What exactly is "egregious"?

"Nine city employees in the District of Columbia have been fired for using government computers to visit an "egregious" number of pornographic Web sites in 2007."

My vote is 42. [pc world]

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Snark on the web

Snark is every where these days, and although I love words, I love new words, and I love new uses for old words, there's something about the sound that snark makes, the way it gets stuck in the front of your nose as you say it, that rubs me the wrong way.

Besides, it seems as though the media has sought out upon a circle-jerk of snarkiness, and it is vaguely unsettling to me. So, in the immortal footsteps of Lewis Carroll, I went on a snark hunt of my own, trying to figure out what the hell the word means, and why people keep on using it.

A sensible place to begin any linguistic hunt is with the OED. They provide three definitions: as a noun, a snark is an imaginary animal (a la Lewis Carroll). Two uses as a verb: to snore or snort, or to nag or to find fault with.

The Urban Dictionary is more helpful in this case. They define snark as:

A witty mannerism, personality, or behavior that is a combination of sarcasm and cynicism. Usually accepted as a complimentary term. Snark is sometimes mistaken for a snotty or arrogant attitude.

This definition immediately brought to mind teenagers, and, as such, my youngest brother. I've heard plenty of his highbrow conversations with his emo indie friends that deftly fuse sarcasm and cynicism.. And besides, he's my reference for all things hip. I figured snark might be the new apathy. Ben, though, proved a false lead. He'd heard the word once at a debate tournament, written it off as terminally un-hip, and moved on.

So, I turned to the internet writ large: 109 google news hits contained the word snark. I eliminated those that were links to productions of Lewis Carroll plays, and began my exploration.

As it turns out, the press refers to themselves (and each other) as snarky A LOT. It's some sort of badge of honor. What originally piqued my interest was this article in Newsweek about John Edward's failure to attract media attention with his poverty tour. Hidden inside parentheses, Newsweek has a ready explanation for it:

Edwards's poverty campaign echoes RFK's, but times have changed (and Edwards is no RFK).(He does have a snarkier press corps than RFK. Not only did reporters not criticize the size of Kennedy's Virginia mansion, they wrote fawning prose about the senator in the hopes of scoring an invitation.)

Interesting. Particularly because I would assume that the writer in question is part of this *snarky* press corps, right? I thought to myself "wow. What a different article this would be if they covered the poverty tour, instead of covering how no one covers the poverty tour."

Jamison Foser, my future husband, wrote an insightful article for the organization "Media Matters" that nailed the issue on the head (Since I've yet to hear back from Keith Olbermann and Johann Hari, Jamison can join the list of official marriage proposals. Keith and Johann are just playing hard to get.)Here's how Foser breaks it down, pretty simple really (but read the rest of the article -- it's great):

America's political reporters don't like John Edwards, and have tried to destroy him.

In reference to the John Edwards haircut story that just won't die, Marc Ambinder from The Atlantic adds:

"There is a difference in the political reality: fairly or unfairly, a healthy chunk of the national political press corps doesn't like John Edwards. Fairly or unfairly, there's also a difference in narrative timing: when the first quarter ended, the press was trying to bury Edwards."

Wow. OK. Got it. The "snarky" press corps are actually actively fucking John Edwards out of a legitimate shot at the presidency. They've waged war. Awesome.

But I digress. Let's track some snarkiness on the internet. Who are the snarkiest of the snarkists? (Snarkist is my word -- you heard it here first).

So the word gets bandied around in articles, but also becomes an entire subgenre: the snark. You have The Snark-Free Corner (just good ol’ fashioned criticism) at Comic Book Resources, sworn enemy (only in my head) of The “Snark Attack,” and entire column of the Seattle Post Intelligencer where opinion columnists get to air their…snarky(?) views of the week. Here's a good one:

Attorney General Alberto Gonzales seemed anxious to get away from congressional testimony and return to restoring the tarnished image of justice. The highly impeachable AG needs mentoring from O.J. Simpson on the patience and perseverance required for a mission where people wonder why the culprit is posing as the rescuer.

Even if they don't go so far as the SPI, apparently most publications have their resident snarkists. Leading the ranks is Michael Kinsley, who is "Dean of the Snark School of Journalism." Slate columnist Anne Applebaum points to NYT's Maureen Dowd as dealing in some trademark snark. Not to be outdone, apparently Dana Milbank at the Washington Post "supplies the paper's daily dose of snark with a page-two news column" (according to the UK's "The Guardian".) Female bloggers at the Yearly Kos promise to bring "the wine, cheese and, of course, the snark" to their round table discussion. Although he's not a journalist, Simon Cowell at least bears a mention for his label, The Sultan of Snark.

Right wing bloggers don't seem quite so in love with the snark, which makes me think the term is a leftist phenomenon (and hence, probably a communist plot). They accused The New Republic of "offering snark instead of substantive answers" in regard to the recent controversy over “Baghdad Diarist.” Additionally, although it makes me twitch to even provide this link, Michelle Malkin condemns Joe Biden's "snark and smarm" in response to the idiotic question he got during the Youtube debate from the right wing gun nut.

The Brits are, in typically snarky Brit fashion, trying to defend their elevated sense of rhetorical flourish. The Guardian calls American journalists out big time here:

You didn't invent snark, we had snottiness a long time ago. Except we won't do it in terms of a shtick of populism against a decadent elite, but apply the format to a besieged culturalist sensibility that appeals to our audience. Instead of a call to crash the gates, sound the alarm of barbarians at the gates.

(I have no real idea what that last sentence means) But ouch. Despite the British scorn, the word at least offers some playful literary endeavors. Here are some of my favorites:

This is probably my favorite snark-related sentence: “Behind the snark lies a genuine shiver of revulsion towards the complacency and sun-baked decadence of the Reagan ‘80s." We also have “snark-slinging hipster with an ax to grind.” ; “I can feel a snark itching to hit the keyboard.” ; “a snark bomb”; top-shelf snark; to snark on them. ; And, as a verb, I can't think of a good way to snark this.

PS: Even scientists love the snark. Apparently, there's a link between snarks and minors and contractions (probably doesn't mean folks under the age of 18, but I can't be sure). There are complicated charts and equations and science mumbo-jumbo that perhaps mathgimp can interpret. It contains the following sentence:

Every snark has Petersen's graph as a minor...Of course, it's not necessarily easy to find the series of contractions.

And there ya have it. A meandering journey through the minefield of internet-related snarks. I don't have any snarky, off hand comments to end this post with. I generally just write about things that interest me without really having much of a point, so if you've read this far for some sort of deductive brilliance at the end, you've just been snarked.

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Making up words

The Brits do a lot of things better than us - their politicans invent words like "bemerded," we get "nucular." I'm going to try to get my hands on Foyle’s Philavery: A Treasury of Unusual Words (Amazon doesn't seem to have it). Until then, this book review is a fun introduction to some of the awesome words Foyle finds - check it out.

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I need to stop working for the government or I will die alone, bitter, and friendless

Warning: this post contains a lot of griping about work. I'm sorry. I never wanted to become the person who blogs about hating their job. Consider it a "how to communicate inside the government" guide.

So, I get bored easily. I've started and stopped a PhD, taught, coached debate, worked at the Archives, and had two jobs at the LOC since 2004. I can't play poker or pool because they don't evolve quickly enough for my taste. I like people who are interested in, and talk about, many different subjects. I am about to stop speaking to absolutely everyone that works with me, because a blinding rage rises within me every time anyone opens their mouth in my vicinity.

Quick background: absolutely everyone here loves me, loves talking to me, loves emailing me. They think I'm focused, dedicated, shy, self-effacing, sweet, patient, and funny. They are all hatching plans so that keep me in this wretched place forever. I get told this about 3 times a week. It makes me feel warm, fuzzy, and like a caged animal who needs to fight for her life.

Everyone I work with is also extremely intelligent. People have lived on 4 continents, everyone has an advanced degree, and they've all done fascinating things with their lives. We work in politics, which you think would incite nuanced, analytical conversation - or at least bitter, sardonic commentary.

No such luck. Instead, our communication is limited to a daily and weekly themes. Niceties such as:

"hello!"
"how are you?"
"you look tired - everything alright?"
"Don't throw yourself out the window, you won't be here forever."

are meant to build rapport and establish a friendly work place atmosphere. Great. Love it. However, beyond that, all I want is for everyone to either ignore me or push the conversation forward.

Themes of the week are commentary on something or someone in the office. For example, I stumbled into work one Monday, exchanged my morning niceties, poured myself the last dregs of coffee, and forgot to screw the top back onto my travel mug. I went to take my first sip and the entire cup of coffee spilled all over me, creating a design on my pale-pink shirt that rather looked like a Rorschach inkblot. Other than the second-degree burns, it was actually pretty funny. Definitely worth mocking for a day, maybe two. Instead:

Tuesday: "Did you remember a change of clothes today? We were thinking about banning you from coffee for your own safety."
Wednesday: "At least you're wearing brown today - it'll blend right in!"
Thursday: "Wow - two days of not wearing coffee. You turned over a new leaf!"
Friday: "She's wearing white! Better hide the coffee!"

And so on, every morning, I swear to you, for two solid weeks. I have no problem with them making fun of me. I have a problem with the uncreative, mind-numbingly boring monotony, and how convinced everyone seems that conversations like these create tight-knit, long lasting friendships.

In addition to our meta theme of the week, we talk about the weather and the days of the week every single day. When I taught pre-school, we got to sing songs. Here, we just pass the same phrases off as conversation.

Days of the week are my favorite:

Monday: "It's Monday." Tuesday: "Still feels like a Monday." Wednesday: "We made it to hump day!!!" Thursday's special, because we have two options: "[It's almost/Wish it were already] Friday!" Friday: "At least it's Friday."

Be warned: you have to have this conversation with 4-5 people over the course of the day. Every day. Or you get kicked out of the government. It's one of their rules.

Here's how we talk about the weather, daily, as an entire office:

It [still hasn't/won't stop/hopefully will/better not] [rain/snow].
It sure is [hot/cold] outside! (even when it's not).
I wish I were [y place], which is [warmer/colder] than here.

And then everyone sighs. At the same time.

The weather conversation inevitably leads to "Wow, Kellie, you sure spend a lot of time outside." Which is true. I am outside, regardless of weather, for absolutely all of the time I'm not stuck at my desk. It's partially because I'm a chain smoker, and partially because I hate it in here. In my work world, they think I'm an avid walker/coffee drinker. We'll go with that.

But now I have a new problem entering and leaving the building. It concerns two very nice police officers who guard my favorite entrance to the building. We'll call them Officer Larry and Officer Bob. To the best of my understanding, Officer Bob and Officer Larry both used to have crushes on me. Bob claimed me. Larry backed off. Larry is cute. Bob is not.

So I made up a boyfriend. They teased me about my Russian boyfriend everyday. Larry would whisper sweet nothings to me in Russian. It was hilarious.

Then, tragedy stuck. Larry got transferred to another guard station, so it was just me and Bob, six times daily, as I was fleeing and re-entering the building. Left without Larry's sense of humor, Bob has reverted to the "we must exchange the same words everyday" game. Every time he sees me, he asks, teasingly, "Where's Larry?" "Where are you hiding Larry?"

He finds this hilarious, but clearly I'm not hiding Larry. Haven't seen him is weeks. And, really, there are only about three ways I can say "I don't know, where is he?" or "Maybe he's hiding from you." Or "Maybe he quit and went to Vegas" and still sound like I'm joking. Honestly, I can no longer take the "Where's Larry? I know you know where he is!" joke thirty times a week. It actually causes me anxiety every time I go outside, simply because I have nothing new to say, and neither does he, and I feel like we're a scratched CD and I can't hit eject.

I hate it here. I hate that I just wrote for 45 minutes straight because I have no work to do. I'm becoming more and more socially inept with each passing day. I need to leave the government before I become a reclusive, mute cat-lady in the woods somewhere.

But, ya know, at least it's Friday.

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