We’ve also heard nothing from Anderson Cooper, who seemed to lose interest in what he called “Possibly the most important piece of journalistic history since Chris Cuomo” once he discovered the other side of The Door had a commode instead of a closet.
So let us continue on as we do each Tuesday, and highlight an example of journalistic shame, blame or brilliance from The Door, which reporters have been contributing to for nearly 40 years in an effort to preserve history and, thanks to four decades of glue and tape, keep The Door from collapsing in on itself.
But before revealing today’s artifact, we must participate in the sacred tradition established by the the very first journalists (to smoke something other than tobacco) by joining hands and repeating the following phrase in a monotoned voice similar to any teenager on vacation with their parents:
“The Door is a beacon, drawing us into the jagged rocks of journalism.”
Today, we have an example of photo-journalism at its finest, demonstrating how a well-composed image can sometimes help illustrate what words can’t — possibly because it would be too gross. This clipping comes from our own newspaper in 2008, when a man attempted to pick up his Papa Murphy’s pizza a little quicker by making his own drive-thru. Thankfully, no one was seriously injured in the incident…
…However, upon closer inspection it appears an injury is about to occur after the incident, depending on how deep one bystander is willing to dig for answers.
Because I frequent this particular location, I’m happy to say this person doesn’t actually work there. If she does, you can forget about me ordering anything with pesto sauce…
Ned's Blog 
Or capers, greugh… gross, Ned! Wait, I think I just invented a new ‘grossness’ word … how cool is that?
Lol! You need to submit it immediately to Webster’s for consideration! (Used in a sentence, of course…)
Er … how about ‘Please Sir, can I have another bowl of greugh …el?’ Would that work … it should taste about the same. 😦
That should do it!
And if they don’t accept it, then it’s a bunch of greugh…
How appropriate — there are boogers on both sides of the Door. Come to think of it, there are boogers sitting OUTSIDE of the Door….
I’m usually picked last.
I feel your pain all the way up to the knuckles.
Good to know I’ve got a friend like you when life’s a booger.
Thanks for sharing that nugget with me.
That reminds me: Whatever happened to “Flicks” candy?
It’s being remarketed under a new name — “Feces Pieces”.
I thought it was “Rocky Chode,” but I could be wrong.
….have I told you lately how much I love….
is she picking her………
Yeah. I’m thinking she comes from a family of miners…
it takes village they say…
Wow, that’s deep.
Her finger, I mean…
….they also say the size of the finger is the size of the said….
*thinking*
*thinking*
*thinking*
…Gloves?
Lets hope she washed her hands…
I wouldn’t take that bet.
Well actually, maybe she has by now…
Lets also hope the insurance adjuster washed his too…as well as the reporter of the said story…always Ned …always practice no hand shaking.
If we ever meet, I promise to wash my hands first.
…and I promise…promise you, my fingers are very small and petite.
Good eye. I would not have caught that from that picture.
It’s a gift.
Or a curse. I’m not sure which.
But with great power comes… Never mind.
“But with great power comes… Never mind.” – An Indifferent Uncle Ben (not the rice guy).
Hahahahahahahahaha!
You know, if it had been the “rice” Uncle Ben, his indifference would’ve masked a steady simmer. For a minute or so anyway.
So funny!!!! My coworkers son drove into a subway… Sandwich shop not underground subway… He was just newly driving with dad with brand new permit… He thought he was hitting the brake…
Yikes! Well, I suppose he knows the difference between the brake and accelorator now…;)
that’s what happens when peeples ask too many questions. LOL
My thoughts exactly. But no questions…