The Door, sentinel of journalistic history since the 1970s; preserver of privacy to the restroom.For the time being, it seems major news outlets like ABC, CBS, NBC and The 700 Club have backed off in their pursuit of an exclusive on The Door (of Shame Blame and Brilliance) here in our newsroom. It’s been more than a week since Barbara Walters has called and threatened to “DESTWOY your CAWEERS!” And thanks to a case of hemorrhoids, Morley Safer has stopped faxing us images of his rear, which were starting to resemble a topographical map of civil war battle sites.
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. Continue reading Barbara Walters, Anderson Cooper back away from… The Door
Sundays always include sleeping in late, breakfast in bed and a deep tissue massage — as long as we keep in mind this only applies to the new royal baby. Which isn’t to say Sunday mornings around here aren’t just as glamorous, depending on the kind of T-shirt and underwear I have on while standing at the coffee maker counting the drips. However, the one thing the Royals DON’T have are Sunday Flashbacks (Not counting Prince Harry). This week, we are again digging deep into the archives, back to 2003, when I still thought blogging was yet another intimate activity that raised more questions than answers. So pull up a chair, grab some coffee and let’s agree to move on from that image of me in my underwear…
This is the face of rising homeowner’s insurance.Each year, we gather as a family to have our pets blessed on St. Francis Day. We do this because we want to give our pets every advantage, particularly if there’s a chance — through divine intervention — that our Chocolate Labrador’s IQ could be raised above that of a standard carrot. I know this is supposed to be a general blessing situation, but I think God would agree there was a serious oversight during Stanley’s creation process.
I know He is very busy.
I know He sees all.
But maybe He was also trying to catch the season finale of “Hell’s Kitchen.”
Whatever the reason, somewhere in the world there’s a dog with two brains. Undoubtedly, its owners are very happy. They don’t care that their dog’s enormous cranium causes people and other dogs to stare. That’s because their dog is smart. Their dog has an instinctive understanding of things like gravity. These owners give thanks to St. Francis each day because their dog, in spite of its bulbous cranium, would never high-center itself on a coffee table in front of company. Continue reading Insurance premium up? You can thank my clumsy dog
Yes, it’s true: Friday is finally here! And so is Ned’s Nickel’s Worth on Writing, both of which are awaited for with equal amounts of anticipation! Just like French toast and mustard; your favorite TV show and a power outage; or a great hair day and tornado warning. Why so much anticipation? Because this weekly feature on writing, culled from my 15 years as a columnist and presented to readers for a mere nickel, has been referred to by Consumer Reports as “worth every penny, unless it’s Canadian.” That’s right. Many of today’s most influential writers got their start right HERE. Or at least in this general vicinity, most definitely somewhere on the planet. Here’s what some of them have to say… (and by “them,” I mean some of the greatest fictitious writers of our time):
“I set my clock by his post. Without it, I wouldn’t know when my Matlock reruns come on…”
“Each week, he offers an oyster with a pearl inside. And each week I say to myself, ‘shuck it.'”
“If you have writing questions, Ned’s Nickel’s Worth has answers. Just not about writing…”
If you have a cat, I’m sure you’ve heard about the world’s first TV program specifically designed for cats. This groundbreaking show premiered — ironically — on the Oxygen Network, which demonstrates what can happen when creative minds are allowed to collaborate freely and openly in a room that is actually being deprived of oxygen. That’s the only explanation I have for some of the things I saw on this show; things like cats doing yoga. Cat haiku. And a cat that eats with chopsticks.
Yes, I said a cat that eats with chopsticks.
As you might’ve guessed, the cat I saw doing this was Siamese, which is a breed known for its intelligence. I watched in amazement as Ying-Yow (which is Cantonese for “always hungry”) demonstrated his supreme cognitive skills by using chopsticks fitted with special “booties” to eat a mixture of dry cat food and squid. As impressive as this was, he still isn’t as smart as our cat, which would have simply run away to find a new family.
The Door, preserving journalistic history and restroom privacy. After getting Freshly Pressed last week, pressure from the major news outlets for exclusive access to The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance) has only escalated in our newsroom. And speaking of Freshly Pressed, retired ABC News reporter Morley Safer is still sending faxes of his rear with the words You Will Crack scrawled on them, hoping we will succumb to what he threatened would be “my dogged and relentless pursuit to get the story, as long as I don’t have to leave my study.”
This morning, CNN’s Anderson Cooper was the latest TV journalist to contact us for an exclusive, explaining that The Door is as historically significant to journalists as “the Geraldo Rivera mustache clippings I have preserved in my freezer.” Cooper went on to explain he felt particularly suited to preforming what he referred to as “the big reveal” of The Door to the rest of the world, and how he envisions the segment beginning with him coming out from the other side. Admittedly, I considered the idea but felt the need to explain that the other side of The Door is the newsroom commode.
“It’s not a closet?” Cooper asked.
“No, just a commode and small hand sink. And toilet paper. Usually.”
(Regular readers of this blog — or even readers dealing with irregularity — know Sundays are reserved for flashbacks. And I’m not talking about something that comes as a result of too much tequila the night before. I’m talking aboutFlashback Sundays, which is when I dust off a post or newspaper column from long ago, back when I was building a readership through the promise of free Sea Monkeys. Today’s flashback is from 2005, when I was asked to return to the scene of a crime where, a year earlier, I had committed the act of golf. I chose this post because now, eight years later, I have been asked to do it once more. The only explanation I have for this is that my publisher has started drinking again…)
Golf is so much more exciting than bowling … OK, not really. Well maybe. Actually, now that I think about it … ZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzOur universe is full of mysteries:
Easter Island.
The Bermuda Triangle.
California.
And perhaps the biggest mystery:
Why I was chosen to captain our office’s Relay for Life golf team for a second time. Being asked the first time could be attributed to office members not realizing how bad a golfer I really am. Though none of the injuries sustained during last year’s tournament were life threatening, having six golfers (two of whom were playing the hole behind me) knocked unconscious by balls with my initials on them — I thought — would become my golfing swan song.
(Speaking of which, I’d like to take this opportunity to apologize once again for the tragic death of that swan near the putting green. Had I known the difference between a putter and a pitching wedge, things might’ve turned out differently for that majestic creature.)
[Breaking News: from another strangely irrelevant moment in our news room…]
It’s Friday. A deadline day. Tomorrow’s readers will benefit from today’s laser-like focus in our newsroom — plus whatever it is I do. Today, in addition to the normal pressures and distractions that accompany a deadline day, such as a phone call from the local bridge club or the unexpected arrival of free donuts, I have THIS to contend with… Continue reading … This Just In …
Imagine my surprise when, on Wednesday, I opened my email to find something other than a window full of male enhancement offers and senior dating website links? That’s right. Sandwiched between them was something totally unexpected; something that meant a window of possibilities was about to open. I’m sure you’ve probably guessed what I’m talking about:
An email from a dethroned prince in Mozambique looking for an American bank account to send his fortune to for safe keeping.
It was while contemplating the legitimacy of Prince Imgonna Takeyourmonee’s offer that I noticed another email, this time with a name that was much easier to pronounce: Cheri Lucas Rowlands. She informed me that my latest post (If you can’t fix it with gum and duct tape, it’s not a real VW bus), was going to be Freshly Pressed.
She also told me if the excitement lasted for more than four hours, I should see a doctor.
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