'Of Thee I Zing' Delivers a 'Good Rant' on Society's Ills

I’ve always enjoyed a good rant, whether it’s Joe Queenan taking off on the dark side of American movies and entertainment in "Red Lobster, White Trash and Blue Lagoon" or P.J. O’Rourke mocking various aspects of government and international affairs in "Give War a Chance" or "All the Trouble in the World."

Now America’s best-looking political pundit Laura Ingraham takes a break from right-of-centre politics in her newest (and in my view funniest) book “Of Thee I Zing,” which is accurately subtitled as a survey of “America’s Decline — from Muffin Tops to Body Shots.” Though she now lives “inside” the notorious Washington-area Beltway with two children adopted from Guatemala and Russia, Ingraham is a Connecticut “homey,” born and raised in Glastonbury and an alumna of its high school before heading to Dartmouth and the University of Virginia Law School (Law Review).

She is very smart, and before turning to a successful career as a pundit was a “law clerk” in the U S Supreme Court — a short-term job held by perhaps the 27 brightest young law graduates in the nation. “Of Thee I Zing,” though, is certainly not about law. She says up front that she was inspired to write it by an especially appalling trip to a shopping mall in Northern Virginia (Tyson’s Corners, maybe?) where she saw “some of the most horrifying, unsettling images I had seen since Rosie O’Donnell posted her 9/11 video blog,” including indecently-dressed young girls, boys “pulling their pants down to showcase their pastel-colored boxer shorts,” a woman screaming at an old man, whom she had knocked off his Medicare mobility scooter with her huge Bugaboo Stroller, that her stroller “cost more than your last Social Security check” and a food court where a family “devoured individual troughs of lo-mein like hyenas hollowing a carcass… their faces literally pressed into the bowls.”

So, she decided, “the first step toward recovery in admitting we have a problem,” and courageously took it upon herself to “point out the cell phone barkers; the four telltale signs you are in a lousy restaurant… the worst children’s names in American history (and) each fraudulent holiday created by the card industry.” The first major topic is, logically enough, pregnancy and child rearing, with all the nonsense and rackets such as the Bugaboo double stroller for $1,500, but she really gets into high gear with “Stupid Kid Names.” According to a quoted article in “Social Science Quarterly,” it was seriously suggested that giving a kid names like “Kareem” or “Tyrell” can “predispose him to a life of crime and incarceration.” But her main ire is directed at “celebrities” who give their offspring idiotic names such as “Daisy Boo, Poppy Honey Rosie and Petal Blossom Rainbow” ("Naked Chef" Jamie Oliver and his wife Jools — maybe she’s just getting even?). Other celebri-tots will go through life as “Apple” (Gwyneth Paltrow), “Bronx Mowgli” (Pete Wents and Ashlee [sic] Simpson), “Jermajesty” and “Blanket” (Jermaine and the late Michael Jackson respectively) and this utter gem, “Kyd” (David Duchovny and Tea Leoni).

Then there are clothes: Ingraham objects to “Adjusters” and suggests that “people should reconsider the size of their underwear” if it requires constant manipulation in public. Again, there are “Night Drops;” those antisocial people who feel that “under cover of darkness” Rover can leave his calling cards for someone else to clean up the next morning. She dislikes grey ponytails on aging men, asking whether they “think it makes them look younger and more virile? Please. They look like a cross between Jerry Garcia and the Snow Miser from ‘The Year Without a Santa Claus’.” Nor, she feels, should men carry a “Murse” since men “should carry exactly two items: a wallet and a phone.” Purses are for women who need “coin purses, brushes, makeup, tissues and other female products” and women do not think a man carrying a purse is “cool or hip. But if you play your cards right, we might just loan you a set of matching pumps.” Also annoying are Starbucks, silly movie remakes like “Arthur,” take-offs on TV shows such as “The A Team” or (God help us!), “The Dukes of Hazzard,” and the current fad for shows about the undead — zombies, vampires and the like.

Then there are school annoyances, such as the grade school yearbooks that must be ordered in advance and for twenty bucks feature pictures of other people’s kids, most likely the PTA Moms’. Speaking of schools, there are reunions at which one is forced “to socialize with people I avoided like the plague when I was in school — and this is supposed to be fun?” With Ingraham, it’s personal: “I have never attended a college class reunion. Considering that I was under constant assault while editor of “The Dartmouth Review” and exactly five people rose to my defense — forgive me if I don’t join your reunion panel.”

Then of course there’s the ongoing “virtual reunion” of Facebook: “a colossal time-suck; a way for students and adults to avoid living… No, we don’t care that you scarfed down a Burrito Bowl at Chipotle today.” Its addicts’ “most meaningful relationship is with their computer keyboard.” And on the subject of relationships, Ingraham has a nice catalogue of bad “pick-up lines” guaranteed to make that vital First impression… You’re a loser;” she suggests that for one who “wants a decent woman’s attention, a simple hello will do.”

Alas, neither space nor the copyright laws permit doing full justice to all her salient and often novel points on mobile phone use (never call anyone from the bathroom), the awfulness of Disney World, and the horrors of air travel. So I will close with her four infallible signs of a bad restaurant: a fuss over “your reservation’ in a nearly empty restaurant, the lighting is too bright, skimpy portions (steak medallions “that should have been called steak pennies,” etc), and unclean bathrooms (rule: “The kitchen is no cleaner than the bathrooms”). Ingraham gives a grand romp through much that is awful in 21st century America, and I enjoyed it thoroughly.

A note for crime fans: the Mystery Book Club will have its next regular meeting at the Cos Cob Library at 1 p.m., Saturday, October 8. The book discussed will be Dog Tags by David Rosenfelt, and all are welcome.