[X]press Magazine

Letter from the Editor
I get asked quite often whether my real name is Walter Crasshole, to which I always respond: “Yes.” It’s real to me and that’s the truth. It’s real as in I answer to it, it’s real as in people know me by it, and it’s real as in that’s where I feel comfortable. If I were asked what my birth name was the answer would be different, were I to give you one.
We create realities every day. We wake up, drink our coffee, pop our pain-killers, put on clothes, and then choose to go out and see the world as something real, something not fake. But even the clothes we choose to put on that day reveal what kind of reality we are buying into. We create the genders available to us, the races available to us, the classes available to us, the definition of knowledge available to us, and not even what may be available, but we CREATE them in the first place. Who’s to say we need any of them?
When our fundamental identities are called into question, how real does that make them? And if what’s real is not, well, real, then what exactly is fake?
Fake only exists in relation to real; it is one end of another set of binaries we’re all programmed to live by.
Concepts of living are constantly shifting, and things seen as authentic 20 years ago are viewed as artificial today. Just look at food. What Mom used to cook for us as we sat on the couch playing Super Mario Bros. is now almost universally seen as poison. Fried, canned, or processed food is exceptionally uncool and yet this is what we were raised on.
Or let’s shift the view to people and ideas: journalists and journalism specifically. Here at [X]press Magazine, we’ve all been funneled through a program that has a definite vision and goal for what journalism should manifest itself as, which can be a good thing. We acquire technique, traditional reporting skills, and a working knowledge of what journalism is about.
But we do have to call it into question when in today’s world “citizen journalism” has taken off like a bullet from of a gun. The Internet and blogs have made it possible for anyone, anywhere with a computer and some good reporting skills to write and comment on the world around them… no education required. Provided that they’re good writers and what they deliver isn’t bullshit, does that make their journalism less valid? Does that make us more “real”? Them fake? Are the facts they collect and the way they present them less important than the way we do it? Does education make the journalist?
On the Internet, anyone can be whatever he or she likes, and there’s not much one can do to give cred, authenticity, or officiality to his or her position. But then again, how real is cyberspace in the first place? It’s the intangible nightclub, office, park, and political arena where we live a good portion of our lives.
I’m far from casting judgment on anyone or anything in writing this letter; these are just questions that people should be asking themselves. We hear the phrase “keepin’ it real” so often, it sounds like the phoniest thing one can say. People always take for granted that there is a definite “real” and a definite “fake.” To me this translates into a definite “lazy” and a definite “threatening.”
In this issue of [X]press we’re trying to explore these concepts. We want to know more about real and fake. We call into question authentic journalism, we call into question correct health practices, we call into question respectable role models, and hopefully we’ll make you call into question respectability. We have pieces exploring performance and authenticity, and where these lines may be drawn. And for your eye we have a story on the great race-that may not be the great race we all think of. And by the end of our fake journey we’ll send you on a trip through the realm of simulation theory.
Fake has always been more fun than real. Reality pours down on our heads all day and all night. Fake is not escapism but actually helps us see the world more clearly. It reveals to us what’s wrong with real and exposes us to other possibilities of perception.
So bite off a nice, greasy mouthful of “fake” fun and try telling us to keep it real.
Walter Crasshole