Statesman goes to the dogs
Don Day | February 11, 2008Oh brother.
An obituary for a dog that ran in the obituary section of the Sunday Idaho Statesman was published inadvertently, Statesman Sales and Marketing Director Travis Quast said.
“The newspaper does not accept pet obituaries in the obituary section and we sincerely apologize to the families and anyone who may have taken offense to the placement of this pet obituary,” Quast said.
Pet obituaries and in-memoriam ads are accepted and placed on an individual basis in other sections of the newspaper.
For information on placing such ads, call 209-377-6333.
Notice they got their own phone number wrong?
Did you notice you spelled “brother” wrong?
HAHAHAHAHA.
Damn.
It did not offend me in the least bit being a pet lover. I just assumed that with the demise of the “local” papers circulation, sales, and readership that they were trying to test a trial balloon….This one turned out to be made of LEAD.
Dont be surprised by the actions of despiration.
Now from a managerial point of view… isnt anyone watching the ship… or as a “local” paper staffer can you do just about anything you want? I thought that is why they had just personnel as EDITORS.
I think this entire situation is HILLARIOUS too…..
Fido was a hell of a dog. He always fetched me the paper when I needed it. Now that he’s gone, I use the paper to catch the surprises that his “progenie” has left behind. Boohooh! Let me shed a tear! LOL
At least it’s not the Idaho State “Urinal.”
Once again, any goodwill you earn for your efforts keeping people up to date on all things radio here in the valley is offset by your obsession with the newspaper. Your carping gets old and tired and makes you look a bit silly. But it’s your site. You make it look like you’re taking the high road with your so-called cryptic remark about what you’ll post but you stoop to poke fun of any little mistake the paper publishes.
Whatever.
Actually that is there phone number to the Classified Ads section of the paper. This I know cause I had to place an ad today.
“Actually that is there phone number to the Classified Ads section of the paper.”
THEIR.
Yeah, well. The Statesman pretends to be good, Tim. I don’t. :)
whose cat pooped in Tim’s frosted flakes?
Tim doesn’t eat Frosted Flakes. They have sugar, and he’s only allowed one milligram of sucrose a month.
Lets all chip in a few bucks and go down to the Pound and buy Tim a puppy…he needs the love.
I think Tim’s on the right track.
Puppies smell funny.
Thank you “The” for being the grammer police. I am now writing 500 times, ‘their not there.’
KJ…that’s ‘grammar’ police!
Damn It! Now I’ve got to re-write the sentences.
KJ,
You have been found guilty of bad grammar by the grammar police. As you attorney, I suggest consulting with the right Rev. Dr. Billy Bob Gloria and ask for repentance. By then, I believe we can make a case for bail with Judge Judy and the grammar court.
Buster, thanks for the advice. It is my intent to get a hold of The Right Rev. Dr. Billy Bob Gloria and ask to be forgiven. Thanks for the blast from the past!
Dead puppies aren’t much fun
They don’t come when you call
They don’t chase squirrels at all
Dead puppies aren’t much fun
KJ,
You are welcome. I remember listening to you on KGEM back in my junior high and early high school days. I used to send in the Notus School lunch menus just to hear The Right Rev. make comment on that day’s adventure into culinary excellence (or the lack thereof).
Later in my high school academic career, I invited you and Doug Raper to Notus to speak to the journalism class. I’m sure that was a memorable experience for you (NOT!!!)
I should consult the Right Rev. as well. Please note the spelling omission in this sentence, “As you attorney, I suggest consulting with the right Rev. Dr. Billy Bob Gloria and ask for repentance.” I throw myself upon the mercy of the court for my transgression.
KJ Mac and Buster Bronco….that is funny I don’t care who you are….thanks for making me smile this morning.
When I first saw it I thought I was going to have to tell my older kids that their mom, my ex-wife had passed then I realized it was some other curly haired b^&%h.
During my junior year at Notus High School, I was serving the second of two terms as senior editor of the high school newspaper. I had invited Paul J. to visit the journalism class. When the details for the visit had been finalized, I placed a notice on the bulletin board just outside the office. The notice likely was on the bulletin board for at least two weeks, possibly more.
The day of the visit arrived. Paul J. registered at the office, stated his purpose for being there, and asked for me. I came from class, introduced myself, and exchanged pleasantries with Paul J. Unknowingly, the superintendent, who we affectionately called “The Boss”, had re-entered the building and rounded the corner into the office area.
Suddenly, the voice of God sounded from just outside the office. “Mr. Thomson, I’d like to speak with you around the corner”, the superintendent said.
Now our superintendent at the time was a man who had taught and coached at Notus for years before becoming superintendent. He wore pastel colored suits and walked as straight as an arrow with an aristocratic attitude. He was nearing the end of his career and chose not to attend extracurricular school events.
Like a dutiful little puppy wondering what I had done to deserve such an “honor”, I approached the superintendent. “Mr. Thomson, that’s Paul J. Schneider” he said seemingly in disbelief and somewhat starstruck. I thought, “Wow!!! So now we know you didn’t get to be superintendent on talent alone. You have brains too.”
“Yes sir”, I said.
“Why is he here?”, the superintendent asked.
“To speak tot he journalism class”, I said.
“And I was not informed?”, The Boss inquired.
“No sir. But the notice had been posted on the bulletin board for sometime”, I said trying to smooth over the error I was not aware I had made.
“Seventh hour classes will be canceled for an all school assembly today. Mr. Schneider will address the entire school and you will introduce him. Afterwards, you will give him a tour of our facilities. Should you be too late to catch the bus after school, I will provide you a ride home. Understood?”
“We will need to ask Mr. Schneider about that, Sir. He is only prepared to speak to ten of us and not the whole school.”
“Do so then and see what he says. I want the whole school to hear his comments”, The Boss commanded.
I asked Paul J. and he graciously agreed to speak to the whole school. His presentation lasted about an hour. I gave him the chef’s tour of the facilities and he rode his motorcycle off into the eastern horizon.
The journalism teacher asked if I needed a ride home. I had driven my car to school that day and was thankful I did to avoid having to ride home with “The Boss”, who in traditional administrator style, had passed the buck to the journalism teacher.
“The Boss” never asked me what Paul J. said that day. He may have had his office door opened and listening. However, he did become more observant of the bulletin board. Several weeks later, I had invited Wayne Dzubak to class. Dzubak was sports editor for KIVI at the time. The Boss calls me in to the office and says he will not call an assembly for this, but I am to give the tour again.
“How did you know Mr. Dzubak was coming?, I asked.
“I saw it on the bulletin board”, he sheepishly responded with his eyes focused downward at the paperwork on the desk.
I returned to class grinning. I had made my point with The Boss.
Was your superintendent named….Morford?
Um KJ…did you place your classified ad in Modesto or Stockton, CA? Note the area code. And I think your gramer erors are endeering. :-)
Yes, his name was Robert B. Morford. We have had great conversations since he retired. He is not as imposing today as he was twenty years ago. We have had great conversations since my graduation. He has very interesting insights on education. The old adage of adults becoming smarter as the student or child gets older is true in this case.
Tommy, I am too stupid to live! Okay! Don is right, I am wrong…again! I am sure it won’t be the last time I am wrong on this board or in my life, ’so I’ve got that going for me, which is good. I think’!
Oh KJ, don’t be so hard on yourself… you can still live. :)
Any person strong enough to admit his weaknesses is really showing the strength of their character.
Ah, yes, Buster Bronco…and remember — “He who shall, so shall he who!”
Buster I totally agree with your statement regarding strenth of character… but the problem is there seems to be no shortage of folks who have limited intelligence or have failed to develope our sense of “enlightenment” for that reason… I have to side with Teddy R… “Walk softly but carry a big stick” Sadly kindness and forgiveness are not always seen as strengths…if they were no cops would have to carry sidearms etc…. I did enjoy your story of your high school daze… you displayed much class in upstaging your principal without ever having to lose your cool…..or letting him know of your satisfaction over the situation.
Yes, there are those, including myself at times, who need to be enlightened with President Roosevelt’s stick (and my 13 EEE steel toed work boot) at times. I have neighbors that are perfect examples of this. They are they type that are not smart enough to come in from the rain because they are still trying to figure out what rain is. They stand around like turkeys, get hit by raindrops, look up, and get hit in the face by the rain and drown. It’s pretty amazing.
Regarding my superintendent, I had the advantage of being good friends with the principal and the head custodian. The head custodian was a former high school student and athlete for the superintendent and the principal had worked for the superintendent for about twenty years. They both told me the superintendent was one of these guys that you went to with an idea (the seed) and then wait a month or so. Eventually, the seed would grow when the superintendent had an idea and it would be roughly the same as the original idea.
The principal and custodian both believed “The Boss” had seen the poster advertising Paul J.’s visit many times as he walked through the hall. After all, a white piece of notebook paper with large letters in blue ink is hard to miss on an uncluttered bulletin board. They think the seed had been planted and actually seeing Paul J. in the office germinated that seed to the point it became the idea of the assembly.
In a roundabout way, I got the credit for my hard work because the assembly was talked about for a week or so and I got to spend a little quality time with Paul J. From then on, if I needed something long term from “The Boss”, I simply made an appointment, planted the seed, and watched it grow.
You should hear the story of how happy “The Boss” was when my officer team and I singlehandedly bailed the FFA program out of financial ruin. Another story, another format, another time.