Wednesday, November 19, 2003

As she sits in the bastion of the Tribune building typing away, moving the world of journalism one clickety-clack at a time, Hearst probably thinks I am an absolutely vile person. A seemingly ignored e-mail here, a missed opportunity to hang out, a journal entry gone unanswered–one plus one plus one adds up to a sum filled with negativity.

This, of course, is easily explainable. I am a horrible correspondent. There, complete absolution, and a public one at that. While I approve of the rapport you have with your youth group kids–one filled with love and imminent corporeal violence–you have sullied the very concept of the Cane of Good Behavior. Even the greenest bumpkin who just fell off the turnip truck knows that the