a shot at moving up.
Floating around in my head, still.
I’ll probably need a second life to read this book, but I wish that were more possible. This is a crucial tale and the selected examples are perfect. Abramson was of course correct about how to keep the professional ethics intact, but in retrospect that was not gonna happen under any circumstances. Must note that the one myth believed by too many otherwise smart people was that “local news” was going to be the fiscal salvation of modern journalism: that readers would pay more for hacked-out stories set in their neighborhoods than the most brilliant presentation and explanation of world-sized stories. I thought it mostly reflected contempt for the audience.
This is what I had to say way back in that happier day:
King Donald Day One
but owning a car in MA is good practice for the nasty corners of Purgatory.
Saw a bunch of M*ck*y imagery today and was yet again amazed at how repulsed I was:
Now I have to put the lovely artwork of this CD in the Never-Play Shitpile with the Nuge.
Hey, the rain today wasn’t a ferocious as predicted …. got to see modern dance presentation at the Isabella Stewart Gardner and get one of my good ganders at a painting of a demon by someone who believed they were real.
(It’s “Saint Michael, Archangel.” The demon does not look like any clever monster-mashups from scary creatures. Really suggests something not from this universe.)