Sunday, June 21, 2015
The hed somewhat resembles the punchline to an old joke, but so do I. In case you don't know the joke, here's a link that might not help.
A link that will help (well, it will help me) is this one to my op-ed at the Boston Herald. Enjoy my humorous take on politics!
(There is so little politically we can all laugh about, but I think you'll agree that the main premise is extremely laughable. If you don't find it funny - instead finding it something you can get behind - I expect your donation in the mail tomorrow. If you don't find it funny - instead finding it to be something alarming - I assure you it was meant to be funny. If you don't find it funny - instead finding it just boring - that's your tough luck. No refunds.)
As always, anyone with a hard copy of one of my Herald columns in hand will gain admittance to the party I'm going to throw in 2034 when they award me my Pulitzer. There will be free artichokes for everyone attending, so it will be well worth the effort of saving the paper for almost twenty years.
If you say something kind at the website (or, even better, in an actual letter to the editor) such as, "Sully is so good I take his columns into the bedroom and read them alone with my pants down!", I will hunt you down and kill you because that makes no sense whatsoever and my editor will probably never accept anything from me again in fear of you showing up at her office someday demanding your free artichoke.
Well, this has certainly been a pathetic attempt at writing something that would get you to go read my piece in the Herald. Wash 'n wear giraffe radios!**
Soon, with more better stuff (I should hope so.)
P.S. The headline has to do with the fact that my softball games today were cancelled. The writing that followed the headline is what happens when I don't have that outlet. The only time I play now is on Sundays and then it's limited to one or two at-bats. By next week, I will have been in the on-deck circle for two weeks. This does not bode well for you or the Herald.
P.P.S. The artichoke came from here.
P.P.P.S. And, in case you were wondering ** is the answer to What did Harold Pinter say to Samuel Beckett?
P.P.P.P.S. Go read my piece in the... oh, hell, you know where to go if you want to read it. You also know where to go if you don't.