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There Will Never Be Another Norm Peterson, Because There Are Few Norms

There Will Never Be Another Norm Peterson, Because There Are Few Norms

Forbes24-05-2025

CHEERS — "Cliff's Rocky Moment" Episode 16 — Air Date 01/26/1984 — Pictured: (l-r) John Ratzenberger ... More as Cliff Clavin, George Wendt as Norm Peterson (Photo by NBCU Photo Bank/NBCUniversal via Getty Images via Getty Images)
Who was Norm Peterson? You're aging yourself if you know the answer to the question. More realistically, you aged yourself by clicking on an opinion piece with 'Norm Peterson' in the title.
About what's been written so far, rest assured that none of it is meant to tell readers about a show that they already knew and loved (again, you clicked on a piece about a fictional individual), and none of it is meant to rehash Norm's many great lines. Others have and will do all this much better.
Instead, the purpose of this opinion piece is to make a case that Norm doesn't solely resonate with older readers because of the years when Cheers aired. The speculation is that only older people could and did get Norm in the way that young people simply could not.
To see why, think again about Norm's character. The bar where everyone knows his name is his refuge from the day-to-day drudgery of his job as an accountant. Some will say Cheers was a refuge from Vera (the wife we never saw) too, but for 'The Peterson Principle,' the episode in which Norm defended Vera's honor.
Norm loved Vera, but not his job. He wasn't a Formula 1 driver, an executive for the Red Sox, or a professor in a city filled with them, Norm was an accountant. He was in a job about which he wasn't passionate. Which is no insight.
At the same time, it's not unreasonable to point out that a younger watcher of Cheers wouldn't get Norm in the way that people got him from 1982-93. That's because Hollywood, however imperfect, is a mirror. Which requires a brief digression.
Likely more than a few who knew and loved Cheers either read The Great Santini, or saw the film. One reason it resonated is that readers and moviegoers understood Robert Duvall's character. Either they had fathers like him, their fathers had fathers like him, or perhaps both. Fast forward to the present, and while it's no reach to say that young people would really enjoy the novel or film, they wouldn't know Bull Meacham. There's no context. Fathers are nice, and getting nicer by the day. The view here is that the kindness of fathers today is not unrelated to the likelihood that young people today wouldn't get Norm.
What they wouldn't get about Norm is his lack of passion for his job. Again, Norm came to Cheers to get away from a job that was work. The view here is that Norm made sense as a character in the '90s, and by extension made sense to viewers, exactly because he didn't like his work.
Norm wouldn't make sense today because as I wrote in my 2018 book The End of Work, the nature of work has changed so much, and is set to rapidly change even more. See AI. Precisely because it will render so much of today's work redundant, AI will free exponentially more from work that has to be done in favor of work that people can't not do. There's a huge difference, and the view here is that the misery of past work explains difficult fathers of the past in much the same way that rapidly improving work explains the much easier fathers of today.
Which is a comment that there will never be another Norm Peterson not just because George Wendt played him so perfectly. More optimistically, there will never be another Norm because the Norms of the past are more likely to be found happily working than escaping it at the bar.

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How fanzine culture gave a voice to supporters and changed English football
How fanzine culture gave a voice to supporters and changed English football

New York Times

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  • New York Times

How fanzine culture gave a voice to supporters and changed English football

The titles were often gloriously creative and diverse, some paying homage to terrace anthems, others making a clever play on words. Sales were decent, too, with more than one million copies shifted per year at the height of what quickly became a phenomenon. We're talking about the rise of football fanzines in the 1980s. Those purveyors of insight and irreverence who arrived on the scene when the game was on its knees in a troubled decade and helped spark a revival. Advertisement Not just through fan activism, though there was plenty of that as fanzines joined the fight against compulsory ID cards, club mergers, and even proposals for a new European Super League featuring England's biggest names more than three decades before the more recent incarnation reared its ugly head in 2021. 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  • Associated Press

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Why a Minneapolis neighborhood sharpens a giant pencil every year

Associated Press

timean hour ago

  • Associated Press

Why a Minneapolis neighborhood sharpens a giant pencil every year

MINNEAPOLIS (AP) — Residents will gather Saturday in a scenic Minneapolis neighborhood for an annual ritual — the sharpening of a gigantic No. 2 pencil. The 20-foot-tall (6-meter-tall) pencil was sculpted out of a mammoth oak tree at the home of John and Amy Higgins. The beloved tree was damaged in a storm a few years ago when fierce winds twisted the crown off. Neighbors mourned. A couple even wept. But the Higginses saw it not so much as a loss, but as a chance to give the tree new life. The sharpening ceremony on their front lawn has evolved into a community spectacle that draws hundreds of people to the leafy neighborhood on Lake of the Isles, complete with music and pageantry. Some people dress as pencils or erasers. Two Swiss alphorn players will provide part of this year's entertainment. The hosts will commemorate a Minneapolis icon, the late music superstar Prince, by handing out purple pencils on what would have been his 67th birthday. In the wake of the storm, the Higginses knew they wanted to create a sculpture out of their tree. They envisioned a whimsical piece of pop art that people could recognize, but not a stereotypical chainsaw-carved, north-woods bear. Given the shape and circumference of the log, they came up with the idea of an oversized pencil standing tall in their yard. 'Why a pencil? Everybody uses a pencil,' Amy Higgins said. 'Everybody knows a pencil. You see it in school, you see it in people's work, or drawings, everything. So, it's just so accessible to everybody, I think, and can easily mean something, and everyone can make what they want of it.' So they enlisted wood sculptor Curtis Ingvoldstad to transform it into a replica of a classic Trusty brand No. 2 pencil. 'People interpret this however they want to. They should. They should come to this and find whatever they want out of it,' Ingvoldstad said. That's true even if their reaction is negative, he added. 'Whatever you want to bring, you know, it's you at the end of the day. And it's a good place. It's good to have pieces that do that for people.' John Higgins said they wanted the celebration to pull the community together. 'We tell a story about the dull tip, and we're gonna get sharp,' he said. 'There's a renewal. We can write a new love letter, a thank you note. We can write a math problem, a to-do list. And that chance for renewal, that promise, people really seem to buy into and understand.' To keep the point pointy, they haul a giant, custom-made pencil sharpener up the scaffolding that's erected for the event. Like a real pencil, this one is ephemeral. Every year they sharpen it, it gets a bit shorter. They've taken anywhere from 3 to 10 inches (8 to 25 centimeters) off a year. They haven't decided how much to shave off this year. They're OK knowing that they could reduce it to a stub one day. The artist said they'll let time and life dictate its form — that's part of the magic. 'Like any ritual, you've got to sacrifice something,' Ingvoldstad said. 'So we're sacrificing part of the monumentality of the pencil, so that we can give that to the audience that comes, and say, 'This is our offering to you, and in goodwill to all the things that you've done this year.''

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