I’m an eloquent and opinionated college prof. And I’ve been a bad influence on thousands of complacent students. I’ve nagged them to notice inequality, demand facts and speak up. They say that my teachings have ruined many a Thanksgiving dinner.
I also write as “Ms. Mentor,” the Miss Manners of academia, whose columns and books tell all – who’s teaching you, how they got there and how you can squiggle.
And now I’m hearing about glitzy people who are “influencers.” They don’t seem to impart knowledge. They persuade or seduce their fans to – I don’t know what.
So I got myself a list of the top 10 influencers. Seven are women pop stars. But the top influencer in the world is Cristiano Ronaldo, a Portuguese soccer player.
I am not totally irrelevant. I’ve been a singer in a rock ’n’ roll band. I’ve been a goalie. But I do not hobnob properly. I wouldn’t know Ronaldo if he bit me on the street.
I’ve had influenza, but not influence. Is my life an expense of spirit in a waste of shame?
