Bits O' Bull No. 488!
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From: Peter Langston <psl>
Date: Thu, 1 Oct 98 11:58:51 -0700
Subject: Bits O' Bull No. 488!
Excerpted-from: BONG Bull No. 488!
THE BURNED-OUT NEWSPAPERCREATURES GUILD'S NEWSLETTER
Copyright (c) 1998 by BONG. All rights reserved.
POWER LUNCH. D.C. Bureau reporters for the Times, the Chicago Trib and the
Dallas Morning News meet at the Reflecting Pool for lunch.
The Timesman looks in his Cartier lunch basket and gasps, "Coq au vin!
If I get this one more time, I'm throwing myself into the pool and
The Trib reporter looks in his Roy Rogers lunchbox and gasps, "Whitefish
and capers! If I get this again, I'm throwing myself into the pool and
The Dallas Morning News reporter opens his brown bag and gasps,
"Meatloaf and cheese! If I get this again, I'm throwing myself into the pool
The next day, the Timesman finds coq au vin, jumps into the pool and
drowns. The Trib man finds whitefish and capers, throws himself into the
pool and drowns. And the DMN man finds meatloaf and cheese, throws himself
into the pool and drowns.
At the joint funeral, the Times widow wails, "Oh, if only I hadn't made
coq au vin!" And the Trib widow wails, "Oh, if only I hadn't made whitefish
and capers!" And they look at their companion. "Don't look at me," the
Dallas Morning News widow asserts. "He packs his own lunch."
ON-THE-JOB EXPERIENCE. A college student takes a part-time job as a night
watchman where there has been a lot of pilferage. At the end of his first
night's work the boss asks if anyone came through the gate.
"Yeah," the young man says, "about 15 guys, but all they had with them
were wheelbarrows full of dirt, so I let them pass."
"Are you a journalism student?" the boss asks.
"Why yes, why?" the student asks.
"Because this is a wheelbarrow factory."
KEEP SPARE KEYS. Two photographers go on assignment and when they come out
they discover they have left the keys in the ignition and the car doors are
locked. The first photographer tries coathangers, camera straps and tree
branches, but nothing unlocks the doors. Pretty soon it starts to rain and
the other photographer complains, "Hurry up, do something! It's raining
and we have to put the top up!"
WHICH DOOR? An assistant managing editor dies and arrives in Hell, where
Satan growls, "I gotta escort these other sinners into the pit, lady. Take
a seat and wait a minute!"
Terrified, the editor peeks behind a door and sees an editor agonizingly
formatting 12 million lines of box scores on a flaming computer.
Aghast, she peeks behind a second door and sees an editor writing 23
million headlines on a mountain of copy written by a shrill, egomaniacal
restaurant reviewer who shrieks at every line.
In despair, she looks behind a third door and sees another assistant
managing editor like herself, chairing a never-ending meeting, munching
bonbons, surrounded by fresh-faced admiring reporters sucking up to her
with gifts of flowers, fresh fruit and fine wines and telling her she's a
Satan returns and asks, "Well, which door, 1 or 2?"
The assistant managing editor says, "I'd like Door 3, please."
"You can't have Door 3," Satan says. "That's Reporter Hell."
THE TALENT SEARCH NEVER ENDS. A rich Texas publisher sees a ragged,
starving beggar in the street and gives him a dime. Gratefully, the beggar
says, "Go with the Steelers by three in double overtime!"
The publisher puts it in his column, it happens, and he comes back with
another dime. "Boston in five games," the beggar says in return.
Boston wins the Series in five and the publisher, now nationally famous,
gives the beggar another dime and asks about the basketball lockout. The
beggar dictates five takes that win the publisher a Pulitzer.
Back again with another dime, the publisher says, "Hey, old man, I'd
like to hire you as a sports reporter!"
"Naw," the beggar says, rattling the coins in his cup. "Why would I
want to take a pay cut?"
LIGHTS ON BUT NOBODY HOME. A newspaper editor announces that there's enough
money in the budget to install a newsroom chandelier. The reporters huddle
and send a spokesman to say they're against it.
"Against it? Why?" the editor asks.
"First," the reporter says, "no one on the staff can spell 'chandelier'
well enough to put it on an order form. Second, I don't believe that anybody
here can play one if we had it. And third, if you got that much money, we
think you should get a hanging light instead, to brighten up the office!"
- - - - - - -
Email to firstname.lastname@example.org. In the text say subscribe bong-l.
Fully paid on his starving-artist tax, BONG Chief Copyboy Charley Stough,
Dayton Daily News, 45 S. Ludlow St., Dayton, Ohio 45401 slides a Form 1040X
to NYTNS bleacher bums worldwide. Phone (937) 225-2445 after 5 p.m.
eastern. Fax 225-2489. E-mail email@example.com.
© 1998 Peter Langston