Aw, you’re no fun.

Originally published in Countryside Post, Issue 2.5.

“Hello, you’ve reached Countryside Post. Jill isn’t here and Kent is tired of taking her messages, so if you’re calling for her, leave a message; if you’re calling for him, speak up; if you think this is unprofessional, aw, you’re no fun.” Beep.

That used to be on the Post’s answering machine. We had to take it off. We started getting hang-ups, likely from people who thought it was “unprofessional,” which is a code-word for “not dried up and humor-deprived like me; dangit, business is work!” The headline of this Letter is for them.

To me, a phone call is a request, not a demand, to talk. Don’t confuse the two. Many do, and thus become annoyed—especially when they discover that, at home, I don’t even answer the phone. I put a nutty message on the machine, which drives away all the people I don’t want to talk to. I answer, if I feel like talking, those who have the decency to leave a message.

Thumbs down on reviews.

Originally published in Countryside Post, Issue 2.4.

I’ve had to put off some people who have offered to write reviews for the Post—movie reviews, book reviews; you name it, they want to write what they think of it, and I don’t want to print it.

I don’t care for reviews. I find most of them useless; the only way I can tell whether I’d like a book or movie is by watching it. Few have the same criteria for picking entertainment anyway. We’re all entertained by different things. The only use for reviewers I have is that they tell me what something’s about, and I can get that from the advertisements.

That aside, the reason the Post doesn’t do reviews is that the Post covers local stuff, and most reviews are not of local things. The Prince of Egypt, fr’instance, is a nationally-distributed movie and is therefore not local; besides, it’s been out a month, and if you haven’t seen it by now, you’re waiting for the video.

Deadlines and Monday moveable feasts.

Originally published in Countryside Post, Issue 2.3.

Monday wasn’t really Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday, but the government has taken a tip from the church calendar and turned every holiday that isn’t on a Monday into a “moveable feast” so they can get three-day weekends. Since the Post uses a government agency called the U.S. Postal Service to distribute papers, we can’t give them the papers on those Mondays for Tuesday’s distribution. Instead, we have to give them the papers Friday, which means we have to print them the previous Thursday, which means you are now reading old news.

Heck, you’re always reading old news. Every newspaper writes its stuff the day before. You want up-to-the-second stuff, try TV, radio, and the Internet.

‘Your paper’ means you write for it.

Originally published in Countryside Post, Issue 2.2.

IF YOU WANT TO SEE SOMETHING WRITTEN UP IN COUNTRYSIDE POST, WRITE IT UP AND SEND IT IN.

I half wonder if I shouldn’t say this in every issue. It makes me tired when people complain that they attended an event and were disappointed when they didn’t see anything on it in their paper. Of course not—if you didn’t write anything about it, what makes you think anyone else did? Whatever happened to that saying, “If you want something done, you gotta do it yourself?”

How about that weather, eh?

Originally published in Countryside Post, Issue 2.1.

It’s an immediate indicator that the conversation well has run dry when someone starts talking about the weather. Therefore I won’t blame you if you skip reading this, ’cause it’s mostly about weather. Y’see, this is the first winter I’ve experienced in this area since moving here, and it’s been so cold that going to Lake Tahoe over Christmas was a relief. A relief to go someplace colder? Well, follow my logic: they’re prepared for it. The heater won’t run out of propane after one night, the pipes won’t freeze, and the hot water heater won’t burst and flood the office. Well, okay, it won’t burst there. It did burst here. So if you’re wondering why the Post’s website isn’t yet up to date, it’s because the computer got rained on. Expect the website to be updated soon; the computer’s dry now.

See you next year.

Originally published in Countryside Post, Issue 1.16.

I know, I just know, that no matter how many warnings I put into this issue, some people are gonna call the Post's office next Tuesday and say, “I didn't get my copy this week.” And the funny part is that some of them will have read all of those warnings and will have just forgot it was coming. That's okay; I do that too. You tend to forget a few things after a week. It's just a sign that we're all slowly slipping into a nice, comfortable senility. (That may sound bad, but I actually welcome senility: that way, I won't be expected to remember everything as much as I am now.)

You may not be used to newspapers taking a week off for Christmas. Like I keep saying, the Post does everything a little bit different. Part of it is because Jill and I want to spend time with our families; part of it is because our advertisers blew all their money on Xmas ads and can't afford to advertise until New Year's—and they subsidize the Post, you know. Actually, I suspect they really can afford to advertise; they probably just want a vacation after the Xmas rush. Well, I don't blame them. I want one too. So I'm outa here.

About BASC.

Originally published in Countryside Post, Issue 1.15.

There’s a meeting this Thursday at high noon in the Post’s Living Room: the first meeting of the Business Association of South County. It’s somewhat appropriate that the meeting is being held at the Post; and not just because Jill is one of BASC’s promoters.

Y’know, it’s often said that a town isn’t a real town unless it has a newspaper; and though south Nevada County is not a proper town, it is a proper community, and as such should organize community-promoting things. We have concerned citizens groups, and now a newspaper. As this area grows—and, like it or hate it, growth is inevitable unless people stop producing children—it makes sense to create a local business association.