Human Nature #1 Fan
by Stuart Wade
This
week’s sign that Nostradamus (or was it P.T.
Barnum?) was right: If the contents of the Southwestern Bell Greater Austin
white pages impart anything of redeeming sociological value, then the Dallas
Cowboys are at least four times bigger than Jesus here.
Since last year, something called a “Personalized Listing,” including an
optional “Personality Logo” and a “Line of Distinction,” allows Austin
residents to pay a fee for a graphic and text message to appear next to their
listing in the phone book. So, in other words, if you are “Mr. and Mrs. John Q.
Public,” with address and phone listed, you can now add an illustration chosen
from an available list of about sixty, plus add your own message, e.g. an
illustration of a horse whip augmented by the text, “we love light bondage and
discipline” (that’d get your phone ringing).
According to the white pages, Personality Logos (an oxymoron at best), “make
your listing distinctive” while Lines of Distinction act as a “vanity plate,”
enabling you to say what you want (up to 34 characters).
Our attention-span-impaired staff recently conducted an astonishingly
unscientific study of the white pages and learned that sports, God, and
commerce (in that order) are the driving forces of human nature. All this from
the phone book!
Back to the Dallas Cowboys versus God for a second. While nearly 50 Austin
residents paid to declare their affection for the super bunch from Irving who
— now more than ever — could use a 20-second arrogance time-out, only a dozen
or so brave souls paid Ma Bell for the right to praise the Big Man Upstairs. At
least we’ll know whom to call next time another member of America’s Team gets
caught with his pants down and a fistful of contraband.
As a matter of fact, sports top the list of passions Austinites unabashedly
endorse in their white pages proclamations. Pro football teams lead the way,
with votes cast not only for the Cowboys but also for Oakland, Pittsburgh, San
Diego, San Francisco, and Washington. In a chilling NBA note, our boys in the
off-white lab coats had to dig all the way down to the “M”s before uncovering a
single “Go Spurs” reference.
In the collegiate ranks, “hook ’em” was sent packing by “gig ’em,” as more
Texas A&M than UT backers forked over money. Either this means that a)
Aggies and their money are sooner parted, or b) that nobody in Austin quite
wants to mount that Longhorn bandwagon just yet.
In matters of the spirit, one Line of Distinction implores “read the book
Jesus Saves,” but what book would He save?
“Hello? Barnes & Noble? Do you have a book called Jesus Saves?”
Then there’s l’amour. Looking in on the numerous Lines of Distinction
beginning with the words “I love” or “we love,” we found that our fellow
citizens love to: “sell homes”; “decorate”; and “make leather boots.” They also
want us to know they feel strongly about cats, home remodeling, and “tree
work.”
What our team of semi-professional sociologists (we play every Monday night)
really wanted to glean from this exercise was: What would only the boldest
minority of Austinites decree with their stentorian Lines of Distinction? (“the
phone company sucks”?)
What passionate declarations did a fearless few issue?
“Pets make it a better world.” “Knitting is my pastime.” “I love to work
puzzles.”
Unfulfilling.
However, just as we were packing up the graduated cylinders for the night, we
found it: the ultimate, open-ended Great Philosophical “Aha!” — the single
Line of Distinction that washed over our dulled minds like so much psychic
shampoo:
“It does not get any better.”
Words of a grim cynic or hopeful pragmatist? Exactly. n Stuart Wade co-authored Drop Us a Line, Sucker, along with his brother James.
He is still ducking public appearances since his “Radio Hell” feature was
printed.
This article appears in July 26 • 1996 and July 26 • 1996 (Cover).