Freedumb....oh sweete freedumb...

Im soo dange tried of editting copie and making surre that al the wordz are spelt corectily that Im seinding this psoting this two my blog in protesst.

So there.

Paper comes out tomorrow.

Where else would she be, Ferguson?

I got a book called the Big Book of Questions and Answers to go over with the kids at night. It's written by some guy named Sinclair Ferguson. The only Ferguson I remember is the Ferguson on "Clarissa Explains it All," which I never watched, but since it was on every 15 minutes during my Nick at Nite years (I was watching Get Smart and Rocky and Bullwinkle re-runs, but Clarissa was ALWAYS coming up next or tomorrow or something) I do remember Ferguson. But since Clarissa was the one explaining it (I assume) I doubt this is the same guy. (I've also been told this Sinclair Ferguson fellow speaks with a Scotish or English or Welch accent - which means when he was a kid he said, "Well, its me name, yew don't need to be hitting me fer it," a lot I assume.)

Anyway...the second question in the Big Book of Questions and Answers is "Why am I here?" (Last night was "Who am I?")

Now this "Why am I here?" question is one that has caused many a man to ponder, dissertate and/or do recreational drugs or play golf or a lot of things. I had a whole class on it in college. It's really in the big question category and while I am pretty much at peace with the answer, it still was something I gave a lot of thought to, in order to bestow wisdom on my children, so they'd think I was smarter than Dora the Explorer.

So I asked, "Why are you here?"

She thought for a second and replied, "Because I live here."

Hmm...Ol' Ferguson hadn't anticipated this one, I bet.

Tomorrow we'll ask, "Why don't you like to clean your room?"

Man Impaled on Cemetary Post

Scoop went down to the local cemetary to take a photo of a tombstone of a famous citizen of the county, only to find the cemetary locked. Investigative journalist he was, scoop immediately phoned the local Funeral home to ask "how do you get into the cemetary."

(I should have also asked if he had Sir Walter Raleigh in a can, or how to get to Carnegie Hall)

After a guffaw or two, he was advised to go to a house down the street where the caretaker would let him in.

But, he decided to take a different approach.

Deadline U.S.A.

With the newspaper looming in eight days, the editor in chief took time to watch the 1952 movie of the above title about couple of days in the life of a newspaper and a newspaper editor that takes on a local mobster and makes things right with his wife all while running the paper and drinking about a fifth of liquor.

He's got 1500 employees, which may account for his having time to woo his wife, wear an ironed tuxedo to a party and go to the bathroom without having to make a few calls during the process.

Here in 2009, the editor in chief took a break from the 75 hours a week by watching the movie, dranking a glass or two of champagne and falling asleep in front of his computer about twenty minutes after the passing of the new year.

The guy didn't even have a blog, for pete's sake.