I Hereby Resign From Dixie Sun News (But Not Really) - By Matty Jacobson

Matty Jacobson edits and contributes to The Skewed Review

THE SKEWED REVIEW | NEWS & POLITICS | ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT |  HEALTH & WELLNESS | COLLEGE LIFE | ACTIVISM


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I've heard it can take a lifetime to figure out what occupation would perfectly suit you. Well, it's taken me less than three years to find out exactly what I don't want to do.

When I signed on to be a writer for our college newspaper in 2008, I was a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed non-traditional student with a backpack stuffed with fresh life views and glitter, and pockets filled with hope, wonder and stardust.

So basically I was a 27-year-old My Little Pony.

Journalism, as I knew it then, was an outlet for creative storytellers like myself to relay the tales of astonishing events and perplexing people. I was so familiar with Vogue and Rolling Stone. I knew the authors of these captivating articles must love their jobs; they get to travel, they get to meet interesting people, and they get paid to write it all down for others to enjoy.

But little did I know that journalism is entirely founded upon a "break, then remake" principle. The first article I wrote for Dixie State College's Dixie Sun was hacked to pieces by the editors with little more than a huff and a demand for a revised version of my once beautiful piece of art. I distinctly remember writing the article and thinking to myself that the imagery I'd painted with my words, the way in which I phrased my questions, and the presentation of the entire package made what would have otherwise been an utterly bland bowl of cold porridge a 17-course gourmet tasting dinner.

But embellishments, especially any meant to make reading a news article even remotely pleasant, are highly frowned upon, apparently. I was told to trash the gourmet meal and scrounge up my most mediocre version of gruel.

And since then? Well, I've become so ingrained with the formulaic, expressionless form of so-called news writing that I sometimes fear my creative tank is just a tick or two above E. But that's how they want it.

After my first article was butchered, I remember thinking (and even exclaiming aloud in a fit of passion), "No wonder the newspaper industry is dying!"

Almost all creativity housed within me has since been extracted and discarded, and the empty shell that was once full of music, art, poetry, fashion and culture was then refilled with word counts, deadlines, grammatical purism, and Associated Press rules.

There are myriad things I'd rather be doing. I want to sketch, draw, color and paint. I want to play music, sing, act and dance. I want to write poetry and stories and read them aloud. I want to leave this life of drudgery behind.

So the question still remains: Why would I continue doing something I've come to loathe so much?

It's such a conundrum, and also a tragedy, because I've essentially sacrificed my creativity for a chance to climb the editorial ladder. After just one semester on staff, I was offered the position of arts & entertainment editor. It was the proverbial carrot dangling in front of me, and wouldn't you know it? I was the perfect horse's ass. I mean, how awesome would it be to be the editor of arts & entertainment? What a title!

Yes, I was drawn by the small amount of authority it would give me. I won't lie. That editor title was like the power of Greyskull. It turned my meager prince Adam into the mighty He-Man and stuck a giant tiger named Battlecat between my legs.

Well, I already had that second part taken care of. But I digress.

The glory of my editorship was short-lived. It turned out to be little more than an arranger of articles whose job it was to keep track of ten other people and do just as much additional research each week.

Was I tricked into taking a position that I now know was only vacant because the amount of time needed to fulfill the duties takes up double the amount of time regular schoolwork does? Maybe last year I would have called it a conspiracy theory, but now I think it was a bit premeditated--especially considering the offer came along with a note of encouragement that I'm perfect Editor-in-Chief material.

So, like the good little pet I apparently am, I stayed on, climbing the ranks. And here I am today: the Editor-in-Chief. And what do I have to show for it? Well, a load of student debt that'll take me triple the amount of years to pay off as it did to incur, for one thing. I also get my very own jail cell, which happens to have a computer in it. And every day I get to edit other people's work and do to them what was done to me. I don't even get a day off of cutting down the staffers' work and spirit. I pare away the creativity of others and assure that our readers get nothing less than the equivalent of something even David Copperfield wouldn't want if offered seconds.

And no, I'm not talking about the magician. Unfortunately, I've put myself in a position where I need to explain those sorts of things. After all, I'm only allowed to write for the lowest reading level one can get away with while attending college. And from what I've seen, I'd say that's around fourth or fifth grade.

So why stay? Well, I have committed myself. One thing I've come to loathe during my time as an ignored journalist is a quitter. I despise writers who quit. I despise sources who cancel. I despise readers  whose attention span doesn't extend beyond a paragraph or two if I'm writing about anything other than Britney Spears' vagina.

At this point in this article, I can only assume I've managed to shake off those readers with more important things to do, like watch "Keeping Up With the Kardashians," I guess. Hopefully I'm with like-minded company by now.

I've realized my passion isn't embedded somewhere in the dark recesses of this dying medium. I'm not the get-the-answers-at-any-cost kind of guy. I'm a reflective sort. Yes, I seek the truth. But I also analyze it. And unless I'm employed at a 24-hour cable news network, then there's little room for analysis when I'm reporting on the latest beauty pageant. At this point, I'm only here because I'm a man of my word, or at least I'm striving to be.

Perhaps I have much to atone for. I've not been known to be a man of solid promises in the past. I was never really one who could be counted upon to do anything other than drugs. But I am determined to prove to myself I can see through any task, even one as daunting and life-extinguishing as this.

I'll end on a positive note, though. I'm flexing my creative muscles in an attempt to regain what I feel was lost over the past three and half years. I'm putting the finishing touches on, as cliche as it is, a novel. Please, hold your laughter for when you see me in person. Even if it's at my expense, the sound of merriment still manages to alleviate my torture--even if just by a fraction.

My book is essentially my story, but super fictionalized. All the elements of my life are there--plus time travel. And no, it's not some brooding love story about a teenage boy who falls in love with a sparkly time traveller. However, I don't make any promises that references to such stories aren't mentioned and subsequently bashed in my novel.

It's as serious as a story about time travelling can be, which, when you think about it, is pretty serious. I mean, Michael J. Fox nearly lost his hand while playing "Johnny B. Goode" for the class of '55 because of it.

But in all actuality, I had to take my pent up sarcasm that's lost on a collegiate audience and put it somewhere. So while my tale is a serious one, it's a serious one from the point of view of a very sardonic and facetious person.

Think "Girl With the Dragon Tattoo" if it were full of "That's what she said jokes" and time-travelling drag queens.

So for those of you who managed to get this far in an article that in itself could be a novel, I hope it pays off. I'm going to publish the prologue of my book on this website next month. I'm sure there'll be an inclination to give me feedback, and if you think you must then I'm not going to stop you. But I am hoping the story will intrigue you enough that you'll want to purchase the rest of the book. I'm going to be listing it for 99 cents.

Will it be the next "Tale of Two Cities?" Probably not. Hell, I don't even expect it to get to "Disco Bloodbath" fame, which really only found its cult following after Macualay Culkin, Seth Green,  and Marilyn Manson did a film version of it. But that's neither here nor there. I'm just hoping you'll enjoy the prologue enough to seek the rest of the book.

Thanks for staying with me, and thanks for giving me the drive to regain my creativity.

Peace out, bitches.

City Council Murders Local Business - by Matty Jacobson

The Skewed Review Editor's Reminder: The views expressed

here are those of Matthew James Jacobson, and not of any

other person, place or thing. This is commentary on local

news and was not influenced by any person from the St.

George City Council, GoGo 37, KTIM, Dixie Sun, or any

other party that suspicious people may think are involved.

Matty's views are his own and is not monetarily or

otherwise compensated in any way, shape or form for

articles that may favor certain local businesses. Matty

can be reached via email here. Please include "The Skewed

Review" in the subject line to avoid having messages

automatically deleted. Amen.

THE SKEWED REVIEW | NEWS & POLITICS | ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT | COLLEGE LIFE & TIMES

It's never fun to attend a funeral, but at least one southern Utah business is trying to make it worth your while.

GoGo 37 is (or rather, was) a St. George art gallery and concert venue. They were known for three things: Bringing awesome bands to St. George's downtown area, feature work from local artists, and running the risk of being shut down at any event because of an antiquated (and frankly, baseless) ordinance that prohibits people from dancing.

If you happen to be from anywhere other than Utah, this might sound like some ridiculous movie plot. Wait a minute, there was that one flick--actually filmed in Utah--that dealt with that exact same topic.

One can't help but wonder if St. George, Utah, was the inspiration.

It was just about two years ago when two local entrepreneurs opened GoGo 37 to the chagrin of the St. George City Council. Our City Council, which is a team of Good Ol' Boys if ever I've seen one, is elected by our senior citizens. That's really no different from any other part of the country, actually. Senior citizens are the demographic that vote the most, so it pretty much goes without saying that all the old folks get whatever the hell they want in this town.

And something they don't want is fun. Well, at least nothing fun for a college-aged student to do.

The City Council awards less than 10 dance permits per year (yes, you have to have a permit to dance in St. George). And, believe it or not, the majority of those dance permits go to golf courses.

Wikimedia Commons

Because nothing makes you want to dance more than a good round of golf.
By the way, there's no permit needed for those pants (although there should be). 

If this confuses you, then you're not alone. Why on earth would a city council want there to be dancing exclusively at golf courses? Here's the sad thing, though. College-aged students make up a very large portion of the St. George population. They just don't really vote.

And now, because of that, GoGo 37 is closing its doors.

You may ask: Why? Well, here's my personal observation. Whether or not it was intentional, the City Council awarded GoGo 37 with a business license for live music, but denied them a permit to dance. So that meant that anyone who came to groove was endangering the venue.

GoGo 37 Facebook Page

Yup. They pretty much had to tattoo the wall to prevent getting shut down,

which is something that happened on several occasions actually. Just because

patrons danced. Eat your heart out, Kevin Bacon.

 

At a venue where dancing is not permitted, it can be very grueling getting people inside the doors. When you go to listen to live music, you want to dance! But thanks to these folks, GoGo 37 was never given the opportunity to allow their patrons to do what music makes people want to do.

 Pictured above: Eight murderers?

GoGo 37 will host its final bash, which is eloquently titled "The Death of GoGo 37."

So, congratulations, St. George City Council, mayor, city manager, and all other Good Ol' Boys! You've successfully driven out a local business. In the meantime, why don't we all go amuse ourselves on the quarter-of-a-million-dollar carousel that was approved for downtown St. George by none other than the City Council?

Good call. Hopefully this will be a wake up call to my fellow young citizens. We need to stop letting the retired crowd dictate what our options are when it comes to recreation.

How To Cartoon Politically - By Matty Jacobson

THE SKEWED REVIEW -- The overall look of an editorial cartoon can sometimes seem silly and juvenile—whether it be because of the obvious biases, the sometimes scratchy handwriting, or the caricatured representations of public figures.

But the actual work that goes into creating that single story-telling panel can actually be daunting. There are so many factors that come into play when creating a cartoon that not only has to have a political message, but also be somewhat entertaining. I’d like to guide you through a step-by-step process, and perhaps you can come up with something to share with the readers of Dixie Sun.

1. Know your point of view

There are people who definitely prefer to be the peacekeepers, and there are those who tend to steer completely clear of conflict altogether. If you fall into this category, then perhaps creating an editorial cartoon isn’t for you.

The best politically focused cartoons come from artists and writers who have a definable position on a topic. Pretending to have an opinion can only get a person so far. It won’t take long before you’re out of ideas if you’re a fence-sitter. You need to be the kind of person who can get extremely excited about some things and terribly disappointed in others.

If you approach creating a cartoon with this mentality, then your readers should know where you stand on an issue based on the product you show them.

2. Keep up with the Kardashians

And the Clintons, and the Baldwins, and the Ahmadinejads. If you’re not focusing your cartoon on something current, then you’re most likely going to end up with a “Family Circus” knock-off.

Watch the news, read the papers, peruse the blogs—do whatever it takes to keep yourself current. By keeping current with the news, you’re actually setting yourself up to succeed at step No. 3.

3. Focus on everything ridiculous

Paying attention to the news is all fine and dandy, but you need to keep a special eagle eye out for moments you can make fun of. Why on earth do you think President George W. Bush was re-elected? It was because all the political cartoonists out there were striking gold on a daily basis.

President Obama has had a few gaffs as well. It wasn’t too long ago he made a toast to the Queen of England—in the middle of the British national anthem. To a political cartoonist, that’s the equivalent of handing a book of matches to a pyromaniac and then daring him to burn the city down.

4. Know how to make fun

It simply won’t do to re-tell the exact same story everyone else has been seeing on the news. As an editorial cartoonist, you need to take the common news and put your own spunky spin on it.

Let's use Obama as an example again. It was obviously just a simple mistake when he interrupted the British national anthem; he certainly didn’t do it on purpose. So you can run with that. Perhaps you can have a cartoon titled, “The rest of Obama’s British visit,” and then draw him making social faux pas in ridiculous situations.

You could draw him sneezing into the Queen’s tea, then draw him comparing Prime Minister David Cameron to Austin Powers, and finally show him meeting the Duchess of Cambridge (a.k.a. Kate Middleton) while asking, “And who are you?”

5. You’ve got to doodle-doo

Now I’ve seen my fair share of political cartoons, so I can tell you right now that you don’t have to be a talented artist to pull one of these off. However, you do have to have some sort of flair for drawing imitations of public figures. And if you find your rendition of a certain political person isn’t quite recognizable, you can easily throw a name badge onto your drawing.

You’ll want to sketch it out in pencil first, just in case you make an error. Then you can decide to make your cartoon color or black and white. I started out with the simple black and white format, then I started coloring in my characters with sharpies. Now I use watercolor. The medium is completely up to you. I bet a political cartoon colored with crayons would be a hit.

6. Once is not enough

The very first political cartoon I ever drew was in junior high. Trust me when I tell you it was the equivalent of manure in its first stage. Because I was so unsuccessful at that first cartoon, I was hesitant to do it again. It wasn’t until college that I decided to take another shot at it.

My first cartoon of the year was OK, but it certainly was lacking. However, as the weeks have gone by, I’ve found the concepts come to me much easier, and my art is improving. Just be prepared to make a few mistakes.

So do you think you’ve got it in you to at least come up with one editorial cartoon? We’d love to see it! Share it on our Facebook page at Facebook.com/Dixie.sun.