With this column we inaugurate the role of Ombudsman, who we hope will act as a liaison between The Sherman Oaks Review and the public. It will be his or her job to field readers’ concerns regarding their treatment by the Review. Are we being fair? Are we being lucid? Are we being transparent? Are we being shimmery and translucent and emitting an odd scent, as of burnt almonds? The Ombudsman (Lat., “the man in charge of the ombuds”) will address these and similar issues. How, you may ask, does the role of the Ombudsman differ from that of the Editor in charge of corrections. The difference is that he or she will apologize.
We — or I guess I — apologize to everyone who was offended by our March 12 article, “Cookie Dough Ice Cream is Horrible and Only Idiots Like It.” The opinions expressed in it were those of the author. They are also the opinions of a few of the editorial staff of the Sherman Oaks Review, but you don’t know that. In any case, we, the editors, didn’t write the article. The author did. So blame her. Although seriously — how can you eat that? Anyway, we’re very, very sorry.
Similarly, we deeply regret the fact that some people found confusing our April 3 article, “How Can the National Deficit and the Debt Be So Different When They Both Start With D-E?” We thought we were publishing an important analysis of a national issue, of interest to thinking grownups everywhere. Apparently we were wrong. Apparently our readership consists of a bunch of big crybabies who eat cookie dough ice cream and don’t like the word “fungible.” So, we guess we’re sorry, and we certainly won’t publish that bad, bad article ever again, okay?
Readers who took issue with specific assertions in our May 14 article, “Kierkegaard/Derrida/Lacan: An Eternal Golden Dread” don’t know what they’re talking about. How can I say that? Because no one understands that article. It’s incomprehensible. When I called up the author and asked him what the whole thing meant, he laughed bitterly and then starting weeping and then hung up on me. I actually thought we published it as a joke. Then somebody told me that in fact we ran it as a favor to somebody else (I don’t know who and I don’t want to know, really). But fine, let’s say we’re sorry to those readers, too. Because…fuck, because I’m supposed to. I’m the Ombudsman. It sounds impressive, doesn’t it? It did to me when they offered me the job. But guess what, it just means I’m the Complaint Department, like in some old New Yorker cartoon where a woman stands before a little window, holding a toaster, and the guy on the other side glares at her and isn’t sympathetic.
Several readers wrote to correct (they thought) a misstatement in our May 20 article, “On Consciousness.” The original text, as published, read, “I know when I am conscious, because I just know. Or I ask someone — a trusted friend or colleague — and often they tell me, ‘Yes, you are conscious.’ I know when I am unconscious, because I know that I don’t know anything, although I don’t know that I know that, although I have a pretty good idea, sometimes.” Our correspondents all noted that there should be one or two more “don’t”’s in the sentence, e.g, “I don’t know when I am unconscious, because I don’t know that I don’t know any don’t thing.” As if that makes sense. But sure, we’re sorry about whatever you want us to be sorry about.
