The one that didn't run
[I have found that holding resentments (grudges) is unhealthy for the holder. It creates heartburn, jangles up the blood and can give birth to tension headaches from hell. Therefore, I hold no resentment against the person who made the editorial decision not to publish the following "Starting Over" column. Howsomever, I believe that the subject of this column is such a dishonest and reprehensible critter that it needs be published in some venue or another. So here it is.]
"Operation Silk Purse"
My grandmother used to have a saying for every situation. One she used to whip on me fairly often and that was “If you can’t say something nice about someone, button your lip.” It’s one that I ought to heed more often, but the business I’m in requires that I often must express occasionally unflattering opinions about various public persons and the way they conduct themselves. Perhaps my own favorite of Granny’s sayings is one that you don’t hear much anymore: “You can’t make a silk purse from a sow’s ear.”
One of our earlier US presidents admonished us that whilst it is possible to continuously dupe the gullible few and occasionally gull the entire populace it is impossible to fool everyone forever. Even those slowest of us, if we are not simpletons, eventually will catch on to the machinations of the snake-oil peddler.
Perhaps a bit of historical perspective is in order here. The little editor is, for want of a better term, a hired gun who was brought to town by a former Telegraph publisher whose misanthropic bent led directly to the founding of the North Platte Bulletin. The Bulletin was, and is, staffed by a bevy of skilled and talented folks whom that publisher managed to run off from the Telegraph, including the very talented editor who preceded the little hired gun and who now edits the Bulletin. That publisher’s own failings and the rising fortunes of the Bulletin—standing where no newspaper had stood before—led to his professional demise; but he gave us an awful legacy, a sort of a poisoned apple left hanging on the tree. The little editor walks among us (figuratively speaking of course) sowing hate and discontent wherever he treads.
Some were on to him from the very start. People who have worked for him have told me that he is a very angry and vengeful person who is in the habit of massaging a legitimate news story so that his own agenda and prejudices proclaim themselves from the news pages as well as from the editorial section. Lots of local folks are catching on.
His notoriety has even spread beyond our area. A Bulletin reader writes from Lincoln concerning the recent rise in local public negativity: “Of course, none of this could happen without the willing participation of [Telegraph editor] Dave Simpson. He may not be a member of the association, but he certainly is a ‘camp follower and drum beater.’”
Whatever else he is, the little editor is not totally stupid. He is obviously aware that his credibility is fading. In an effort to rehabilitate his rep the almost-daily ran a quarter page, full-colour ad extolling the little editor’s journalistic virtues. (Operation Silk Purse we call it here at the Bulletin.) He needs to get a much tighter hold on the reins, though. If one of my employees ran a photo of me that made me look like Punxsutawney Phil wearing a necktie and spectacles I would boot him immediately.
I guess I’ve really trashed Granny’s maxim on not speaking ill. Oh, well, Granny never met the little editor, did she?
"Operation Silk Purse"
My grandmother used to have a saying for every situation. One she used to whip on me fairly often and that was “If you can’t say something nice about someone, button your lip.” It’s one that I ought to heed more often, but the business I’m in requires that I often must express occasionally unflattering opinions about various public persons and the way they conduct themselves. Perhaps my own favorite of Granny’s sayings is one that you don’t hear much anymore: “You can’t make a silk purse from a sow’s ear.”
One of our earlier US presidents admonished us that whilst it is possible to continuously dupe the gullible few and occasionally gull the entire populace it is impossible to fool everyone forever. Even those slowest of us, if we are not simpletons, eventually will catch on to the machinations of the snake-oil peddler.
So it is that the general populace of our fair town has begun to awaken to the churlishness of the little editor of the almost-daily corporate newsletter, the North Platte Telegraph, who has been masquerading as a conservative probably because someone told him that most of us here are conservative by nature.
Perhaps a bit of historical perspective is in order here. The little editor is, for want of a better term, a hired gun who was brought to town by a former Telegraph publisher whose misanthropic bent led directly to the founding of the North Platte Bulletin. The Bulletin was, and is, staffed by a bevy of skilled and talented folks whom that publisher managed to run off from the Telegraph, including the very talented editor who preceded the little hired gun and who now edits the Bulletin. That publisher’s own failings and the rising fortunes of the Bulletin—standing where no newspaper had stood before—led to his professional demise; but he gave us an awful legacy, a sort of a poisoned apple left hanging on the tree. The little editor walks among us (figuratively speaking of course) sowing hate and discontent wherever he treads.
Some were on to him from the very start. People who have worked for him have told me that he is a very angry and vengeful person who is in the habit of massaging a legitimate news story so that his own agenda and prejudices proclaim themselves from the news pages as well as from the editorial section. Lots of local folks are catching on.
His notoriety has even spread beyond our area. A Bulletin reader writes from Lincoln concerning the recent rise in local public negativity: “Of course, none of this could happen without the willing participation of [Telegraph editor] Dave Simpson. He may not be a member of the association, but he certainly is a ‘camp follower and drum beater.’”
A Colorado subscriber opines: “ I ain’t always glad I’m me, but I’m overjoyed I’m not Simpson. That bruiser must eat a **** sandwich for breakfast every morning.” (The word bruiser and the asterisks are mine. This is a family newspaper.) And an official in the State Department of Development tells us that the pervasive negativity engendered by the Telegraph and its allies has already begun to poison the atmosphere in and around North Platte so much so that prospective businesses are already beginning to discount us as a possible place to locate.
Whatever else he is, the little editor is not totally stupid. He is obviously aware that his credibility is fading. In an effort to rehabilitate his rep the almost-daily ran a quarter page, full-colour ad extolling the little editor’s journalistic virtues. (Operation Silk Purse we call it here at the Bulletin.) He needs to get a much tighter hold on the reins, though. If one of my employees ran a photo of me that made me look like Punxsutawney Phil wearing a necktie and spectacles I would boot him immediately.
I guess I’ve really trashed Granny’s maxim on not speaking ill. Oh, well, Granny never met the little editor, did she?
posted by Bob Gambs at 8:20 PM
2 Comments:
test post for working
Bwahahahaha! Oh Mr. Goat, this is absolutely priceless. We get The Bulletin every week just to read your column. It's a shame someone wimped out and wouldn't publish this one. I'm glad you got it out somehow, though. (Although I have to say, I've seen your picture on your column in the Bulletin, and I don't know if you should go making fun of others'.)
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