Monday, April 26, 2010

Beer Eases Mob's Ire

Beer Eases Mob’s Ire
The Covington News

I’ve been writing this column for about three months. One is supposed to appear each Sunday in this space. Twice now that has not occurred. The first time it happened was early on in the series and was my fault. I had a good excuse. I forgot.
Last week I submitted an essay that The News, after some discussion, declined to print.
As a result a small but, well, small clique of rabid followers turned to this space on Sunday and found, instead of my column, a propaganda piece from our State Senator, which must have been something like expecting Santa and getting The Grinch.
We’re just having fun with you, Mr. Senator.
Meanwhile, all across the county, from Gum Creek to Stewart, The Covington News dispenser boxes were solidly kicked, and one was almost overturned.
Outside The News offices, a tense standoff developed between the local S.W.A.T. team and an angry, but small, clique of protesters. The News’ editor-in-chief, Mr. Robert Horne, and I took turns with the bullhorn, trying to talk them down.
Delicate negotiations ensued. Mr. Horne promised to set up a victim compensation fund for those who’d wasted their 50 cents, and I agreed to address the matter in this week’s column, but order was restored only after I threw in free beer at my house.
The crowd, though small, required much beer, and I’m told the class-action settlement is now solidly in the two-figure range, which, when I throw in retribution for the beer tab, will deal a substantial financial blow to this operation.
The lesson we take from this, or course, is that when the First Amendment suffers, we all suffer.
We’re just having fun with you, Mr. Editor.
The column that was not printed was one of those instances which my wife hates where I just up and offer a theory to explain things for you.
Anything. In this case it was an academic offering about why funny is funny, which I proceeded to illustrate by taking a closer look at the line from the drug commercial on television that warns a certain condition, which we apparently can’t mention here, though rare, could last more than four hours and require immediate medial attention.
I then offered a skit in which the Not Ready for Covington News Players took that scene in the doctor’s office and ran with it.
But you won’t get to read that column. Rumor has it The News has a number you can call to record your vote for printing the column and another you call if you prefer boiling Larry the Lobster, but the wacko pranksters don’t trust me with that information.
For some reason, I don’t move in the inner circles here.
I’d planned at this point to go into another theory of mine about how most people over 25 lose their ability to hear music they haven’t heard before, but I got a lot of ink out of me and Bobby, and there’s no sense spoiling you.

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