Wikipedia somehow puttered along without an article on me for quite some time, and it's extraordinarily unlikely that a schoolchild hoping to do research on me was disappointed.
Today?
Me: Take a look at this. It's hilarious, akin to watching the angels judge you at the Pearly Gates.
Slim: "Early life and career"?! Did you write this?
Me: Heck, no. Would I get the name of my own blog wrong? Look at the article history. Ten editors suddenly thought it exceedingly important that this gap in the Wikipedia archives be filled, and be filled immediately:
sixty edits to the article in four hours.
[Slim reads through the talk page debate over photo copyrights.]
Me: Don't you want to read about my "Early life and career"?
Slim: It's kind of creepy, actually.
Me: I'm really enjoying watching the
debate over whether I'm "notable" enough for Wikipedia. I don't know which verdict is worse. I think Oscar Wilde said the only thing worse than not having a Wikipedia article written about you was having a Wikipedia article written about you.
Slim: Who's "Wikidemo"?
Me: Heck if I know. He or she's convinced I'm important, though.
Slim: You should make "Like it or not, a political activist can boost himself to prominence and notability by writing a lot, taking part extensively in the public debate in America, and catching people's attention. He seems to have done so." the slogan for the blog.
Me: I'm partial to "He is a lawyer. One of millions it seems." But poor Sara. She works so hard finding court files for me and one guy thinks she doesn't even exist. Little did she know that she was critical to the research-assistant-criterion of the Wikipedia notability test. The good news is that I don't have to worry about the construction noise next door because I don't even have an office.
Slim (moving on to a different web page): I thought you were going to blog about bacon.
Me: The really fun part is going to come after they delete the article, and then the press coverage comes out with the announcement of the new job September 5 and then someone will create the article again and then someone will nominate the article for deletion again and complain about the bad faith of the first person and the first person will complain that the situation has changed and how dare his good faith be challenged.
Slim reads Pandagon to get annoyed, I correct typos at Wikipedia.
But Lord knows I'm not going to touch that article (or deletion debate) myself, as much as I'm tempted to correct the guy who
read this and comes away thinking I was responding to John Fabian Witt when I was talking about a completely different subject. It's actually much more interesting to see it get put together by others on the fly, and if I were to copyedit it, not only would a bunch of people scream bloody murder that I was editing the article, but I'd miss out on the social experiment of seeing how accurate Wikipedia is on the one subject where there is no question I am the world's leading expert. And it has sort of the weird sensation that must be similar to reading one's own misprinted obituary.
I almost hesitate to comment on
the errors in the current version: for whatever reason, the blog they link to is this one, with less than 1% of the readership of the other two blogs I wrote for in the last three years, and also the one I write for the least often, albeit the only one where I'm going to talk about my Wikipedia entry. (Speaking of which, you, gentle readers, all twenty of you, shouldn't touch that deletion debate. Unless you have something really clever to say for or against my notability. But even then, Wikipedia disregards the opinions of editors with no history of editing Wikipedia.)
But if I did mention mistakes, some Wikipedia editor will correct the mistakes, and I'll lose the social-experiment value. And the article is perversely more entertaining when it includes the minor factual errors and awkward phrasing (such as the
decision in the first sentence to use ellipses and a prepositional phrase instead of simply repeating the original quote's sparer adjectival noun). I especially like seeing the Wikipedia tactic of anticipating accusations of failing to meet the notability standard by adding the adverb "notably" to the article. Hey, only notable people get that adverb.
There are certainly interesting examples of systemic bias: the most widely-read and influential stuff of mine is behind the Wall Street Journal subscription wall, so none of it ends up in the article, which heavily leans to the easily Googlable. And since Google searches for "Ted Frank" don't know to look for the pages with my full name...
And, of course, the interests of the editors creates its own slant. Class actions and the theory of scheme liability are so
boring, so instead
I'm quoted on poppier matters like Michael Moore, the Virginia Tech murders, and, of course, Wikipedia itself (the last from a
CBS story I'd completely forgotten about). (The quote section has since been completely edited out of the article.) Reflecting perhaps the ages of the editors, my college life gets a full paragraph, albeit luckily without the now-ironic interview the Boston Globe did of me my sophomore year. Bruce Borowsky would be proud that The Watch (which apparently limped on
through 2004 and still has a live web-page in a school where not a single one of its four-year students has seen an issue) makes the cut for my notable achievements over multi-million dollar litigations won or controversial Supreme Court briefing disputes.