Talking Heads

Talking Heads

So who really listens to podcasts? I mean, who are these people ? And how do they find the time to listen to podcasts?

This is not a rhetorical question, and I’m not being coy. I really don’t get how people have the time to listen to podcasts.

There are 24 hours in a day. Subtract six to eight hours for sleep, that leaves 16. In these days with C-19, maybe people are only working six hours a day. That leaves ten. Subtract an hour for health and wellness, an hour for preparation and consuming of meals, an hour for relating to other humans, and an hour (minimum) for communicating on computer devices. That leaves six hours in a day, and I haven’t even factored in play and recreation, commuting, watching television, dog walks, grooming, or trying to get your child in the bathtub or to bring his laundry down. Let’s allot three hours total for all of that.

That leaves three hours of unallotted time. Am I to believe that people are actually using podcasts as a way to pass these three precious hours?

Nuh-uh. I don’t believe it.

It’s like Netflix. I just watched a Netflix series of eight episodes with my friend last week in Virginia. Every night after dinner we’d make our drinks, get into our pajamas, snuggle into our beds, and treat ourselves to two episodes. By the end of the week, we had finished season one.

It was luxurious, but that’s what vacation is for. In daily life, where does the average person find a surfeit of time to listen to podcasts? There are, like, eight billion podcasts out there. How do you choose which one to listen to? Besides, you know the saying: Just because anyone can make a podcast doesn’t mean anyone should. Out of the eight billion podcasts out there, 7,999,999, 990 of them suck.

People say they listen to podcasts during their work commute or at the gym. That makes sense. It’s just that I can’t think of anything more tortuous and boring than listening to other people talk. Except for Jordan Peterson or the Joe Rogan Experience. I’d listen to Joe read the phone book. But even with JRE, I’ll often just catch the highlights on Youtube.

The podcast conversation always goes the same. Someone is all amped up, and sends me a text.

“Mary, you have to listen to this podcast.”

“Why?”

“Well, because it’s what you do, isn’t it? You discuss ideas?”

“Yes, but in writing. Why would I want to listen to someone else discuss ideas?”

“Well, to get more material.”

“That’s what books and magazines are for. And the news.”

“But you’re missing out on so much interesting discussion. And this podcast has millions of listeners.”

(Every podcast advertised anywhere has millions of listeners)

“I doubt it.”

“Just listen to one episode. For me?”

“Omg, FINE.”

I invariably listen, but this is what I hear:

Waw waw waw waw. Waw waw waw waw waw.

You know, the Charlie Brown teacher.

Trust me when I say the podcast universe is oversaturated. Even I bandied around the idea of starting a podcast. I have the books, my son has the equipment, but I just don’t want to add to an already vomitous number of untalented hacks who think they are interesting.

I even had a title for my podcast. Drum roll, please…

“But That’s Just Me”

(Rudimentary research turned up a podcast with this exact title, but alas, the podcasters haven’t posted a new podcast in three years. Shouldn’t they have to give up the name if they aren’t, you know, podding?)

My daily “But That’s Just Me” podcast would introduce a human foible, a cultural disparity, or a societal issue. I would then tell all of my listeners why they are wrong and I am right, and that it is high time they change their minds to suit me. Then I would invite them to call or comment and tell me I should take a long walk on a short pier. It sounds fun, and cathartic.

There are taboo subjects I’d love to tackle more than I can on the blogging page. Legalized marijuana. Gender and race issues. Transcendental meditation. Success through creative thought. Intermittent fasting. Sex. Plastic surgery. Homelessness. Health care. Child abuse. Why we live in the richest country in the world, but there are still babies in certain parts of the U.S. with Mountain Dew in their baby bottles because the parents can’t afford milk.

Ah, the guests I would have. Pete Davidson. Kristin Wiig. AOC. Post Malone. Halsey. Gabrielle Union and Dwayne Wade. Megan Rapinoe. Judd Apatow. Joe Rogan. Jordan Peterson. Megan Thee Stallion. Dustin Johnson and Paulina. The Barstool Sports guys. Ben Shapiro. Charlie Kirk. Ruth Madoff. Tomi Lahren. David Sedaris. The list just goes on and on…

But again. For now I refuse to be just another talking bore in a vast sea of talking bores. For now I will simply bore you in writing.

For now.

Professor Piffle

Dr. Jordan Peterson’s new book Beyond Order: 12 More Rules for Life is in stores. I’ve been waiting impatiently for the March 2nd release date.

When I walked into Barnes and Noble to purchase it, it was not on the front display. This did not surprise me. Peterson is, after all, considered “alt-light” and subversive. The Obamas figured prominently in the front display, as did books on the environment and fiction by authors Janet Evanovich, James Patterson and Dean Koontz.

Neither was it in the New Non-Fiction section. Not in Sociology, Self-Help, Psychology. With my brow furrowed, I could feel my heart racing with literary injustice. It’s a brand-new release from an incredibly popular and brilliant professor, writer and lecturer, I thought. Where the fuck was it?

I kept walking around, but it simply was not displayed. This is impossible, I thought. I sought out an employee and asked politely if she could help me find Dr. Jordan Peterson’s new book. With just a millisecond of dubious hesitation, she smiled and led me to the display.

We walked. And walked. And walked. All the way to the back caverns of some obscure sociological section I would assume is reserved for books written by and about the criminally insane. It took so long to get to the display that I began wishing I had packed a lunch. Finally, we arrived at a table in the far corner of the store, behind a display of candles, journals, and odd literary sundries.

That is where Dr. Jordan Peterson’s book was displayed. On a narrow wall, obscured by a display of scented pencils. That would be akin to Dr. Peterson himself running the Dumbo ride at Disneyland. I mean, how dare they? I turned to the associate and asked, “What, your store doesn’t have a basement?”

She was not amused. She looked strangely at me the whole morning as I worked in the café, maybe thinking I was going to pull out a firearm and force her to read Green Eggs and Ham.

Listen, I don’t know why Jordan Peterson’s book was in a corner. Maybe it was just coincidence, maybe it will be placed in front at a later time. It’s not the point anyway. Book store owners can put books wherever they want. It doesn’t matter. Because the people who want to read them will find them no matter where they are.

While I may not know how to navigate automatic doors and soap dispensers, I am an intellectual. I read everything by everyone. I don’t choose a book based on the author’s political beliefs, sexual orientation, or stance on global warming. On any given day I could be reading a memoir from Michelle Obama, a sociological study by Malcolm Gladwell, a biography on Joseph Mengele, an autobiography by Matthew McConaughey, a treatise by Gloria Steinem, something by Robert Greene, a book about the black arts, *a chronological history of the nipple, a suspense novel by Gillian Flynn or a work of comedic genius by David Sedaris. I once even plowed through Greta Thunberg’s self-indulgent No One is Too Small to Make a Difference in the time it took me to chug a small caramel macchiato.

I felt it was an important book to read. Isn’t this what staying informed and educated is about?

I follow Dr. Peterson on Instagram, and I enjoy the daily discourse and back-and-forth. But in the past few years, it has been suggested to me that I should not be reading his books. That he is subversive. That his followers are dangerous.

We are? I am? But why? I need these answers.

The first thing I have decided to do is to re-read 12 Rules for Life to see if there is something I missed. Something dangerous, as critics purport. Are there Satanic rituals in there? I also decided to do some more rudimentary research. Yesterday I found an article from The Guardian by Dorian Lynskey. Maybe Dorian can clear this up, I thought.

Yikes.

Here are some ways the article referred to Dr. Peterson:

“The culture war’s Weapon X. Heavyweight intellectual armature. Tough-love stern-dad.  Doughty truth-teller. The most important and influential Canadian thinker since Marshall McLuhan. The most influential public intellectual in the western world, ‘a kind of secular prophet … in an era of lobotomized conformism.’ The Professor of Piffle. The stupid man’s smart person. A dangerous goof. An old-fashioned conservative who mourns the decline of religious faith and the traditional family.”

Is that right, Dorian? Well, then, you can step off. Because he’s MY Professor of Piffle.

According to Lynskey, Peterson’s fan base is so popular and strong that requests for interviews from public figures who have ever crossed swords with him decline those requests. Supposedly they don’t feel like getting death threats from Peterson’s fan base, a fan base described to be so zealous that the only way they can be brought to their senses is by Peterson himself. He must tweet them to “back off.”

Who knew?

But this is not me, and I’m certainly not prepared to launch into discourse about post-Marxism. The crux of this post is simply this: Are we what we read? If you look at the books I listed above, and you decided to judge me based on that reading selection, you could easily infer that I am a liberal, a sociologist, a feminist, a climatologist, a Satanist and a Nazi.

Using that logic, isn’t that right?

I am none of those things. I am simply a reader. A lover of words, and thoughts, and concepts, and of the English language. Does Barnes and Noble honestly think that obscuring a new release by a best-selling author is the right thing to do? Moreover, does B&N really think they can keep it out of readers’ hands?

I used to tell my students to never let themselves be defined by geography. Not by salary, not by zip code, not by ethnicity, gender, workplace, income or speech pattern. Who cares where you live, where you work, how you talk? Work on yourself. Because in America, anyone can be anything. That’s the glory that is America.

You can be anything you want to be, we tell our young people. But when we expose them only to the books we deem influential, we send them a different message:

You can be anything you want to be. But only if you’re reading the right books.

I’m not clear on what is going on with Dr. Seuss, because I’m strategically avoiding the news until I can gather my thoughts about it. But I know I’m distressed. As an English teacher, it pains me that any book would be banned or taken out of publication simply because one day someone in a little room with too much time on his hands decided it contained “subversive thoughts or images.”

Any image or thought can be made subversive by an individual who has decided to make them so.

*There is no such book. I looked it up. But it has great potential.