The Fates of Jonathan Kravis, Aaron S.J. Zelinsky, Adam C. Jed, and Michael J. Marando.

In the annals of the law

these four will ever stand,

as models of brave rectitude

and fundamentals grand.

Kravis and Zelinsky, 

Mr. Jed, and Marando --

Integrity embodied;

they have struck a ringing blow!

They truckled not, these heroes,

when their D-O-J exec

demanded their compliance

to on Justice place a check.

Disdaining all ambition

and defying rigid fate,

these four resigned the case en mass --

they had to play it straight!

From Olympus thunder came:

"These pipsqueaks must be birched!"

"They've made a mock of my decrees,

and my great name besmirched!"

Poor Kravis was denied a spot

in any firm of lawyers;

he now sells candy by the box

in arena foyers.

Zelinsky was demoted

and is notary on-call;

he sits on wooden benches,

sadly waiting in the hall.

Mr. Jed was hounded 

out of town and now resides

in London as a mudlark,

always waiting for low tides.

And Michael J. Marando,

with a stoicism firm,

stays unemployed, subsisting

on skim milk and raw wheat germ.

These famous four forevermore

will fill our hearts with pride.

We'll build their statues in the park

and have them purple dyed.

And when the times are troubled

to our children we will quote:

"Remember how they lost their jobs,

so do not rock the boat!"

Photo Essay: Distant Mountain.

02/12/2020

Distant mountain;

a noncommittal

monument.

02/11/2020

The mountain

accepts my admiration

with indifference.

02/10/2020

Scrapping

the sky clean

of despair.

We don't have to be alike to love alike.

President Russell M. Nelson

“We don’t have to be alike or look alike to have love for each other. We don’t even have to agree with each other to love each other.”

President Russell M. Nelson

O school me, Lord, in caring more

for those I sometimes do abhor.

The stranger and exotic guest;

help me to show them all my best.

For thou hast been misunderstood;

accused of bad when doing good.

So I must strive to drive away

all thoughts that from compassion stray!

Excerpt From My New Memoir, 'None of Your Beeswax': Making Up the News at KRCQ Radio in Detroit Lakes.

Recently divorced, I was working as a bill collector in St Paul and was desperate to get out of the Cities and do something less stressful. I usually spent nine months a year as a circus clown, but that year the divorce proceedings had put a spanner in the works as far as traveling with a mud show. So I fell back on my other career, radio news. I had a bona fide certificate from Brown Institute of Broadcasting, so I decided to put it to use.

 I got the job as news director at KRCQ up in Detroit Lakes mostly because I didn’t baulk at the miniscule salary. The janitor at the station made more than me. (Well, the janitor was the station owner’s wife . . . ) My broadcast name was Tim Roberts. You can still find it in old copies of the Fargo Forum . . . 

The owner had only one caveat for me -- ten minutes of fresh local news every day, no matter what. During the summer this was easy -- the town was swarming with tourists and their shenanigans. The police blotter was chock-a-block with juicy items. 

But come winter, when all the tourists skedaddled back home, local news became as scarce as snowflakes in the Sahara. 

I distinctly recall one desperate morning in February, when all I could scare up was a missing manhole cover on Main Street. That was my lead story -- everything else was recycled, rehashed, and stale. The station owner grimly informed me that if this turn of events continued, I would soon be out of work. I was even stealing all the lost pet announcements from the dj’s to use as news bulletins.

So I went to my favorite bar and began to think . . . and drink. Around midnight an idea penetrated my sozzled brain. I would just have to invent stories. When I sobered up the next morning, that is exactly what I did.

Some of the ones I still remember include the Pelican Rapids farmer who discovered an elephant skeleton in an old barn, and how he planned to donate it to the Children’s Museum in St Paul. Then there was an old state law in North Dakota that prohibited bringing pennies into the state from Minnesota. Something to do with Depression era economics. Meteorological records indicated that northwestern Minnesota had become fifty percent more humid in the past one hundred years due to the influx of railroad lines. And an evangelical pastor in Ogema raffled off tickets to raise money for a new church roof -- the winner would get a front pew seat in the chapel when the Rapture occurred (and the pastor knew the exact date and time.)

As I became more creative with my faux news I also felt more certain I would soon get caught out -- which, in turn, led to serious drinking sessions every night to subdue the anxiety and guilt.

I finally did get caught, when WCCO radio down in Minneapolis called the station to ask about a story I had run about a man who was involved in a lumberjack accident -- my report stated that his head had been accidentally chopped off and was being kept alive in a jar at the Bell Museum at the University of Minnesota. After a brief interview with the owner I was on my way back to life of a bill collector -- the only job an incipient alcoholic like me could get at the time.

I finally sobered up after several years in AA, and finally went back to the circus, first as a clown, then as Ringmaster, and I ended my circus career as publicity director -- a job that required a great deal of exaggeration and ballyhoo -- something I had already prepared for back in Detroit Lakes.

**************************

An email response from a reporter up in Minnesota:

Reinan, John	Tue, Feb 4, 2:57 PM (8 days ago)
to me

Tim, thanks for this note. I appreciate your sharing your story – it is not the kind of career path one hears about every day!!

I grew up in Fergus Falls, but left town after my HS grad in 1976, so I never had the chance to hear your *fascinating* news stories on KRCQ! But I’m very familiar with DL and the general area.

My first newspaper job was in Little Rock, Ark. Some of the old-timers told me that back in the day, they made up a character named Omo Fevers Bartlett, and they’d insert him into the paper occasionally on a slow day. Omo Fevers Bartlett led Arkadelphia State Teachers College to gridiron glory, or Omo Fevers Bartlett had developed a new type of cattle prod. I thought this was the greatest thing I ever heard, and the next day I quoted Omo Fevers Bartlett in a story about the state of the economy. My editor kindly but firmly informed me that we didn’t pull that kind of stunt anymore, thereby possibly saving my career.

The Westminster Homeless Show. (Prose Poem)

this year's show features many fascinating breeds:
bag ladies come in several categories --
mumbling
crying
staggering
wooden
homeless vets are a popular breed with the media.
but they are not as gregarious as 
strung out addicts.
teenage runaways must answer to their handler's voice 
on the first command
or be disqualified 
from further competition.
for the first time this year the Westminster Homeless Show
admitted breeds living in their cars. 
but only if they don't have any shower facilities nearby.
all homeless males without scraggly beards have been ruled ineligible for entry this year.
Herding shopping carts will again be the main event on both days.
a new category this year is homeless children.
as long as they're housebroken.
the entry fee has gone up this year:
a whole bag of prunes from any local food shelf.
welfare agencies are reminded to keep their homeless people
on leashes for the duration of the exhibition.
this year's grand prize winner will receive a lifetime supply 
of flea powder. 

The National Debt is now One Trillion Dollars.

Federal Reserve Chair Jerome H. Powell is telling Congress Tuesday that now would be a good time to reduce the federal budget deficit, which is expected to top $1 trillion this year.  In past recessions, the Fed has played a large role in reviving the economy by sharply cutting interest rates. But Powell has been warning lawmakers that the central bank won’t have much ammunition left to fight the next downturn since interest rates are currently so low . . . More government spending is likely to be needed to aid the economy in the next recession.

Heather Long. @byHeatherLong  Washington Post.

A trillion dollars ain't so vast;

I bet it can be paid off fast.

Just shut down Congress and evict

clerks who like to contradict.

Then raise taxes to the hilt

on gas and food and grandma's quilt.

Shake down banks until they scream,

from Silicon Valley skim the cream.

There's wealth enough in this great land;

just squeeze it out of pine and sand.

That Border Wall, we'd better settle,

is quickly sold for old scrap metal.

Once the debt is good and gone,

we send the Fed off to Oman . . . 

and live as Jefferson conceived --

as farmers in denim shirts short sleeved.

In our bodies we shall see God

. . .  wherefore I know that ye know that our flesh must waste away and die; nevertheless, in our bodies we shall see God.
2 Nephi 9:4.

The time will come

when wasted flesh,

the dead cells now revived,

will of the Spirit

of our Lord

no longer be deprived.

And in our bodies

we shall see

the God of Israel --

and know at last,

as at the first,

that with us all is well.

Of life and death

 the master,

He alone will resurrect

our spirit

and our body so we

then will be perfect.

When all the world was styrofoam

Cities and states are increasingly banning . . . foam food and beverage containers, which can harm fish and other marine life. In December, Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo of New York proposed a statewide ban on single-use food containers made of “expanded polystyrene” foam, more commonly . . . known as Styrofoam.  Maine and Maryland banned polystyrene foam containers last year, and nearly 60 nations have enacted or are in the process of passing similar prohibitions. Some elected officials and environmental groups say polystyrene containers are difficult to recycle in any meaningful way.
Michael Corkery. NYT.

When all the world was styrofoam

and you were sweet sixteen;

we tossed our cups with carefree joy,

and sparkled like caffeine.

Those happy days saw plastics rain

upon our giddy heads;

'disposal' was our watchword,

from beer bottles to torn Keds.

Ah me, how oft we cast away

a light bulb or a can.

And ate but pure white flour,

casting off the nasty bran.

Hand in hand, with plastic bags

that stuck right by our side,

we raced the fleecy cloud banks

and then watched the oil slicks glide.

But now, my love, the world grows old

and crowded with much rubbish;

it hardly seems the place that we

enjoyed as so golf clubbish.

Perhaps the two of us can fly

away up to the Moon,

to watch the litter falling soft

until it forms a dune . . . 

But they mocked the messengers of God

But they mocked the messengers of God, and despised his words, and misused his prophets, until the wrath of the Lord arose against his people, till there was no remedy.
2 Chronicles 36:16

Some people make good livings

off contempt and ridicule.

They find it pays to sabotage

the crucial Golden Rule.

There is no remedy for their

impossible conceit.

They live and die by hectoring

through word and act and tweet.

Leave them to God, and stay thyself

on Christ the living Rock.

His judgement and his mercy

overcome all those who mock.