As evidenced by my previous columns on doughnuts and eyebrows, it’s obvious that coming up with a scintillating topic for a kick-butt column is not as easy as one might think. So, I decided that today I would take the coward’s way out and just spend time commenting on and apologizing for my previous submissions.
Back in the day, several months ago, before I became a savvy journalist, I didn’t realize that without a disclaimer, one is expected to tell the truth in newspapers. Who knew? With that being said (don’t you just hate that phrase? In my book of A Few Things That Really Make Me Want to Hurl, it’s right up there with “Clearly” and “Does that make sense?”) Anyway, that being said, I’d like to start today with mea culpas to my grand dog and Sara, my daughter-in-law.
Annabel and her New York canine cronies were the topic of a column last year, and I’m ashamed to say I took some liberties with the truth. Before publication, my daughter-in-law, a journalism major, sent me several pages (OK one page) of edits that, in hindsight, I should have heeded. It would have saved me from the remorse and shame that haunts me, even as we speak.
Clearly, I played a little fast and loose with the facts. All the dog names were real, but I did switch them up a bit. In my defense, the names and breeds were authentic, but it seemed to me that the owners were clueless and didn’t understand the world in terms of optimal literary symbiosis. Clearly, it was my duty to set things right. That being said, my conscience is now as clear as can be expected.
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As long as we’re on the subject of veracity, I’m here to report that one of the following must be true:
A. San Luis Obispo County is a bastion of leftwing wackos.
B. People have weighed in on the idea that we CAN all just get along.
C. The only people who read my column are my friend Ed, the retired FBI agent, and my husband Mick, who’s worried that I might take his name in vain. Again.
Because I’m an honest journalist, I have to go with “C.” The reason I mention this is because I wrote about marijuana recently, and not necessarily in a bad way. I got no blowback — NONE! No letters, no emails, nada. My column on hummingbirds however, nearly blew the lid off the county. That being said, I never inhaled. Clearly. Ed, does that make sense?
I do love to get feedback well usually. Honestly, the guy who wrote, “Zzzzzzzzzzzzz,” in response to one column might have been a tad more subtle. But I loved the advice from Richard in Nipomo, after the piece about gardening and my damning of the gophers. He suggested I try something called a “Rodenator.” According to Richard, he had 101 gophers when he moved into his place, and after cranking up the Rodenator, he has none. That being said, I’m more interested in how he accomplished the original gopher count. It makes me wonder if he is being loosey goosey with his statistics? Clearly, he wasn’t trained as a journalist. At any rate, he guaranteed the machine would take care of my problem, but after watching the video, I’m convinced it would also obliterate any semblance of lawn that exists. But, oh so tempting
While we’re on the topic of pests, I wonder if Richard might have a suggestion for getting rid of bats. We have 101 of them in our breezeway, and it’s not the poop that bothers me as much as the potato bug parts that they leave behind after they have dinner. If you’re going to eat a potato bug, why get squeamish when it comes to the legs? I just don’t feel like bats think logically. Clearly, it makes sense that potato bugs have a place in my hurl book.
That being said, Richard call me.