Sometimes stuff just SCREAMS, "Write about this!"

By Joseph Walther

 

People who write this type of weekly column typically spend three to five days in research, plus another day and a half writing and rewriting to reach the final cut. I don’t do this. The best material comes from life, itself. I carry a small digital recorder and camera at all times. There’s never a shortage of material because there’s never a shortage of people, especially those who have a propensity to do, and say, silly things.

 

            Don’t misunderstand me; good topical research is important. The News Journal item below is the result of some ongoing research. Most of the time, however, I base my column on things that I’ve witnessed over the FIVE days prior to publication. There is something invigorating about not knowing what I’m going to write about until I sit down on publication day to write it.

 

            I began this column as a fun way to retire. I’ve written for years, but always in answer to some technical need. Now, I write what I want about anything that I want. My readership has grown quite a bit since I began in early 2005. In addition to my Internet readers, twenty-four publications print this column. Some of those editors have begun asking me to provide 4-week’s worth of columns at a kick. I won’t do it, because it seems too much like work. You know…deadlines and all.

 

            If I had wanted to keep working, I would not have retired. Writing like this is fun; it’s why I do it. The original deal was for me to publish to the Internet and permit print media publishers to download what they wanted, as long as they paid for it and agreed to my policy of no contextual edits. It has worked quite well in both directions. I’m going to keep it that way.

 

            I’m going to begin with the News Journal, Delaware’s premier statewide daily newspaper, also available online at www.delawareonline.com. I’m not sure how long ago, but the publication began permitting readers to comment on its news stories. For nearly four and a half months, I’ve been randomly choosing three articles each day, along with an equally random selection of related comments posted by readers. The point is to establish a legitimate ratio of meaningful comment to garbage. The project is ongoing, so I’m not prepared to get into specifics or claim any degree of inferentially statistical legitimacy right now.

 

            However, a news item published several weeks ago concerned the quality of Delaware’s General Assembly. Twenty-eight comments followed the story, twenty-six of which were pure, subjective rubbish, verging on the edge of illiteracy. Most of those twenty-six comments characterized the office holders as crooked and criticized the DUMB voters of this state for sending the same ones back to Dover repeatedly. I share my favorite one—not the most illiterate one—below, in all of its numbing splendor. The poster’s screen name was “ZippIt.”

 

“Your way off base. I am a highly educated woman. I no just about everything there is about Delaware politics. I read the NJ at least 3 times a week and the Delaware State News 5 days. I no most of the people who work at leg hall. Their good people down here and they do good stuff for all of us. You need to stop critising all of us voters for what the dumb asses who dont vote do. Your probably one of them. Your stupid and your post proves it.”

 

            This poster violated a cardinal rule of self-professed omniscience, the one about the need for such folks to cover their ineptitude, ALWAYS! Otherwise, they look wretchedly silly pretending to know everything when they’ve already shown that they don’t.

 

            On a lighter note, last Tuesday evening, I was walking past a food concession at a local mall. Around eleven people—40ish to 50ish age group—were having a great time talking about, from what I could gather, s-e-x. I’m spelling it because some people give me a lot of hell whenever I talk about it!

 

            Walking by, I heard a woman’s deep, somewhat husky voice ask the group, “How many of you smoke after sex?” It was easy to see that it was all in fun, but she asked the question loud enough for everyone within a half a mile of the mall to hear it. Her question—not aimed at me, mind you—made me turn and look at her. It shocked me a little and it must have shown. In a devious sort of way, she looked me straight in the eyes, smiled and said, “Well, DO you? It’s a legitimate question, ya know.”

 

            Everyone was watching me. I could feel their eyes. Time came to a halt! “This ought to be interesting,” I’m sure they thought. Thinking as fast as I could, I dug into my emergency bag of snappy comebacks and blurted out, “Um, I’m not sure. I’ve never had the nerve and energy to look.”

 

            Someone yelled, “NICE ONE!” The place cracked up, including the woman who asked the original question. I bowed, thanked the crowd for being such a great audience, and walked off into Boscov’s Department Store.

 

            Moving along, this past Thursday I had to attend a planning meeting. I’m retired but I still do pro-bono work. I’m one of a 4-member study group involved in a project for the Delaware Department of Corrections. One of my tasks, since I’m the designated computer guru, is to find an effective way to get the raw stuff into and the meaningful stuff out of a computer. I enjoy the work because I am quantitative by nature.

 

            On the down side, I’ve hated meetings all of my professional life, especially the endless, numbing, progress-stopping, administrative show and tell kind. And, I’ve discovered that nothing has changed. There are still two sure-fire ways to slow time down, either approach the speed of light or attend endless, meaningless administrative meetings.

 

            Am I lucky or what? Later that day I got to meet one of those genuine, baccy-chewing evangelicals, bent on protecting the sanctity of marriage from “the homosexuals,” no matter the cost. Yes siree, a true “love the homo but hate the act,” Bible-thumping bigot if I’ve ever heard one. His advice to the Catholic Church on how to stop the pedophile priest problem: “Get the queers out of the priesthood and the problem will go away.” He said this to a group of seven diocese delegates as they waited to speak with diocesan officials.

 

            They ignored him out of compassion, the kind that comes from realizing how sad it is for some people to go through life displaying the emotional depth and personal maturity of seaweed. I didn’t ignore him, though. Aging has shortened that time interval between realizing someone is a moron and saying so. I called him a jerk. Screw him! Well, not me, but someone. I’d rather pass a large kidney stone than spend 5-minutes around such people.

 

            People with 3-digit IQs know that this has nothing to do with homosexual priests. However, since the Catholic Church has failed to protect its children so miserably, I think that a more efficient way to deal with the problem is to turn every suspected instance over to state prosecutors. Let them decide which ones to prosecute, including all church officials who attempt a cover-up. If convicted, send them prison for a dose of Bubba-style rehabilitation. Bubba, by the way, is that big, nasty looking prison mate dude, the one who changed the words, “Get thee behind me, Satan!” to “Bend over, Satan, I’m gettin’ behind THEE!”

 

            Finally, I ran into an old friend this past Saturday morning. He’s one of the most technically competent accountants I know. I met him five years ago and we became good friends, but we lost touch when he left the area—about a year and a half ago—to go into therapy in Eastport, Maine. I was delighted when he told me that he was finally going to get professional help. He used to be astoundingly introverted. I have no idea how he had survived professionally.

 

            He looked fine. It was great seeing and talking to him again. He’s been in therapy for about eighteen months now and it seems to be working, too. I noticed immediately that he’s become much more extroverted. He actually looked at MY shoes while he was speaking to me instead of his own. That’s some real progress! Right?

 

            Stay safe and have a great week. Even though I already have an idea for next week’s column, don’t count on it. I just received a call from the Department of Corrections. My three project team members and I are going to visit the Delaware State Hospital. People around these parts used to call it Farnhurst. Or, as the alleged sane ones still call it, “The Looney Bin.” So stay tuned; I’ll be back next week. Unless, of course, they decide to keep me there.

 

Joseph Walther is a freelance writer and publisher of The True Facts. Copyright laws apply to all material on this site. Send your comments. Just click here.