Don't journalists write in declarative statements anymore?

Am I the only one who has noticed? Once upon a time, we went to newspapers, TV, magazines and other news outlets because we desired an informed collections of facts, analysis and projections. Lo' those many years ago when I joined the ranks of the media, that was a big part of the appeal. It was a natural vocational choice for a habitual know-it-all. Today, the media seem to know nothing. Instead, they all just keep chattering away with one question after another.

We used to go to the media because we had questions.

Now the media are the ones with all the questions.

Lazy.

And we have to do all the work to supply the answers. Over the past week, the media have asked me all of these actual questions. And because I am old-school, I'll even give you the answers.

"When is the right time to retire?"

This question came in conjunction with a story about a 100-year-old mechanic in Britain who says he keeps working to avoid boredom. Instead of being able to enjoy a well-crafted profile of a man who grew up in an orphanage, got married at age 14, and joined the Grenadier Guards and served in World War II, I had to start thinking about my own retirement. What a lousy trick.

I could have had a glimpse into the mind of a man almost three times my age who says he wakes up every morning happy in what he does. But no. I'm suddenly in a panic over my 401K and wondering which of my children will take care of me.

"Is 60 the new 45?"

Why, now that I think about how many more years I will need to bring in a decent income, yes, 60 is the new 45. Only with more doctor's appointments and grandchildren.

"Killed by a stingray - could it happen to you?"

The news of Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin's untimely death was shocking. Even more shocking was the way the media tried to "bring the news home" to their readers and/or viewers by scaring the jeebies out of us. So, could it happen to me?

Um. No.

It couldn't possibly happen to me unless the stingray in question flopped out of the water, caught a cab to the airport, transferred flights in Atlanta or Cincinnati, landed in Albany, rented a Dodge Stratus, drove to Cooperstown and did me in while I slumbered. Other than that, the chances are pretty slim.

"Who is Edvard Munch?" "Where is Baby Suri?" "Cindy Crawford asks, 'How can we end cancer?'"

A Norwegian expressionist, a Lisa-Marie-Presley-in-waiting and, what? Cindy who wants to know what? Sorry, I think my brain just melted like a Cadbury egg on a Texas sidewalk.

"Are this season's plaid fashions the 'New Grunge'?"

No - wait, my brain must not have melted completely, because I definitely sensed more softening with that question.

"Maria Sharapova looks good on and off the court, but is glam good for women's tennis?"

How could I have been so silly? Isn't it clear? Do you really think it's MY brain that has melted? Or could it be that brain melting is epidemic among the people who are responsible for the question-mark headline? Anyone?

Elizabeth Trever Buchinger is a freelance writer who wants to know who wants to know. She can be reached at VillageWordsmith@hughes.net