The special today includes fava beans, wheel of cheese
Attention everyone! I have a brief announcement to make.
Today’s stumble down the evolutionary ladder is dedicated to Richard Cooper. On Sunday, he beamed an e-mail to the newspaper noting my recent absence due to the Thanksgiving distractions.
“The best piece of news in today’s Spokesman, to me,” he wrote, “was the fact that Doug Clark’s column would be absent today through Tuesday.”
Well, Mr. Cooper, I have news for fans like you.
It’s Tuesday. I’m back. And even better …
It’s Reeeeaaader’s Windbaaag time!
This semi-regular fixture is the newspaper’s ONLY forum that lets readers see their ravings aired without fear of being identified, verified or punched senseless by beer-drenched members of the Detroit Pistons.
Such as …
A chilling case, indeed
Reading last month’s story about the confused guy who stuck the corpse of an elderly woman in a freezer after she expired of natural causes, Les e-mailed me the following sensitive observation:
“Call Anthony Hopkins. Serve her with a baked potato and a nice vegetable.”
Les. Les. Les.
You should be thoroughly ashamed. If you’re going to stoop to a tasteless Hannibal Lecter reference, please, get it right.
It’s “fava beans and a nice chianti.”
He cheddars to think of it
“I was shocked to see our city put to shame by the fromage-consumption of the British and French,” writes Anthony.
The reference is to Spokane being the nation’s municipal Muenster monster.
It’s a fact. While 7 pounds is the national annual per-person figure for cheese eating, the average Spokanite crams a yearly 10.4 pounds down his (or her) pizza pie-hole.
But as proud as we should be, we’re cheese-nips compared with the Brits who consume almost 18 pounds a year.
And those brie-binging beret wearers? The French average 53.14 pounds.
Sacre bleu cheese!
I see this as our big chance to attain that identity the boosters are always searching for. We just need to up our yearly intake by a mere 43 pounds and …
Hello World’s Cheesiest City.
New civic slogan: Spokane. Cuts the Cheese. Leads the Whey.
Get your morons runnin’
There’s trouble in River City. But this time it’s not the dope dealers, petty thieves or streetwalkers.
According to Keith, the new villains are “trailer trash mini-biker gangs who have no respect for the law or civilized appearance.”
In an e-mail, Keith offers a diabolical scheme to take care of the “middle-aged stoners” who pollute our streets with their noisy motorized scooters.
1. Post fliers offering Motley Crue and Skid Row T-shirt giveaway at the Arena.
2. After the mini-bikers show up, give them free bus rides to a Whitesnake concert.
3. Haul them all instead to the defunct Aryan Nations headquarters in North Idaho.
Then “we build a fence around the compound and let them inbreed to extinction.”
MaHagma Grandi works, too
Not everyone loves ba-zillionaire Duane Hagadone’s plan to close Coeur d’Alene streets for a hotel expansion and posy garden.
“My family has a special name for Mr. H,” writes Francie. “We call him Duane Hogitall.”
And I won ‘Survivor,’ too
“Are you the same Doug Clark who ran the Le Grizz 50-mile ultra marathon near Hungry Horse, Mont.?” asks another Keith in an e-mail. “Results show a Doug Clark from Spokane finishing the race. Is that you?”
Fifty miles, you say?
Hmm. You’d think I’d recall something like that.
No, wait. Now I remember.
Up yours, Cooper.