Grumpy U. Hires a PR Director

    I can't help but be astounded buy the incredible success of the various projects of the Grumpy Bachelor International Cartel and World- Wide Mega-Monopoly, Ltd. It is almost too much for one person to ride herd on. In analyzing the growth of the various entities, it became clear to me that we needed a unified effort to publicize the various projects and, of course, to give them all the proper spin.

   As things stand now there is only the potential for spinning out of control. And while we do have writers on staff now, Mr. Kent, Lois Playne and yours truly, I saw that that was not enough. As an editor of mine is fond of saying, "You can't have a lot of reporters running around like chickens with their heads cut off. That's why I'm here!"

   So it was decided that the GBICWWMM,L needed somebody to head up the Public Affairs efforts of all its various entities. It seemed logical to make the Public Affairs Office a part of the Grumpy University, since that is the most learned of the various tentacles of the GBICWWMM,L. So word was sent out over the usual channels that the Grumpy U. was looking for a Director of Public Affairs.

   When I gathered together the search committee (Miss Penny, Lacey Magilcuddy, Cujo Mike, Mr. Kent and Lois Playne) we found we had just one applicant. That was probably not a bad thing. The committee didn't look like they were giving the proceedings their full attention. Magilicuddy was wiping down the conference table with a bar rag, Miss Penny was reading passages from "The Tibetan Book of the Dead" over some of her recent culinary experiments and Miss Playne was typing something with one hand and eating a granola bar with the other.

   Cujo Mike was flicking and old burned out disposable lighter and Mr. Kent was doing this little trick of his where he holds a fork by its tines and makes the handle bend over just by staring at it. Weird! (He says anybody can do it, but I just get a headache.)

   Nonetheless, we were obligated to go on with the proceedings. I read the name on the application form: C. Landsend Throckmorton, IV. I found it difficult to believe that someone with a name like that would live long enough to breed. That it happened to 4 consecutive generations was just mind boggling. I looked up at the applicant, who was sitting across the table from me. I wasn't sure which intimidated me more, the name or the monocle the name was wearing.

   "Mr. Throckmorton, IV. would you like to take a few minutes to tell the hiring committee and myself about your qualifications, reasons for applying for the job and some of what you hope to accomplish if you get the job?"

    Throckmorton, IV stood up, took a magenta silk handkerchief from the breast pocket of his waistcoat and spent several seconds polishing his monocle, all the while keeping a wary eye on the search committee.

   "I would like to take this auspicious occasion to extend an affirmation of my gratitude to this august gathering for the opportunity to give voice to my expectations and aspirations for this esteemed position.

   "Ahem. My anterior employment was with the Gann Herald Clarion and Courier Gazette for a period not exceeding three years in the occupation of investigative reporter. "However, it became fundamentally clear that there was little to investigate in Gann aside from the mysterious situation that existed, vis-a-vis the dual nomenclature of the village, towit: Gann and/or Brinkhaven. After I had ascertained the underlying raison d'etre for the duality of identity, I had very little else to occupy the remaining interim of my continued engagement with the aforementioned publication. "Ergo my desire to explore other employment contingencies, especially those that offered the occasion to associate with a more cultivated class of associates than mere reporters, the dregs of the literati, if I may interject a minute personal observation.

    "Thus, when I became cognizant of this magnificent opportunity to join an institute of higher learning and ply my chosen occupation in an atmosphere more befitting of my talents, I immediately endeavored to insinuate myself into the position."

   Throckmorton finally paused to take a breath, then continued. "It is my surmounting aspiration to introduce a quality of sage and profound learnedness to the declarations that are to emanate from this august body. I intend that all manner of textual release from my office be both learned and erudite. Again I express my unplumbed gratitude for this opportunity to address the gathered multitude to express myself."

   We were stunned. None of us had ever heard anything like it. It Sounded like English, but ... I glanced over at the committee. They, in turn were looking back at me with bewildered expressions. Well, I am the leader of this gang of hoodlums, so it was up to me to speak. I stood up slowly, hitched up my belt and looked Throckmorton, IV straight in the eye.

   "Erudite, my ass!"

    Long seconds passed as we stared at each other. Suddenly a fly landed on Throckmorton, IV's forehead, walked down the bridge of his nose and up his nostril. Throckmorton, IV never flinched. I turned to the hiring committee and said," What do you say gang? Is he in or gone? Everybody jumped up as one and yelled. "IN!" It must have been the fly.

   Next Week: Cleaning the attic, polishing the car, waxing the kitchen floor or taking a nap. I'll decide later..

   George Breithaupt is an essayist, fine art photographer and paginator for the Mount Vernon News. Is that erudite or what? (Where's the %#?@ dictionary?)