Thursday, June 6, 1996
It’s not all fun and games in the column business
I hate the information superhighway. I’m driving on it with no
maps, no AAA, in a ’73 Dodge Colt, while everyone around me is
speeding by in a ’97 Lexus. Our world’s communication systems were
so much easier back in the days when they were harder.
Why is it that the Internet seems to work in some special way
that only I am not aware of? Whenever my roommate tries to hold my
hand into the system, the computer (realizing that Brian
Birkenstein wants access) decides that on a whim, it will deny
access today. My roommate will exclaim "Damn, this NEVER happens!
It must be some modulated transforming hard disk conscription
error," which translated into English for dummies means access
denied to Brian Birkenstein.
It’s like when I was 7 and my parents told me we were getting a
pool to replace our sandbox. I cried for weeks at the thought of
losing my precious sandbox. I wanted what I knew, what was
familiar, what was simple. I could handle the sandbox: pick up
sand, put in bucket, dump on brother’s head, get beat up Â
easy. Swimming, however, that’s a whole new thing, and I was afraid
of the change. Although I was already an Olympic gold medal free
styler at age 5, it had never meant sacrificing my sand before. I
was afraid that  You know Brian, you could write a column
about that.
"You could write a column about that." Over the past year, if I
had a nickel for every time I heard that suggestion, right now I’d
be rolling in at least $6.54. In case you thought I was writing
about the Internet, you were wrong. I’ve fooled you because you
made the mistake of reading the first couple paragraphs of useless
fluff that I’m allowed. This being my last regular column
(referring to my non regular one in the grad issue; non regular
meaning I won’t mention beer), I just want to reflect on what I’ve
enjoyed about writing this year and what I’ve hated. For those not
interested in my self-reflection, there is always the other
alternative  STUDY, damnit, it’s 10th week.
I’ll start with the things that I didn’t like so that I don’t
end on a bitter note (I don’t want to leave you with a bad feeling
on your way into finals):
1. Never really knowing if the column is funny by the time it
reaches print. I mean, by that point, I’ve already brainstormed,
written a preliminary rough draft, revised, analyzed, reworked, had
a few beers, edited and finagled word usage. And then I’m ready to
really get started. It’s a long tedious process to get these things
out. (Warning: If you believe all this B.S., you should have your
head examined because your brain may have slipped out of your ear).
Fortunately, as my friend Jo pointed out, "Is your picture in the
paper?" "Yes." "Well, then at least there’s one funny thing."
2. Colons and semicolons are the bane of my existence. I never
know: where to put them; why to use them and what the; hell they
are even doing existing on this planet: If it was up to me, I would
banish these rogue punctuation marks to a distant planet. Any you
have seen in my columns in the past were inserted by my editor in a
vicious attempt to malign my anti-colon campaign. Someone once
pointed out that if I wanted to have better use of the colon, I
should lay off the red meat (insert drum sound for bad joke here:;
da da chh).
3. I’ve griped about this before and I realize it’s too late for
it to do any good, but I haven’t been able to piss off enough
people to get them to write in about my columns. I realize that’s
what keeps the Viewpoint section going: fear. Sad, but true. I
would like to pay special thanks to Patrick Burns for writing in to
express his dislike for my pro-bathroom graffiti policy. By the
way, Patrick, I got another good one off the bathroom wall: "To do
is to be" ÂJean Paul Sartre. "To be is to do" ÂAlbert
Camus. "Do be Do be Do" ÂFrank Sinatra.
4. When my refrigerator is empty and I’m forced to go to
Breadsticks at 11:30 at night to buy myself more liquid inspiration
before starting my column. You think as a professional writer (wait
 I’ve never gotten any money for this), I’d have learned by
now to keep the essentials on hand: Webster’s Dictionary, Macmillan
Grammar Guide, IBM Computer, Miller Beer.
Well, I suppose I’ll move on to the things that I’ve enjoyed
because in this category, I’m full of it  things I’ve liked,
I mean.
1. Now I have a legitimate excuse to carry a pen into a bar. You
know, just in that off chance I happen to meet someone whose phone
number I might want. "Don’t you think that’s a little cheesy,
bringing a pen here? You’re a sleazebag." "No no, it’s OK. I’m a
writer." "In that case, my number is 555-1212, give me a call."
2. Before I began writing for the paper, I didn’t do much
pleasure-reading because it was always much more rewarding to nap.
Since I’ve decided that I possibly want to go into writing humor,
I’ve been reading various humorous authors regardless of my
roommate’s recent comment that I didn’t need to bother ever reading
again since I just graduated. It used to be that my spoken jokes
all came from movies or television. If they allowed me to major in
Simpsons Phraseology here at UCLA, I would have graduated magna cum
something or other.
Now I can say my written jokes are influenced by authors (who
are people), such as Dave Barry, Lewis Grizard and James Lileks,
instead of actors (who are animals), such as Bugs Bunny, Scooby Doo
and Deputy Dog.
3. I like having a forum to vent my deeply meaningful
frustrations in front of thousands upon thousands of people
(fantasy). "Hey dude, we’re out of paper to put on the floor so
Spot doesn’t shit on it." "Just use that Birkenstein guy’s column,
that’s about all it’s good for" (reality).
4. The best thing about writing has been that I’m able to shut
up all those people who continue to ask "So what do you want be if
you grow up?" I tell them in a self-important tone, "Oh, I want to
be a writer." They all seem impressed, of course that means they’ve
probably never read my stuff, but at least they seem appeased. My
copy of Writer’s Digest that I leave lying around on my coffee
table (which actually has a dual function as a cardboard box) is
mostly for show. I think I might have done the crossword puzzle. At
least, however, I finally subscribe to a magazine where the girls
keep their clothes on.
Before I end the year, I want to thank several people who have
made my 15 minutes of fame possible. My editors who gave me three
quarters to write, and practically wrote my articles for me. Well,
at least in the colon/semicolon department. Peter Hamilton and
George Tsai, who whether they know it or not, as columnists last
year inspired me to write this year. Most importantly, I would like
to thank Cherese Laulhere. Although she can not be here with me
now, she was there when I started writing. I would like to thank
her for everything she was able to give me.
Birkenstein is a UCLA alumni, class of 1996. He would like to
wish everyone good luck on finals. Just be sure to get plenty of
E4*# and you’ll do fine. E4*# is Colombian coffee, extra sugar and
extra whitener (not cream, but whitener), and if you didn’t know
that, you’re obviously not a very experienced student and will need
all the luck he’s wished you.