Never the twain

 If you remember the great Albert Brooks movie "Lost in America," you might recall a scene in which Albert is firming up the deal for the new Mercedes-Benz he wants. Brilliant as ever, Albert plays the salesman on the phone (crediting himself as "Hans Wagner") and says there's just one little thing David, the buyer, might want to add...

"Just leather, that's all you'd have to add, nothing else"; David was astounded: "Really?...It doesn't come with leather?" - the dealer specified: "It's what they call Mercedes leather"; David asked about the inferior leather: "What would that be?" - and he was told: "It's a very thick vinyl, a beautiful seat."

That was 40+ years ago, and the lies just keep on coming. "Vegan cheese" is not cheese, "Vegan leather" is vinyl, faux suede isn't suede, and just today, Peggy pointed out to me a book about the life and career of Lee Krasner, the widow of splatter-art king Jackson Pollock. 

It's up to you if you want to call whatever Pollock dripped on canvas "art." He sold this one (painted in his barn) called "Lavender Mist" for $1500 in 1950, and later, someone found $2,000,000 in sofa coins and bought it for their barn.

As I say, art is in the eye of. But words should be precise, which is why I scoffed, guffawed, and winced when Peggy told me the book about Krasner is "historical fiction."

As Sheriff Andy Taylor used to say, "they ain't no such a thing" as fiction, where history is concerned. Fiction is not fact, and the fact is, I'm not reading a book that doesn't know the difference.