Once it’s nearing dawn’s early light and your rocket’s red glare hits my rooftop, that’s a different story.
The townsfolk have sent many a telegram to this here newspaper pointing out some of this online balderdash, suggesting that maybe the comments are becoming a little bent and wanting me to uncork the bronc.
After exhausting local leads to get this rumor verified, I submitted a fun little thing we journalists call a Freedom of Information Act request. It’s a simple note, well written and specific. The fun thing is the other person or entity, with few exceptions, must comply or face penalties and perhaps even jail time.
You race to open the cooler, shuffle through the ice and “count your blessings.” If you didn’t stock up on Saturday like the bootleggers you saw yesterday — loading their trunks with dollies stacked with cases of beer — there will be no joy found in grilling Sunday’s dinner.
I personally called BS when, in late November, the name “Cupcake” was chosen because of the Christmas holidays.
It has come to my attention that not only are many unsure of my preferred monicker, but some are also discussing the matter over dinner! It’s pretty flattering to know I’m dinnertime fodder, but let me set the record straight.
Community journalism is a double-edged sword. On one edge you’ve got an organization whose goal is to provide objective facts for the betterment of the people you serve. The other edge is just as sharp — nay, oftentimes sharper — and consists of those whose objective is to steal the spotlight from the real issues.