Suppose I wrote horribly misspelled stories that messed up basic facts, like claiming that the Capitol is in Escanaba and the state constitution was crafted by elves.
And suppose I managed to get a gig as a pundit on TV and radio, where I would play the part of the resident airhead. I couldn’t tell you how much the state budget was worth or who the lieutenant governor was.
But I was young, blonde and had a decent pair of sweater puppies.
Naturally, people would question my qualifications — and not just the barely literate folks who spend their days leaving comments online in all caps.