by Frank Diamond

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Around 2007 or thereabouts, I wrote a parody/column for the Evening Bulletin that addresses the “hardships” of being a copy editor. It had been picked up by the testycopyeditors website.

Dear Steven Spielberg:

Well, the summer movie season is upon us, and I am bathing in the glow of your “Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.” Slow down, “Speed Racer.” Zap! “Iron Man!” Make way for Indy, the greatest hero in the history of the cosmos!

I know that you tire of sycophants trying to ingratiate themselves with you. That is why you’ll find this pitch refreshing. I am a newspaperman and, as with many (probably most) ink-stained wretches, I have long harbored the dream of writing for the movies because, truthfully, I’ve had it with this working stuff.

Yep, if only I could sell my script to some lucky producer for a modest $750,000, then you can bet that I would no longer haul my tired carcass into the office to clean up reporters’ lazy prose.

Not that I’m bitter or small-minded. I’m just saying.

I have written a script called “Copy Editor.” I see it as an action, adventure, romance, horror, fantasy, sci-fi, artsy, dramatic, comedic mega-hit. But that’s just me.

Yes, it’s autobiographical. I’ve been working for five years on the copy desk of this mid-sized daily newspaper, where every day I witness the passion and drama of unsung men and women who bravely try to turn back the Niagara of jargon, legalese and fuzzy syntax that so infects our semi-literate age. Steve (and I feel I know you well enough to call you Steve even though, on the physical plane, we’ve never actually met), this is your next big hit. I’d really like to meet you to present the entire treatise in person. Until then, allow me now to just suggest where I’m going with this.

We meet our hero, Palmer Corduroy, working late at the copy desk of the Philadelphia Blankslate, a major metropolitan newspaper. A ringing phone goes unanswered. All the “stars” of the paper — the hard-charging reporters and high-profile administrative editors — have long since deserted the front lines of the First Amendment, scurrying to their nice homes and haughty parties in Center City that Corduroy never gets invited to.

Yet where would they be without him? The only times they notice him are those exceedingly rare instances when a mistake goes through on his watch, and that usually happens only when he’s distracted by trying to organize a food run. Do the complainers ever take that into account? No!

Not that he’s bitter or small-minded.

Anyway, at one point in the beginning, Corduroy asks, “What’s this?” An obituary in which the funeral home is listed as “Melvin and Son.” Isn’t it “Melvin & [ampersand] Son?”

Next scene. There’s Corduroy walking in a downpour on some grubby street. He stops. Looks up. The viewer sees the sign on the business. It says, “Melvin & Son.” This will give the audience a taste of our hero’s dedication.

Here are some other scenes. A new copy editor is hired. Corduroy learns that the “Kid” worked for a time at a local television news station before joining the newspaper. Thinks our hero: “Danger! Danger!”

In the next scene, an angry Corduroy calls the Kid into somebody’s office, because everybody knows that copy editors don’t have their own offices,

Not that he’s bitter or small-minded about this.

Corduroy: You said something yesterday that I never want to hear you say again.

Kid: Umm. … What was that?

Corduroy: You used the word “parenting.” Parent is a noun, not a verb.

Kid: Nouns can sometimes double as verbs.

They fight with knives while action music plays, the sort of theme that rang out when Captain Kirk would circle some mutant android enemy he was dueling in the original “Star Trek.”

However, the Kid is not Corduroy’s only adversary. Challenges come from many quarters concerning the myriad nuances of the language our hero holds so dear. For instance, there’s a discussion about the rule of sequence of tenses.

Corduroy: You write, “He said he believes that he can win.”

Reporter: So?

Corduroy: It should be, “He said he believed that he could win.”

Reporter: Does it matter?

Corduroy: Anyone who would regard “He said he believes that he can win” as proper English should be condemned to eternal fire — or a job with Gannett.

The reporter draws his gun, but Corduroy is faster. A running gun battle ensues through the length of the newsroom.

Probably, Steve, you’re surprised, astonished and amazed to find that the life of a copy editor could be so physical. People are always messing with the language. When they do, Palmer Corduroy will be there to stop them. Do you sense a sequel in the works?

First things first, though. So, what do you say? What’s $750,000 in the scheme of things?

By the way, this is the 23rd note that I’ve dashed off to you about this (but who’s counting?). I really hope that you find it in your heart to answer for once. Is that too much to ask?

Not that I’m bitter or small-minded.