The editor of the Times Colonist got a letter of complaint one day this year: “I completely am driven crazy by Jack Knox’s ridiculous articles,” it began. “He sensationalizes stories in his own ridiculous mellow-dramatic ways. I want to tell him to shut it. … He makes me mad all the time. Even just the headlines make me mad. … I’d love it if you buried his articles. I am sure his fans will know where to find his smut. PS: Love, love, love Eric Akis and his recipes.”
To which I can only say that A) Akis is dead to me (unless he brings snacks) and B) like Rob Ford, I am so, so, so, so sorry.
Well, no, but I am occasionally in a stupor, according to some. Without further ado, here’s a selection of comments from readers who found my efforts lacking in 2013.
• When the Northern Gateway hearings came to town, I wrote that the voices of people in suits and ties would carry more weight than those of the hippies.
“In over 30 years of reading the Times Colonist, I have never seen a piece of journalism that matches the biases and prejudices embedded in Jack Knox’s Pipeline’s Biggest Foe is Middle Canada,” wrote one Victorian. “We need to resist this kind of journalism as much as we need to resist the pipeline.”
Another man was more succinct: “Jack Knox should cover fashion events and leave community events to journalists who report on what people say, rather than what they look like.”
• Fans of the late Stompin’ Tom Connors put the (cowboy) boots to me after I wrote that his music was awful: “This article is horribly written and offensive to Canadians,” declared one.
“He was an honest voice of everyday Canadians,” another said. “If you don’t get a lift from Sudbury Saturday Night, you may not have a pulse.”
• Although B.C.’s roadside driving bans lack an appeal process, they have worked in keeping drunks off the road, I wrote. That earned this rebuke: “I suggest you stick to writing smart-ass remarks about trivial matters, and leave constitutional law until you have thought a bit more about it.”
• I thought it pretty funny when the Downtown Victoria Business Association’s Chill, We Could All Live in Moose Jaw parking posters ruffled feathers in Saskatchewan.
Others disagreed.
“Shame on you,” wrote a Prairie native living in Victoria. “I’ve never read such insulting garbage in my life. … What is so great about living here? It’s a money-grubbing city.”
• When I poked fun at the ostracization of smokers, this came from a Lower Mainland anti-tobacco activist: “I have a reasonably good sense of humour but despite Jack Knox’s extremely lame attempts at it (Sure, Smoking Is Legal, But Does It Matter? Feb. 24), I find absolutely nothing funny about a product which, when used exactly as intended by the manufacturer, kills more people globally EVERY SIX HOURS than were killed in all of the 9/11 attacks.”
• After the Pkols fuss: “You wrote that Mount Doug was named for ‘Doug, the first local high school student to lose his virginity in the back of a Studebaker after the hilltop parking lot opened.’ Do you really think this is witty and appropriate for a family newspaper?”
• In response to a pre-election column that slagged every party: “This is about the most ill-informed and redundant editorial that I have ever read. I certainly hope that this man does not receive a cent for this time-wasting drivel.”
• When the last-minute collapse of the B.C. NDP mirrored that of Toronto’s hockey team, I wrote: “Someone measure Adrian Dix for a Maple Leafs sweater.” The image proved too much to a long-suffering (is there any other kind?) Toronto fan: “Change the sweater to a Canucks one. At least the Leafs made a series out of it, unlike your Canucks who went out in a whimper in four straight.”
• Even poking fun at myself drew some online criticism: “He has characterized himself as an Oaf, but this self-flagellation presents more as an amoral lust for attention and the adoption of any means necessary to gain it, regardless of the cost to others.”
• “Sir: Your Oct. 1st column includes another misuse of ‘them’ when ‘they’ is correct,” wrote a reader who was left wincing (again) by one of my grammatical train wrecks. After offering some instruction, the writer signed off with “Hoping (still) for better.”
Yeah, well, I’m hoping (still) to grow bangs, but that ain’t going to happen neither.
• Speaking of which, some simply didn’t think much of my appearance: “By the way, I liked you better with hair.” Must be a longtime subscriber. Others were kinder: “You ain’t got the looks, butcha got the brains, buddy.” Thanks, I think.
And thanks for reading. I truly am, a few barbs aside, grateful to be in this privileged position. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
