Your Uncle Jerry's Blog

Leakage

[Government outrage at] a massive document dump

which WikiLeaks gave to news organizations.

—CNet News

lame old news organization

Joy and peace, Camper.

Your Uncle Jerry noticed recently that some young persons are being pursued by The Authorities for having leaked certain documents to the public. The documents were actually rather embarrassing to The Authorities, so naturally they wanted to keep those documents secret.

At his age, Uncle Jerry is opposed to leakage of any kind. If these documents had dribbled out over a long period of time, they might have gone undetected—at least in crowded places. But, in fact, the leak in this case was more like a gush, so naturally it got noticed right away.

Worse, the name of the crew that had the accident is “Wikileaks.” How silly is that? Why not wear a tee-shirt that says “Oops: My Bad.” Much better to have a name that conceals your problem. One suggestion: “Information Plumbing Solutions.”

Think about it, Camper. Let’s say your posse has an hysterical fear of gay campers, or of campers who don’t believe in the Second Coming. Don’t leak this embarrassing fact by naming your group “American Red Necks” or “Sarah’s Hate Mongers for Jesus.” That’s just asking to be discovered. Instead, think of a friendly, inviting, festive name; call yourselves “The Tea Party,” or maybe “Fair and Balanced.” This way, you can leak when you need to, and maybe no one will notice.

Because Authorities don’t have a sense of humor about leakage—their own or anyone else’s. That’s why they’re called Authorities. If you need to leak, a smart camper will do it discreetly. Which brings us to:

Your Uncle Jerry’s Rules of Leakage:

1. If an old person has been using your laptop, always check the settings.

2. Cross your knees before blogging or sneezing.

3. Sit next to someone you can blame.

Here’s what happens to Molly in chapter five. She knows how to hold out.

The Question of Orphanhood

If pity you can feel,

forgo your cruel employ.

Have pity on my lonely state:

I am an orphan boy!

—W.S. Gilbert

lame old pirate operetta

Peace and joy, Camper.

Young persons have wonderful questions; don’t listen to your parents on this. What do they know? Parents are impressed with you only when you’re a baby.

“Oh, would you listen at that? She just said ‘euphemism!’ Harold, come here! Tasha just said ‘euphemism!’ Harold! Get your mother on the phone.”

When you’re older and have something serious to discuss, parents are just not that good.

“Why does America have a bicameral legislature??? Now you listen here, young man. America may not be perfect, but you’d best be grateful to live here at all, instead of some place like . . . like France, where they don’t even have a legislature!”

But since they’re confused by everything you say, the best question to ask your mother or father is some version of the classic trio:

· who were my real parents?

· why does that woman keep calling for Dad?

· nothing bad happens when you put water in the gas tank, does it?

Your Uncle Jerry was an adopted child; that's why he has what the nice doctor calls “abandonment issues.”

Abandonment can excuse a multitude of issues—such as that prison-style tattoo you got in eighth grade and still haven’t showed your mom. When she confronts you at the swimming pool, you just say, “I needed to find out if you really love me—and you've answered my question.”

Chapter Four

Dark and Wintry Thoughts

Darkness and snow descend.
The clock on the mantelpiece has nothing to recommend.

--W.H. Auden
lame old defender of high culture.

Joy and Peace.

In winter, like many campers, Your Uncle Jerry finds himself a little blue. The snow. The darkness. The neighbors pass by on the street, judging decorations and straining to be cheerful.

There are so many things about winter that care nothing about you. Cold weather’s only purpose is to snuff out your life. The sun has turned away. You hate your boots, and there’s a hole in your glove. At night, the ice weasels sniff at the gaps around the door.

The holidays are all about family, but we both know that relatives are a mixed bag. When you’re a young person, especially, it’s amazing to discover that aunts and uncles can be so completely wrong about who you are.

“Here you go, Buddy. You love the white meat. And LOTS of gravy.”

“No, he hates white meat—don’t you, Buddy. Have some green-bean casserole.”

“What you wanna be when you grow up, kiddo? Stock broker, like me?”

“Buddy likes music. He wants to be a singer.”

“Give him some of my cranberry relish; he’ll eat that.”

“He’ll eat what he’s told to eat!”

“Oh, like you should talk.”

“Can’t make any money singing, you know. Terrible waste of time.”

“When I was coming up, the kids ate in the kitchen, and they were quiet . . .”

Uncle Jerry understands. It’s the crowd, my friend. The crowd itself makes you lonesome, and this is what your English teacher would call a paradox. (Crowd = Loneliness. Get it? You need to brush up, Camper; school starts again soon.)

Not that long ago, there was one person in your family who really understood. Maybe she was your grandmother, or an older cousin, or maybe that unmarried friend of the family who everybody winked about behind the hand. Unfortunately for you, it’s winter, and that person has died.

Here’s chapter three.

Sneak Preview

This is a hell of a good book.

—lame blurb about someone else’s book
(Sara Zarr’s book, if you must know.
It’s okay; go ahead and read it. Whatever.)

Peace and joy, campers.

Some young persons have made the occasional sarcastic remark about the pace at which Your Uncle Jerry adds a post to the blogosphere: not often, that is. A fair comment (although not the sort that most effectively motivates a person). In fact, Your Uncle Jerry has been busy writing, and he’s happy to share.

What’s he been writing? Not blogs, clearly. Not status updates on Facebook. Not even 140-character classics for the tweetscape. Uncle Jerry has gone old school: he’s written a novel.

Cool, you say, but is he going to post that novel here on the Uncle Jerry Blog? Yes, camper; yes, he is. Uncle Jerry’s Novel has twenty-five cheerful chapters, and he’s going to post one chapter per week just for readers of this space here.

If you’re looking for stalkers, vampires, and sublimated teen sex, you won’t find them here. Sorry, camper. This is nobody’s girl-fantasy about true love that overcomes a vexing difference in age, money, or species. No boy-myths here about righteous bolts of raw energy and a grim lust for revenge. If your taste is so last-semester, go to the mall.

Uncle Jerry writes only the truth. And, as you know if you’ve been listening, the truth . . . is hilarious. Uncle Jerry’s Novel—which, out of modesty, he’s calling Molly and the Geezer and the Death of Grandma Claire—is a joyful look at the highest of human values: greed, double-crossing, poor parenting, love, spite, and come-uppance. And a bit with a dog.

Chapters One and Two begin here.

Romeo, Juliet, and Google Talk

Romeo, Romeo . . . Wherefore art thou Romeo?
--Juliet, lame old love scene

Joy and peace.

In the famous play, Juliet asks, “Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou always online and never in mine arms?” Which is to say, “Dude, turn off the laptop and climb my freakin balcony.”

This may have been a sensible comment for Juliet, but for those of us without a balcony, things aren’t that simple. There are times when we only have online. For the modern Romeo and Juliet, sometimes, whole romances may begin and end online. Promises are made, hearts pledged, hopes dashed, doors slammed. Okay, once in awhile it can work . . . but not for you. (Just kiddin. Don’t be so serious.)

But think about it. How real is life online? There’s a fundamental falseness in a scene where you can adopt a name that isn’t yours and put up an image that isn’t what you look like. Doesn’t this whole deal make us all fakers? Yes. And that’s probably the coolest thing about it. You can be who you want to be. You can change. You can transform. You can experiment. You can fake it.

Now, hang on, mom and dad. Hold up there, Bishop. This is a totally different issue from whether you’re being authentic, truthful, or trustworthy. You already know that writing fiction is a way of lying to tell a truth. Online, we’re all fiction writers. Which brings us neatly to what our friends learn in the book Entr@pment:

All You Need to Know about Life Online

life online is as real as you are
so is life offline

Peace and joy.

In the Cards

The cards, they do not lie, my friend
--Ulrica, in Ballo in Maschera
lame old gypsy saying

Joy and peace, Camper. Today, back by popular demand: Uncle Jerry's Tarot Tent.

Gloomy in here? Never you mind. Psychic truth is often found in shadows. The cards do not lie, young camper, and why not? Because they do not care. How cold, you say, how dark. No no no. Think. Think how cold and dark your little world would be if the cards did care. Suppose they were to sugar-coat. Suppose they saw some lurking danger in your future, and said nothing—just to spare your feelings. What a disaster. No no, destiny must be faced with open eyes. If the cards cared, you could not trust them. And without trust, well, where would any of us be?

A quick three cards, my friend. The first . . . aww . . . two of cups. How dove-lovely. Two cups raised to lovers’ lips. Two pair of bright eyes meet . . . But wait, this is in the past. Tsk tsk. Oh please, don’t weep, young camper. Lovers’ lips may lie, but the cards do not.

Second card: eight of cups. Many things offer shiny promise, but today you find them cheap
and empty. (We might say your cup runneth NOT over, heh heh heh. That’s a joke, son. Psalm 23. Look it up; it’ll do you good.) But how right you are. The world is full of false promise, and by the way this is the subject of Uncle Jerry’s latest online Sunday sermon, available now at a website near you. (You look like you could use a sermon, son, if I may say so.)

So, young camper, love is in the past, and the present does not satisfy. Ah me. Ah life. Let’s move on.

Card three: Yes . . . the eight of wands. News approaching, the future unfolding. Tumult and shouting. But oh, how like the cards: the eight does not say WHAT you will learn, my friend. It says only that knowledge will come, and soon.

So there it is. Destiny. For good or ill, it comes. Be brave. Beware. For as you know, the cards do not lie.

And neither does your Uncle Jerry.

Joy and peace.

Masks and Maskosity

The mask is the face.
--Susan Sontag (lame old philosopher chick)

Joy and peace. Lately, some campers have written Your Uncle Jerry to ask about avatars. Avatars. Are they more than pictures? When should you change them? Do they cause a twitch or rash? May you have more than one? Should you talk with your parents about them? So many questions.

In Your Uncle Jerry’s Dictionary, young camper, “avatar” comes right after “mask,” which comes right after “face.” Now, a mask is something You put on, to put on a new You. But a mask is not JUST for Halloween.Think of how many masks you wear in RL. You have a mask for home, a mask for school, a face you wear to Grandma’s house, a face for that party at your friend’s house. Those are avatars of you, dontcha see. Different incarnations, different sides of you. And sometimes you make one up online so you can be someone totally new.

On social sites such as the wasteland known as MySpace, camper girls and boys should never show their home faces; they should always don a different mask. “Yes, my parents work at the embassy. I spend most of my time in Paris.”

But then the question is, who am I when I wear a mask? Am I still myself, or am I a new identity? Is a mask dishonest? This brings us to ---->

Your Uncle Jerry’s Rules of Mask-osity.

Rule 1. Your face is a mask.

Rule 2. A mask is your face.

Rule 3. There is no rule 3.

Rule 4. There is no point in trying to figure this out.

Can you wrap your head around this, Camper?

If you ever allowed the Real You to appear, we both know how that would look: a huge blob in a diaper, flopped in front of the tube, pounding gummy bears and pizza with four hands. In short, you’d be your little brother. To cover their shame at creating such a monster, your parents make you adopt an avatar called Good Manners. Are good manners dishonest? Yes, but won’t you be glad when your brother learns them?

Peace and joy.