With apologies to
As I was going up the stair
This is a tale so spooky that the submitter of the e-mail that prompted it automatically becomes my E-mailer of the Week. A simple question from
"Why is the flea-flicker called the flea-flicker and who first ran it?"
Hmmm, shouldn't be that hard a matter to research, I reasoned, although somewhere in the cobwebs upstairs I had a dim recollection of once going through this. I found an entry in
And then... oh my God... he cites his reference for this bit of information as the 1967 book,
"I'd ask Dr. Z myself," he ended it, "but frankly, the man terrifies me."
When I read that I just had to show
"I'm so excited I just don't know what to say," was her response.
• My second entry is another deep one.
The answer is, "kind of." You try to fight it but sometimes you involuntarily protect good sources. But I did a worse thing. My first newspaper job... the
Shortly thereafter a young referee announced he was quitting the league because of the way the Crawfords got their way in just about everything. I didn't use the item. Our competitor, the
This probably isn't exactly what you're talking about, but it's all very complicated. When I was the
One day he came over to me and said, "There's going to be a time when I get old and I'm not playing well. I want you to write it. It won't affect our friendship." I was almost in tears. "I'll never write that," I said in a strangled voice. And I never did.
As far as writers "pimping the super stars," as we call it. Oh, sure. Happens all the time.
• A disconnected, meandering set of scattershots from
• I know everyone's just frantic to get to the "How could you?" section, concerning
• OK, Rich, and it's you,
• Same complaint from
Oh, getting back to Fuzz of the previous e-mail, you hit on something interesting when you asked me what I have against
I remember once talking to the old Chiefs kicker