In the wake of watching Andy Rooney retire, I realized that Carleton needs a cranky older person complaining about little things that bother them. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find one. So I’ll just write about the geezer instead.
I’d always watch that guy at the end of 60 Minutes every week, and I’d always think the same thing — that guy is old. He actually stayed on payroll for his two minutes of airtime where he was known for dropping gems like, “Something has to be done about phone books” and “you know what I don’t like? Chocolate chip cookies.” If you were to tune into any random segment of his, you would see a stereotypical, off-his-rocker, “kids-these-days” old dude.
You want to see how old school this guy is? Look around his office (that is, if you can stop staring at his eyebrows). He looks like he’s sitting in the same office that he used when he wrote for a radio comedy show in the 50s. The typewriter that he still works on is probably borrowed from a museum. In that very room, he sparred with Ali G over the mechanics of the English language, almost spitting in disgust when he heard G’s abomination of “Does you think . . .”
Watching him discuss falling asleep on the bus, his confusion over why email is a big deal, and how he hasn’t heard of Justin Bieber or Lady Gaga, you would be forgiven for mistaking him for a real life Grandpa Simpson. Even in his sign-off Oct. 2, he made sure to complain about why he doesn’t understand why people want him to sign an autograph. Love it or hate it, the point of view of a grouchy nonagenarian who’s purposely ignorant to all things associated with pop culture and the youthful age is something at which we can have a chuckle.
While this has been his job for the past few decades, we can’t forget him as the man who earned this spot at the tail of the once top-viewed TV show in America. A well-spoken old-timer who wears his heart on his sleeve, Rooney gives his listeners a touch of the past.
The 92-year-old covered the Second World War from the frontlines, describing his emotional change from pacifist to a believer in a “just war.” He was a writer for Arthur Godfrey in the 1950s and Harry Reasoner in the 1960s. When he eventually started his role at the end of 60 Minutes, he still never thought of himself as a performer, “just a writer reading what I wrote on TV.”
While we all laugh at his serious demeanor while he complains about the news of the week, the man has a point to his grievances with today’s world. Rooney thinks back on a world where mail was delivered by hand and no one seemed to be in such a hurry.
His books, such as Common Nonsense, acknowledge how silly some of his observations may be, but laments that the’re things that are forgotten. He dedicates his minutes sometimes to common spelling mistakes (it’s febRuary!), but let’s face it — he has read 50 books on the English language.
Some people shut off their TV before Rooney gave his few minutes. They shouldn’t have. Not many people who grew up in the 1920s still had a regular spot on television. He asks very little time of his listeners, and always has an irony or a deeper meaning beneath his wit. And if you didn’t have time for him? Well, maybe you’re the person who needs a few minutes with him the most.
60 Minutes reports on triumphs of civilization, humanizes larger than life figures and exposes the wonders of technology. The insight of Andy Rooney covers everything from Iraq to dogs. Listening to his grumblings can seem trivial after a gripping account of the Osama bin Laden raid or a guy who climbs 2600-foot (792 metres) rock faces without ropes.
But his reminder of a simpler time is a unique perspective that will be missed.
– Andrew Kelly
fifth-year economics