I've never really liked the following, even though you're supposed to:

South Park
I just can't get up to speed with 1997's watercooler hit. I think it's the voices. They all sound like untalented jerks you know around the office trying to make funny noises. Maybe I'm being a high modernist here, but if you're going to have poor writing and Grandma Moses drawing, I think you should balance it out with some crafty vocal artists. But since everybody seems to love this show and its hand-me-down zaniness, I'll take a pass on the sniping. Knock yourselves out.

Seinfeld
Sure, it's easy to admit it, now that everybody claims to have turned on Seinfeld, but even when the show was at its peak, I still got more laughs from a golden age episode of The Odd Couple. And if anybody can tell me where to find reruns of Felix and Oscar, I'd appreciate it.

Mark Leyner
I really feel rotten about this, but America's Best Dressed Comic Novelist or whatever he's called has never peeled my banana. A little of that straining, frenetic, ("Stephen Jay Gould doing an infommercial for Ted Bundy brand imported kosher wines") business goes a long way, and Leyner never stops. It's Robin Williams in print; half the jokes would be twice as funny. And even then, they wouldn't be very funny. I don't even like the titles - Et Tu, Babe, and all that. I should exert myself for this guy's buffoonery? If I want a hernia I'll fuck a gymnast.

The Sound and the Fury
High modernism again, maybe, but for my money, the Stream of Consciousness in Ulysses was entertaining because it was the stream of normal people's consciousness. Who wouldn't enjoy spending the day with Bloom and his observations? But Faulkner just won't leave well enough alone - he has to subject us to the psychic torments of a retard, a suicide, a sadist and God knows who else. Some things you like in principle more than in reality, and this is one of them; much as I like the idea of a mad, soused, Southern master of Cubist literature, I'm bored shitless by Faulkner.

Dilbert
Again, easy to say, now that everybody's turned on Scott Adams, but I really missed the whole concept of Dilbert as the everyman of the American workplace. Simpleton cybercolumnist Cyril Nignew has advanced the theory that Dilbert is the Johnny Got His Gun of the comics, since Dilbert himself has no mouth or eyes, and only shrimpy, seemingly useless arms. In this conception, the boss and Dogbert are dreamed characters in Dilbert's inner passion play. I like that interpretation, but Dilbert's workplace testament leaves me cold. I actually like the more recent strips better, since they eschew the workplace in favor of Dilbert's adventures in the kitchen, and similar comics page boilerplate.

Might
Pretty mean to say it, since they're out of business and all. But then again, it's not that mean, since they all went on to great magazine gigs, while I'm about to lose even the belittling job I have now. Actually, I kind of liked Might, but not as much as I was supposed to. Which of course is even worse than not liking it at all. I think Might's purpose was to give people something to say they liked after it became uncool to say you liked Spy

I never read the following, although you're supposed to:

The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction
I think I got the title right, and I know it's by Walter Benjamin. So I can namedrop it, even though I haven't read it.

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
I read Hell's Angels though. And it was good. But I have a hard time picking up on binge writing, so I never even cracked the spine of this book.

The Baffler
Since this journal reached some sort of apotheosis in 1997 and its principles have become fairly common currency, I guess it doesn't matter. But except for an article about interns from the most recent issue, I've never even seen The Baffler. Now I hear that it has become part of the cultural machinery it attempts to deconstruct, which I guess means it's full of references to bands I never heard of anyway. I promise I'll buy the book. Or at least read some of it in the store.

And that's about all I have to clear up before 1998 gets started. This has been the director of programming's special report.

Sincerely,

Geof Kupperman