Dear every teacher I ever
had:
Sorry I didn’t do the
reading.
There was a good show on
that night.
Oddly my obsessive years
of teevee consumption led to many jobs as a “pop culture expert."
In another civilization
that title would be a euphemism for “unemployable” – but we live in a society
where I can blog about ninja movie villains from the 1980’s and get paid more
than a public school teacher.
Just this week I was given
real U.S. currency to watch the movie KRULL and write trivia about
it.
I don’t know if I’m a
success story, a cautionary tale, or a sad commentary on our nation’s values.
You be the judge.
The tough part of my work
is that I’m 37 and it might be too late to learn a practical skill.
Of course I don’t really believe that.
But I know myself well
enough that if I were to make a radical life change and start at a non-profit,
I’d eventually say, “Fuck it, this is hard work compared
to ranking TV’s top mustaches.”
(Seriously, this trope ALWAYS comes up at
jobs. Like the way TIME Magazine can always do another cover
story on cholesterol, bloggers return to the well of “Pop
Culture Mustaches." No one actually believes they’re the first to do the story. Editors I’ve worked for
encourage writers to steal good ideas from other places. Because the
bosses know that the mouth-breathers who read their blogs have no long-term
memory or sense of history. If you don't believe me, then how do you explain the countless slideshows of "bad tattoos"?)
So I’m committed
to writing for inevitably short-lived websites and second-rate cable channels owned
by corporate entities that hope to gain some street-cred by featuring writings
on trashy movies, vintage television and nostalgic trivia.
This field has less of a
“corporate ladder” and more of a merry-go-round populated by lonley guys who
are one Entertainment Weekly subscription away from Aspergers.
In a way, working a pop
culture gig is like a game of chicken. Each writer is waiting for the
others to “get a real job” so that more work opens up for the rest of us.
Unless we all get replaced
by unpaid interns.
In my field this
inevitability is like global warming melting the ice caps: We know
it’s going to happen, but we try not to think about it and hope it occurs
after we’re dead.
I resent that my tightwad
bosses would replace me with some recent college grad who was born the same
year I saw The Texas Chainsaw Massacre III in the theater.
I came into my nerd-dom
before the internet turned history into low-hanging fruit. Today anyone
can learn the complete chronology of the Planet of the Apes saga in a few minutes. But I
studied it one Saturday Afternoon at a time.
And I dislike that any
nimrod can glean those facts (rarely fact-checked) and become an instant
expert.
It really cheapens the
work I do.
Kevin Maher is a writer-producer with impressive resume credits. (But that's because his resume doesn't include gigs like The Daily Dirt, Celebraddiction, The Horror Hacker, Hollywood Update, Star Vs Star, and Bravo's "Great Things About the Holidays.")
Visit his website for the good credits, sample writing and videos.
