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In defense of Andy Rooney and more
One day, while standing in line at a grocery store in Orrville, I happened to glance at a different newspaper that was for sale by the cash register. The right hand column of the paper had a news article about a number of people who had spontaneously burst into flames. There was even a picture next to the column of a man running down a street with his legs on fire. I was impressed at this seemingly disastrous occurrence which struck innocent people who were guilty of nothing more than walking down the street. You can imagine that it bothered me. What if I was riding my bicycle between houses in Orrville and suddenly burst into flames? You need to know that the Orrville School had one teacher who taught all the algebra and geometry. She also taught chemistry and physics. I tell you this so that you will understand that if I had a question about science, I would go to the school's source of science knowledge. I asked her about the spontaneous combustion of people who were simply walking down the street. She laughed. "Where did you hear such a thing, James?" The way she said my name, I knew I had given her further evidence for what she already suspected. "I read it in a newspaper, ma'am." She stopped what she was doing, looked at me, and asked, "What paper?" I told her it was the newspaper that the grocery store sells. She told me to go back to my seat and to finish doing my homework. After a while she spoke to me from the front of the entire class. "Not everything called 'news' is true, James." It is almost 60 years later, and still I believe her. I believe her because I get some of the wildest news sent to me through my computer. The enews articles usually start this way: "This story is true." Or, "A friend told me she saw this happen. This story is true." The first line in one of these outlandish stories even caused me to laugh: "I know this is true," the email started, "for a friend told me a lawyer told a friend of hers." The stories circle around. I'll receive one, throw it into my computer's trash bin, and it pops up in my hopper again about a year later. The stories are designed to stir the most patriotic feelings, or to cause the reader to be in awe of some miracle that was supposed to have happened. Sometimes, the story is what Paul Harvey or Andy Rooney had to say. Some stories warn that if I don't forward the story to at least 10 people in my address book, then dire things will happen to me, or to my family, or to some hapless person out in cyber space. I stand in awe of a bunch of bright and savvy entrepreneurs. These guys and gals decided they could make a living by checking out the stories that float out there in cyber space. They would find out if the stories are true. They created a site called Snopes and post their findings on that site. Anyone can go to the site, type in some key words, and confirm that the latest story that arrived in their hopper is not true. These sleuths are good in their search for what is true, and what is only an urban legend. The Orrville School teacher would have loved these guys and gals. When I get unsolicited e-news, the first thing I do is check to see if the story is one of these urban legends. Almost every time, it is. I usually send a message back to the person who passed this story to me and to fifty of his other friends. I suggest he check out the Snopes site. Among other things, the site will tell how long the story has been circulating and will give some of the embellishments that have crept in through time. I can't help what I do next. It is just the way I was raised. I tell the person who passed the fabrication to me that they have a moral dilemma. Here is the question they must face: will they write all the other fifty folks to whom they sent this legend and tell them that a mistake has been made, that what was sent is only a myth, that it simply is not true? And, will an apology be given for perpetuating another falsehood? I've been thinking of sending out a myth and seeing how long it will take for it to get back to me. I'll give you an advance copy: "This story is true. A good friend told me that she observed the event. A writer of some renown in Southwest Alabama said that the Nethermost is nothing but a gully!" This has to be true. After all, you are reading it in a newspaper.
Jim Herod is a retired Georgia Tech mathematics professor living on the edge of the Nethermost south of Grove Hill, ferreting out bogus e-news as time permits.
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