THEY TRANSPLANT FUNNY BONES, DON'T THEY?
or, the (especially pissy) idiot letter of the
week.
Yeah, I know. At this time of the year, in the
season of love and peace and glad tidings, I should be trying to find a little
more patience and tolerance and goodwill toward my fellow man (and woman). And
I am. Really. But when people keep blowing through stop signs and cutting to
the front of checkout lines and writing really, really stupid letters to the editor, I can't hold back
forever...
As a transplant recipient (kidney/pancreas/bone marrow), I thought Bill Toland's "Saturday Diary" showed great insensitivity and lack of compassion for the nearly 100,000 people in this country who are awaiting a lifesaving organ transplant, 18 of whom will die each day ("An Old-Fashioned Shopper Meets Modern-Day Retail," Dec. 15).
As someone who recommended that essay to his readers, as someone who recognizes satire when he reads it, and as someone who does not take himself, his family, nor any of their various ailments so seriously that he could not possibly write a letter as dour and pissy (I know, but I couldn't resist) and insanely hyper-sensitive as this one, I thought Jack Silverstein of Monroeville showed great absurdity and appalling lack of perspective for the nearly 100,000 people in this county who are smart enough to recognize a harmless joke when they see it.
(That said, don't ever let me catch any of you cracking cancer, diabetes, glaucoma, hypertension, lactose intolerance, or prostatitis jokes, lest you suffer the wrath of my poison pen and poisoned sense of self.)
He wrote, in part, "During the holiday season, a weekend space in a mall parking lot is more valuable than a black-market kidney. You think I'm exaggerating, but which would you rather have in your hand right now, a lifetime reserved parking pass at the mall of your choosing, or an ice-cold kidney? Be honest."
Yes, he did write that. Just a few paragraphs before he wrote that his wife had died in a hang-gliding explosion. Maybe she should have written a letter to the editor too.
But, alas, she did not. Perhaps because she, like (almost) all the rest of us, is capable of sensing what writers and seventh-grade English students like to call hyperbole. Or what writers and freshman English students like to call amplification. Or what writers and people with a sense of humor like to call a joke.
(Something tells me it's not a barrel of laughs over at the Silverstein house. And I'm guessing that they never, ever eat split pea soup. Or kidney beans.)
Sixty-five thousand, or 65 percent, of those on the transplant waiting list are waiting for a kidney; another 10 percent are awaiting a multi-organ transplant that includes a kidney.
I'd be willing to bet that at least ninety-nine thousand, or 99 percent, of those people have a better sense of humor than Mr. Silverstein.
I doubt very much that any of these candidates, or their loved ones, would rather have a lifetime parking space in lieu of a kidney.
I doubt very much that any of them, or their loved ones, would think that Bill Toland meant that sentence to be taken seriously. But I'll bet at least a few of them would rather have a Playstation 3, or maybe a date with Jessica Alba, than an ice-cold kidney.
(Note to Mr. Silverstein: that, too, was a joke. I did not mean to disparage anyone with failing kidneys, Nintendo Wiis, or preferences for Johnny Depp.)
Without a lifesaving transplant, their "lifetime" parking pass would be short-lived.
True. But with that parking pass, their short lives would much more enjoyable.
I believe that Mr. Toland and the Post-Gazette owe an apology to the thousands of recipients and candidates in the PG's reading area, as well as to the beautiful organ donors and their families, for their callousness, insensitivity and indifference.
If they should apologize to anyone for anything, it should be for coaxing Mr. Silverstein out of his humor-impaired hole and then loosing him upon the rest of us. If they feel they must address those thousands of recipients and candidates in their reading area, they should apologize for the possibility that someone will read Mr. Silverstein's letter and assume they are equally mirthless.
My only wish is that Mr. Toland never needs a lifesaving organ, especially a kidney.
My only wish is that Mr. Silverstein one day learns to laugh again. (It is the best medicine, you know.)
If he does, I'll be the first to offer him my parking space.
If he does, I'll be the first to congratulate him. And to be sure that no one ever makes him laugh so hard that he...
...well, you know what I mean.
As a transplant recipient (kidney/pancreas/bone marrow), I thought Bill Toland's "Saturday Diary" showed great insensitivity and lack of compassion for the nearly 100,000 people in this country who are awaiting a lifesaving organ transplant, 18 of whom will die each day ("An Old-Fashioned Shopper Meets Modern-Day Retail," Dec. 15).
As someone who recommended that essay to his readers, as someone who recognizes satire when he reads it, and as someone who does not take himself, his family, nor any of their various ailments so seriously that he could not possibly write a letter as dour and pissy (I know, but I couldn't resist) and insanely hyper-sensitive as this one, I thought Jack Silverstein of Monroeville showed great absurdity and appalling lack of perspective for the nearly 100,000 people in this county who are smart enough to recognize a harmless joke when they see it.
(That said, don't ever let me catch any of you cracking cancer, diabetes, glaucoma, hypertension, lactose intolerance, or prostatitis jokes, lest you suffer the wrath of my poison pen and poisoned sense of self.)
He wrote, in part, "During the holiday season, a weekend space in a mall parking lot is more valuable than a black-market kidney. You think I'm exaggerating, but which would you rather have in your hand right now, a lifetime reserved parking pass at the mall of your choosing, or an ice-cold kidney? Be honest."
Yes, he did write that. Just a few paragraphs before he wrote that his wife had died in a hang-gliding explosion. Maybe she should have written a letter to the editor too.
But, alas, she did not. Perhaps because she, like (almost) all the rest of us, is capable of sensing what writers and seventh-grade English students like to call hyperbole. Or what writers and freshman English students like to call amplification. Or what writers and people with a sense of humor like to call a joke.
(Something tells me it's not a barrel of laughs over at the Silverstein house. And I'm guessing that they never, ever eat split pea soup. Or kidney beans.)
Sixty-five thousand, or 65 percent, of those on the transplant waiting list are waiting for a kidney; another 10 percent are awaiting a multi-organ transplant that includes a kidney.
I'd be willing to bet that at least ninety-nine thousand, or 99 percent, of those people have a better sense of humor than Mr. Silverstein.
I doubt very much that any of these candidates, or their loved ones, would rather have a lifetime parking space in lieu of a kidney.
I doubt very much that any of them, or their loved ones, would think that Bill Toland meant that sentence to be taken seriously. But I'll bet at least a few of them would rather have a Playstation 3, or maybe a date with Jessica Alba, than an ice-cold kidney.
(Note to Mr. Silverstein: that, too, was a joke. I did not mean to disparage anyone with failing kidneys, Nintendo Wiis, or preferences for Johnny Depp.)
Without a lifesaving transplant, their "lifetime" parking pass would be short-lived.
True. But with that parking pass, their short lives would much more enjoyable.
I believe that Mr. Toland and the Post-Gazette owe an apology to the thousands of recipients and candidates in the PG's reading area, as well as to the beautiful organ donors and their families, for their callousness, insensitivity and indifference.
If they should apologize to anyone for anything, it should be for coaxing Mr. Silverstein out of his humor-impaired hole and then loosing him upon the rest of us. If they feel they must address those thousands of recipients and candidates in their reading area, they should apologize for the possibility that someone will read Mr. Silverstein's letter and assume they are equally mirthless.
My only wish is that Mr. Toland never needs a lifesaving organ, especially a kidney.
My only wish is that Mr. Silverstein one day learns to laugh again. (It is the best medicine, you know.)
If he does, I'll be the first to offer him my parking space.
If he does, I'll be the first to congratulate him. And to be sure that no one ever makes him laugh so hard that he...
...well, you know what I mean.
Posted: Sat - December 22, 2007 at 02:39 PM
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