Cynical Columnist Gets More Cynical

 

    You think I seem a little sallow lately?  A kind of drawn, hunted look about me?  Deepening circles under the eyes?

 

    You're right.  I'm sick.

 

    But it's nothing physical.  Just emotional.  Or, I don't know, maybe even psychotic.

 

    You see, I've got this peculiar feeling that everything around me is really unreal.  That nothing is quite what it seems to be.

 

    It isn't something that happened suddenly.  Actually, it's been coming over me for a period of many months now.

 

    I guess the first symptoms were evident shortly after the quiz show scandals when a handful of my idols were shattered right before my eyes.

 

    My reaction wasn't like yours.  You were indignant, abashed, aghast.  Not me.  I just quietly, neurotically refused to believe it.

    

    Then the disc jockeys were subjected to national scrutiny.  And my faith in human nature began to dwindle.

 

     It was then that I began to get this overwhelming sensation of confusion which was intensified some days ago when I happened to read in an obscure magazine  whose name escapes me (could it have been The Nation?) that professional wrestling was fixed!

 

    That's what I said.  Fixed!  And believe me, it shocked me more than it does you.

 

    While still reeling from that body blow, I had the misfortune to pick up a copy of Insider's Newsletter, which is circulated by Cowles, Publishing Co. only to us insiders.  It contained an item that made my confusion complete and irreparable.

 

    Under the heading of "CAN YOU BE TRUTHFUL" it made the claim that the 1960 census will be inaccurate and distorted, despite the best efforts of statisticians and researchers.

 

    Why?  Because people lie to census takers.

 

    According to the article, women from 28 to 55 lop off years, sometime claiming to be only 10 years older than their own daughters.

 

    Elderly members of both sexes tend to add on years so that the 1950 census indicates the U.S. has 4,000 centenarians, while insurance companies insist the true number is about 500.

 

    People, Insider's Newsletter continues, tend to fib to the census taker about their education, their incomes and the jobs they hold.

 

    This total indictment of ours caused me to lapse from mere confusion into a feeling of suspicion that is paranoiac in proportion.  I grope desperately for something to believe in.  Something, or anything I can trust.

 

    But there is nothing.  I swear to you.  I'm even beginning to suspect Criswell and his predictions.

 

    Above all, if we can't believe the census, how can we believe the Kinsey Report?  And if we can't believe Kinsey, I ask you, where are we?