At The Very Least, They Are Good And Bright

One of the tropes of the "Bick Skruth" stuff on Aaron Gold Otto Blopnik's website is when Bick talks about how awesome and attractive and intelligent his readers are. That's what we call a "dog-whistle" because every automotive journalist at every PR event everywhere loves to discuss just how stupid the readers are. It's "us and them", with the "us" being the anointed journos at PR-crumpet events and the industry people. "Them" are, well, you. And, I have to say, me. "Us" are urbane sophisticates who drive all the new cars and go to all the great hotels and take all the first-class flights. "Them" are the Morlocks who actually make payments on cars for years at a time and have never driven on the Cote d'Azur or run up a thousand-dollar tab at a Kimpton.

But how can I even pretend my readers are stupid when they are as well-read as they proved to be this weekend?

In the Saturday night of a very stressful and sleep-free trackday weekend, I wrote Concours d'Angst. In the middle of the story, I note that

Well over ten million women had altered themselves to look like Edith in the past year, making her imperfection yet another sort of mass-manufactured perfection.

This is a direct rip from Robert Silverberg's short story "Caliban", which I read as a teenager. I figured there probably wasn't a more obscure reference I could make than quoting the ending of a science fiction short story that appeared forty-some years ago in a magazine.

The twenty-eighth commenter got it.

There's a moment in "Big Country" by the Flecktones where Victor sneaks Jaco's bassline from "Continuum" in as a fast quote, right in the middle of his solo. When I saw Victor play it live, I yelled and he looked up, surprised and pleased.

Now I know how he felt. Best and Brightest, indeed.