My Dave Barry Correspondence

On December 20, 1995, I nestled the keyboard beneath my hands, stared at the computer screen and did something everyone had been wanting to do for at least three years: I called out Dave Barry on the lameness creeping into his column.

I had been a reader of Dave Barry's column since the time when I was introduced to him through the volume "Dave Barry Slept Here," which is, in my humble opinion, his magnum opus in the longer form. Dave Barry back in those days was a truly funny man. He regularly made me laugh at the printed page, something I do surprisingly rarely, and I could tell when other family members in my house were reading Dave Barry because of the loud fits of laughter his columns would inspire in them. "Shut up!" I would say. "Nothing's that funny!" (The complete lack of social skills I displayed here may give you an idea of how long ago this really was. Or perhaps it won't.)

Column writing is a difficult task, especially the column Dave Barry has chosen to write. He's got to be funny to a broad swath of newspaper-reading Americans, he can't go too high or too low to find his humor (though Mr. Barry at least regularly pushed the low end), and he's got to be there every single freaking week until his brain explodes. So perhaps it was inevitable that Mr. Barry would find a crutch: the reader-submitted wacky news article.

These articles, properly utilized, can spawn a bemused chuckle festival, a rant on the state of a society that could produce such an event, or any of a dozen other things. Mr. Barry, understandably, took to wacky news articles like a publisher to staff cuts. The problem is that, while these articles can produce a bewildering variety of columns, they all stem from the same comment-response format. In addition, Dave Barry is one of the most consistent columnists in America, in terms of his joking: he likes brand names and animal parts for his references, he goes into government-bashing mode at the slightest provocation, and he uses his humor subroutines, like "That would be a great name for a rock band" and "The word [blank] comes from the Greek...", with an ease and charm that only familiarity can give, and so forth.

All that is fine; predictability is a virtue as much as originality in a widely distributed weekly column. But, with the comment-response format further limiting his invention, his columns had become so predictable they seemed canned. Here is a made-up example I wrote at the age of 16, back when I didn't know all the fancy rhetoric words I do now:

"I have here an article dated May 31, 1995 submitted by alert reader Kerry Kittles, that says, and I quote, that 'Mrs. Ernestine P. Binkleweimer of Dayton, Ohio, upon opening her can of Vienna sausages, was startled to discover a frog in place of the expected sausage links.'

"I am not making this up.

"Now, I don't mean to be alarmist, but when you find a frog in your Vienna sausages, what are you going to find next? Boogers? The severed head of Dan Quayle? Well I, for one, am alarmed, and I demand that the federal government, which is currently using my tax dollars on a plane that no one is supposed to be able to see that doesn't work, to shift some of those dollars into the Vienna Sausage program so that we can get to the bottom of this mess."

I had to stop this somehow. So I drew up a letter that began thusly: "It is the opinion of several associates of mine and myself that your weekly 'humor' column has become weak and flabby in the nature of its facetious remarks, rather than the mighty colossus of steely wit and noble tastelessness it once was." Read the complete letter here. I closed the letter with a "challenge" to write four columns in a row without these wacky news items.

I then brought this letter to school and passed it around for signatures. Although I knew I was not alone in my sentiments, I was not prepared for the degree of positive response I received. I got about 40 signatures, including two teachers, in a couple of days, fueling my dreams of popular revolt. I then sent this letter off with the hope of provoking a reaction.

This I did. The first reaction came a subsequent "Mr. Language Person" column. Here is an excerpt from this column of January 14, 1996:

Q. Please quote, in its entirety, a Washington state news item from the Oct. 31 issue of USA Today, sent in by alert reader Mary Louise Flanneary.

A. Certainly: "TACOMA - Fish and Wildlife Services scientists plan to kill about 40 stocky, black sea ducks called surf scoters around Commencement Bay to find out why their numbers are declining."

Q. How can the public assist Fish and Wildlife Services with this effort?

A. Presumably the public, if it sees any surf scoters while motoring, should run them over.

Q. Did the Nov. 5 issue of the Richmond Times-Dispatch run a help-wanted advertisement seeking applicants for management positions with a national restaurant chain?

A. Yes.

Q. What, exactly, did the headline say?

A. It said: "JOIN IN THE GROWTH OF HOOTERS!"

Q. If you do a column consisting primarily of random comical news items sent in by alert readers, do you still get all the money?

A. Yes. Here are some more:

And there were indeed more. (I got this from Lexis-Nexis, so I can't link to it. It's not in any of his books; I spent two hours driving from mega-bookstore to mega-bookstore to make sure of this.)

Strong stuff with which to respond to a punk kid. But Mr. Barry also sent me a handwritten postcard. You can view it here.

I was both thrilled that I had provoked a response and saddened that it was so unyielding. I sent off a second letter, unsigned by anyone but me, containing samples of the humor column I wrote for my high school's newspaper and a few other things. Read that letter here. One of the things I sent along was a line-by-line anagrammatization of Sylvia Plath's poem "Ariel," which you can read here.

Sure enough, Mr. Barry's column of March 3, 1996 had a whole bunch of anagrams that were truly hilarious but essentially pointless in the context of the column. Courtesy of Lexis-Nexis (again, no book available):

I make this statement in light of a terrifying incident that occurred on Christmas Eve, according to an article from the Newport (Ore.) News-Times, written by Gail Kimberling and sent in by alert reader Deane Bristow, whose names can be rearranged to spell "Sewer Bandito," although that is not my central point. (...)

As Winston Churchill (whose name can be rearranged to spell "Hurls Cow Chin Lint") put it: "We have nothing to fear but fear itself." Of course, he was safely over in England at the time.

I wasn't sure what to do now; he'd read my stuff and responded, in a way. I figured if he had wanted to laud my invention he'd have written me a letter lauding it, and I didn't see the point of repeatedly getting him to anonymously, transparently dis me in his columns. So I backed off and did not write a third letter.

In recent years, I feel Dave Barry has gotten back much of what he lost in the mid-nineties, and no one is happier about it than I am. Dave Barry and P.J. O'Rourke had more to do with the development of my humor style from about age 12 to age 19 than any other writers, and I both took everything I could from them and admired them for their awesome skills. Even though it was occasionally snide, I didn't bear Barry any ill will in my initial letter; at sixteen years old, I simply wanted my idol back the way I remembered him. I don't idolize him any more, but I'm sure as hell glad he's writing funny columns again.

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