"a fish, a barrel, and a smoking gun" |
cApital Offense Writing for the illiterate has never been an easy task, but there's reason to believe that a significant measure of the burden has been lifted. We speak, of course, to the death of capital-ism. From Adi Da to Zima, no one seems to care about the "correct" use of capital letters anymore. Typography - and typing, for that matter - has become a tool for design, not literature, and nowhere is this more appreciated than on the Web, where reading has been replaced by scanning, skimming replaced by surfing. The death of capitals is just another sign that we don't have to actually read the text in order to understand what's being communicated. If both the beginning of ideas and Important Concepts are delineated by capital letters, their conspicuous absence becomes a comforting indicator that we're not missing anything.
In the land of logos, it makes sense to deploy case in the service of style instead of sense. Fashioning a corporate identity out of nothing but type is a triumph of economy and ensures a certain amount of incorruptibility and longevity. However, the imposition of lowercase on content that once existed happily in a less ambiguous and more binary time seems puzzling. The literary lineage of little-used caps makes their use often seem like nothing more than a pretentious affectation, but in real life, for real people, the motivation is usually quite direct. Writes one correspondent, queried on her less-than-standard style: "fuck ee cummings, i just can't type very well." And skipping a whole case certainly eliminates an entire class of potential error by simply conceding to it - much like the urge to confess that you suck. In the context of newbie email FAQs, with their constant warnings NOT TO SHOUT, one wonders if noncapital writing is perhaps the digital version of upspeak? The net manifestation of making every sentence sound like a question? One asked by a pre-pubescent girl?
To be sure, there seems to be some connection between the screwing with text and skewing young - Fox transmogrifies their logo thusly, and spiv's son-of-Dynamite graphics are obviously tailor-made for the training-bra set. But upspeak - aural or otherwise - is about more than age. As gender-theorist-turned- management-consultant Deborah
Tannen like upspeak usually betray a fundamental insecurity about one's ability to communicate effectively. Maybe all-lowercase, all-the-time implies a profound sense of unease about text in the age of images. The casualness with which we've tossed aside a basic rule of writing has to mean something, right? It used to. Both e.e. cummings and bell hooks gave up capitals to make certain statements (granted, we're not sure what they were), but now that we have netgirl and c|net, well...lowercase just seems lower class. For those in the business of digital communication, lowercase means casual. A a hipster digizine becomes a chummy chat when delivered in the cozy case. Some might trace the disappearance of capitals to the increased randomness of their deploy. A few years ago begat the age of InterCaps. Companies like Apple, with the release of MacPaint, and NeXT, with NeXTStep, NeXTSTEP, and every other InterCap variation, forced the shift key, perhaps hoping that the extra strokes would provide what marketing and engineering ingenuity (or Steve Jobs) couldn't - success. Of course, now that the death of capitalism has whittled its way down to children's books, showing it to be hopelessly second wave (and making it even more doubtful that the educators of today's youth will be able to have them mind their [capital] P's and Q's), we need to select a new phenomenon to tide us over until the end of the millennium. We like to think that the people's choice will be the Rise of Marksism - after all, once we've broken free of the oppressive yoke of capital letters and their phallogocentric underpinnings, what's left but to puncture the punctilious with punctuation? courtesy of Ann O'Tate
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