Monday, April 04, 2005
Just for Corndog!
Hey, Corndog. Dr. ER says, over at her place, that I should tell you about a gang member that shares your moniker.
Here goes.
In this town in Texas where I used to be a newsman, there was this tough-ass punk of a gangbanger. One of those guys that everynone in and near crime circles -- cops, prosecutors, fellow punks, bikers, garden-variety trouble, cop reporters and their editors -- knew of. He was always in and out of the pokey for minor things, but they could never catch him on anything big.
They finally did. It was all over the front page of the paper. Caught. Red. Handed. Cops had him dead to rights. So, there was his picture, big as day, and a write-up, probably even a sidebar and a locator map to show where they busted him.
And his full real name. And his street name, which was "Coon Dog," which is a fairly respectable street name for a two-bit punk in a one-horse, two-dog Texas town.
Except the reporter got his street name wrong.
"Smith," the reporter reported,"whose street name is 'CORNDOG,' pleaded not guilty at his arraignment," or some such.
CORNDOG!
We were pretty sure that his fellow street punk-gangbangers would njever "Corndog" live it down, when he finally got out of the state pen. Yuk-yuk.
No offence, Corndog the blogger, but that's a right fine handle for a mild-mannered, well-educated, gentlemanly Vitginia gentleman such as yerself. Not so for a Texas street thug.
Same reporter did a couple of other asinine things we never forgot.
"At 26, she was reared in (Smalltown)," he wrote of one hapless lass.
But the following beats ALL. (OBSCENE SEXUAL REFERENCE AHEAD.)
In a feature about a young man meant to tell the touching story of how, after years of self-denial, he had finally come to accept his homosexuality and, as painful as was for all involved, finally outed himself to his friends and kin and conservative Texas parents, this same reporter wrote, and this is a fairly close quote:
"Jones said that he now acknowledges his homosexuality freely, but that he doesn't cram it down anyone's throat."
I am not clever enough to make that up.
--ER
Here goes.
In this town in Texas where I used to be a newsman, there was this tough-ass punk of a gangbanger. One of those guys that everynone in and near crime circles -- cops, prosecutors, fellow punks, bikers, garden-variety trouble, cop reporters and their editors -- knew of. He was always in and out of the pokey for minor things, but they could never catch him on anything big.
They finally did. It was all over the front page of the paper. Caught. Red. Handed. Cops had him dead to rights. So, there was his picture, big as day, and a write-up, probably even a sidebar and a locator map to show where they busted him.
And his full real name. And his street name, which was "Coon Dog," which is a fairly respectable street name for a two-bit punk in a one-horse, two-dog Texas town.
Except the reporter got his street name wrong.
"Smith," the reporter reported,"whose street name is 'CORNDOG,' pleaded not guilty at his arraignment," or some such.
CORNDOG!
We were pretty sure that his fellow street punk-gangbangers would njever "Corndog" live it down, when he finally got out of the state pen. Yuk-yuk.
No offence, Corndog the blogger, but that's a right fine handle for a mild-mannered, well-educated, gentlemanly Vitginia gentleman such as yerself. Not so for a Texas street thug.
Same reporter did a couple of other asinine things we never forgot.
"At 26, she was reared in (Smalltown)," he wrote of one hapless lass.
But the following beats ALL. (OBSCENE SEXUAL REFERENCE AHEAD.)
In a feature about a young man meant to tell the touching story of how, after years of self-denial, he had finally come to accept his homosexuality and, as painful as was for all involved, finally outed himself to his friends and kin and conservative Texas parents, this same reporter wrote, and this is a fairly close quote:
"Jones said that he now acknowledges his homosexuality freely, but that he doesn't cram it down anyone's throat."
I am not clever enough to make that up.
--ER
Comments:
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Now, I always credit ER with teaching me a good editing ethic. All those afternoons and evenings that I turned a story in while he was slammed on deadline and he'd always let me look over his shoulder as the hacked my lede in half or very efficiently cut words or reordered paragraphs. He caught things that I'd never see, which is why any good reporter has great copy editors backing him or her up. And I'm *sure* that ER would never write such a thing, let alone, if he'd been editing, ever let it pass!
# posted by 
: 9:27 PM
: 9:27 PM
Why, thanks ol' O'Colly buddy. :-) And yer right. Wadn't me who wrote it or let it get in. Glad it did, though. Makes great newspaper lore. :-)
You know, that story's kinda hard to swallow. It's got me pounding ... something trying to figure out what the reporter was thinking. And what swollen-assed editor let that fly. The editor must've had a mouthful.
It's kind of like a publication I read Sunday about Pope John Paul II, who, like many priests, I suppose, "... had a special love for youth." Woops. Some editor in the Oklahoma's largest newspaper let that one through. I just kind of laughed outloud for several minutes.
It's kind of like a publication I read Sunday about Pope John Paul II, who, like many priests, I suppose, "... had a special love for youth." Woops. Some editor in the Oklahoma's largest newspaper let that one through. I just kind of laughed outloud for several minutes.
"Mild-mannered"?!? I haven't been ranting enough lately. 'Cause what I'm going for is back-of-the-tongue jalapeno, sneaky-spicy, if that makes any sense. But I'll take the "gentleman" as a compliment as soon as I'm done laughing at the story. Reminds me of Ron White's "Tater Salad" story.
And as for "well-educated," just because you sit at the feet of the masters doesn't mean you learn anything.
And as for "well-educated," just because you sit at the feet of the masters doesn't mean you learn anything.
# posted by : 1:02 PM
: 1:02 PM
"You got me. You caught the Tater." Ron White ROCKS. Dr. ER and I know he's the real deal, 'cause he is an archtype Texan, the kind she used to try to keep outta her britches as a younger big-haired Texas gal, and the kind I used to try to emulate until Dr. ER set me straight (more or less.)
I think any of us who have been editors have our favorite bloopers. One of mine (of many by the same reporter) concerned a Catholic funeral Mass. Not only did reporter get the name of the church wrong ("Our Lady of Perpetual Health" instead of "Our Lady of Perpetual Help") but also misunderstood the funeral home. Reporter called the rite a "Massive Christian Burial" instead of the "Mass of Christian Burial."
Not quite as racy, but still, they make me laugh 20 years later.
Not quite as racy, but still, they make me laugh 20 years later.
Hoo hoo. These had me and Dr. ER cracking UP, which is a great way to start a day!
Nick: The reporter in question left the biz even before I left, with a master's degree in some kind of business-education-training something; he headed some outfit that rehabbed drug and alchohol, I think, or something like that. Memory is fuzzy. I do know he wound up being quoted in the apper al lot when public funding was cut. (How's that for a bundle of small ironies?) :-)
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Nick: The reporter in question left the biz even before I left, with a master's degree in some kind of business-education-training something; he headed some outfit that rehabbed drug and alchohol, I think, or something like that. Memory is fuzzy. I do know he wound up being quoted in the apper al lot when public funding was cut. (How's that for a bundle of small ironies?) :-)
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