My Turn: Actually, I like The Insiders (If you don’t, don’t read it)
Permission to come aboard the literary high ground, please?
To the ever-growing faction of Insiders-bashing letter-writers: It’s important to know that the newspaper is not exclusively prepared for your discerning and distinctive linguistic palates alone. As a former Monitor writer, I learned that for myself the hard way, after being coldly rebuffed by repeated letters and phone calls demanding that content be limited to Ray Duckler columns, “Dennis the Menace” and the word jumble.
I was joking there. I’m allowed to do that, right?
Newspapers are a wonderful thing. Right there in our hands, our daily playground of news and ideas. Something for all of us. Better said: something for each of us. He likes A&E, she likes Sports. He likes Timmins, she likes Blackman. He likes Duckler. … Heck, we all like Duckler.
Me, I’m not a Food page guy. At 45, my cooking skills are limited to hamburgers, Swedish pancakes and pasta with butter, and that’s likely the way it’s going to stay. Even so, I’ve got it in my head that’s not a good case for demanding that particular section of the paper just up and go away. Instead, I probably just won’t read it next week.
Which seems like a good suggestion for you Insiders haters: The next time you see the handsome heads of Ben Conant and Keith Testa at the top of a column, simply look away. Difficult, I know. But it can be done.
You know what I love most about the Insiders, in addition to the fact that they provide a few moments of light-hearted (dare I say fun?) reprieve from the serious and too-often disheartening news of the day? They don’t take themselves too seriously.
It’s a pretty darned good quality, don’t you think?
Keep up the good work, boys. There are plenty of us “immature,” “sophomoric,” “juvenile” and “childish” readers out here in support.
(Dave Cummings lives in Epsom.)