It’s frustrating scrolling through the “comment” section of articles posted online by political journals, given that respondents often ignore basic grammar, spelling or common courtesy. Part of that is the impulse to  have an opinion immediately read and debated, rather than taking a certain amount of time to compose a polished paragraph or two. Still, the to-and-fro can be very entertaining, and last week I found the reaction to The Nation’s Jon Wiener’s web-only ruminations on the anniversary of John Lennon’s murder fairly fascinating.

Wiener’s Dec. 7 blog entry, “John Lennon’s Legacy,” was a silly (although undoubtedly sincere) nugget arguing that the man who imagined “no possessions,” even as he lived in luxury, played a part in ending the Vietnam War by penning the anthem “Give Peace a Chance.” The longtime Nation contributor, in considering the flawed film The U.S. vs. John Lennon,” in which “the married Beatle” (going back to the ’64 “Ed Sullivan” appearances) has a 1969 set-to with New York Times war correspondent Gloria Emerson, who had no time for protest ditties or rallies populated by young men who were terrified by the still-existent draft.

He writes: “The film presents the exchange as an example of the mainstream media’s relentless hostility to Lennon’s peace activism, and celebrates his put-down of Emerson. But 37 years later, it’s worth reconsidering Emerson’s question: did ‘Give Peace a Chance’ save a single life? Did the anti-war protest of 1969, or any other year, save any lives?” Wiener concedes that the war continued for several more years but concludes, “It was hard to see it in 1969, but eventually the U.S. did end its war in Vietnam. And today the people who were singing ‘Give Peace a Chance’ in 1969 can be glad they sang it.”

I don’t buy Wiener’s contention that the mainstream media was overtly hostile to Lennon (save perhaps The Wall Street Journal or National Review); more likely foreign reporters didn’t give him or his various public spectacles much thought. As it happens, like millions of people worldwide, I did take Lennon’s music, if not his Amsterdam bed-in or Yoko-influenced art projects, seriously and there are few pop musicians from that era who produced an equally significant body of work.

But was Lennon even a small actor in this country’s eventual pullout from Vietnam? Of course not. That’s sort of like saying, years from now, that George Clooney or Barbra Streisand (not to mention the impotent Iraq Study Group document from James Baker, Lee Hamilton and other Beltway worthies) were instrumental in ending the current Mideast conflict.

Anyway, some Nation readers, maybe to Wiener’s surprise, reacted in sober fashion. Mostly, that is, since the funniest response came from “Mask,” who wrote, “Lennon was a genius. Not many guys can pull off the ‘Wife Gives You Permission To Bang The Nanny Thing’ thing!” However, less than a half hour later, “Mask” wrote again and his or her comment rips Wiener’s post to shreds. The following isn’t elegant, but it’s insightful: “Great … and WHEN did the war end (throw in ‘And WHO won the 1972 Presidential election’ as well). This MYTH that ‘the kids’ ended the Vietnam War is an historical joke … John Lennon sang songs, ‘stayed in bed for peace,’ and made millions of dollars… but HIS effect on ending the war in Vietnam was about 0.0000001% of the rest of the ‘anti-war movement’s’ … which wasn’t much.”

“Amsterdam69” adds: “The problem is that, with Give peace a chance, John Lennon was preaching to the converted. That song did not do anything more to end the Vietnam [war] than Ob-la-di-ob-la-da did. Oh well, at least his ‘hair-peace, bed-peace’ stunt provided my city with a nice bit of folklore—and the Amsterdam Hilton with a still hideously over-priced room. Ironically, war correspondents probably did more to end the Vietnam War than anyone else by writing about the horrors, by taking pictures of them and by filming them.”

Cult of the Lazy

Not unrelated to the debasement of English in today’s web-only world was a superb piece by Joseph Epstein, “Language Guardian” in the Dec. 7 Wall Street Journal. Epstein, an acclaimed author and journalist, gives a plug to Robert Hartwell Fiske, who operates a monthly online journal, “Vocabula Review,” which documents the acceleration of lazy writing and speaking. Epstein demonstrates his allegiance—and admiration for—to Fiske with this sensible paragraph: “Why, for example, do we need the word ‘icon’ to describe hugely successful performers in show business, sports and elsewhere? We began with ‘star,’ which was replaced with ‘superstar’; and when it was discovered that too many superstars were floating around, icon was called in. After icon is used up, we shall, no doubt, have to go straight to ‘god.’”

It’s a rare writer who doesn’t fall victim to employing clichés—Epstein indicts himself for using the shorthand “24/7”—and I remember one upbraiding delivered to yours truly by a friend in New York Press’ art department over a decade ago. This fellow spent an hour or so reading the latest edition of the paper and found five instances of the words “So sue me” (including once in my column), circling each one in red pencil. John Strausbaugh and I got the message and were properly embarrassed.

Some of the phrases I find particularly irritating—and a few are really ancient— are “Back in the day,” “tipping point,” “incurious” (specific to George Bush), “measuring the drapes,” “shout-out,” “give it up for … ,” “no-brainer,” “outside the box” and one that sportswriters use to denigrate a ballplayer, such as “the immortal Bubba Crosby.”

Recently, nothing tops the concluding paragraph a Times editorialist committed to print in a Dec. 6 short about Robert Gates headlined “The Un-Rumsfeld.” Providing more evidence that The Times opinion writers are closer to colleagues at The Nation than The Washington Post, this person says, in stingy praise for Gates’ dire assessment of Iraq, “In any other time that would all be considered pretty bland stuff. But for an aspiring member of this administration, that came close to speaking truth to power.” (My emphasis.)

Right on, brother, and why not, for old time’s sake, give peace a chance and let’s get loaded.

On the subject of clichés, Americans can be thankful that Donald Trump is no longer referred to as “The Donald,” except by the most dim-witted journalists or television personalities. Nevertheless, he continues to be a staple of gossip and business columns, usually for no good reason. The Post’s “Page Six” last week gave Trump the opportunity to express his ignorance about the media, this time on the subject of Spy. He says: “Spy was a total failure, and they’re trying to resurrect its memory from the ashes. The magazine went out of business, and everyone lost a lot of money, including Graydon Carter … While I have always liked Graydon Carter [ahem], he is lucky to be working for Si Newhouse, especially with how badly Vanity Fair magazine is currently doing. Without Si, he’d just be another overweight editor with bad hair.”

I don’t have VF’s quarterly financial statement in front of me, and Carter’s sort of gone off the rails with his weird obsession over George Bush and Rudy Giuliani (in the Jan. issue, he absurdly called Giuliani “one of the most disliked mayors in the city’s history” until 9/11), but who cares about his weight and hair? Besides, isn’t Carter’s cultivated wild mane preferable to Trump’s lacquered ’do, a creation that helps, as he ages, contribute to his wax museum visage? It’s true that Spy was short-lived, but it wasn’t a failure: Look at almost magazine or newspaper today and the paw prints of the monthly are all over them.