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A Dick and Jane story

Once upon a time, there was a strange, angry little sports editor. Let's call him Dick. He and the little woman -- shall we call her Jane? -- had many little children at home. Dick and Jane seemed like two peas in a pod, them against the world.

But every day he would come to his newsroom and shoot himself in his little foot, or stick his little foot in his big mouth. "I hate girls!" he would say. "I hate readers! I hate athletes! I hate journalists! I hate bosses! I hate girl bosses the most!"

People shook their heads and said, "Trouble in paradise, little Dick?" To one another they said, "What will become of little Dick?" and "He has so little sense," and "He has so little patience," and "Has anybody seen little Dick lately?" and "He's usually in the little boys' room," and "A little help here! Little worried about the sports section!"

Little did they know, little Dick had big issues. Little work was getting done. After many admonitions from the big boss, little Dick stamped his little feet and ran away. He took his toys with him and vowed never to play again. See Dick run.

Time passed. He and the little woman missed the playground, and began calling all the former workmates at all hours, at home and the office, leaving bizarre, abusive messages and threats that sounded, really, like there had been a little substance use, perhaps one too many little drinkypoos? Some people don't know how to behave and make friends. They just pull hair and snap bras and inflict titty twisters. We call them little boys, and most grow out of it, but some never do. See little Dick? See how he ran? But he got lonely, didn't he? Because nobody would play with him anymore. He and his little family grew so unhappy they ramped up their obnoxious little visitations until the big bosses called the law on his little ass. The little guy was restrained from having personal contact with his former workmates. So he packed up his little red wagon and ran even further away, hurling curses behind him. Run, Dick, run. Everybody forgot all about little Dick. Until Monday, when he stepped on it and dragged it in the dirt. As usual.

Who the Hell is Dave Haerle?

"Real Women Ride Harleys" -- to Divorce Court
(Skip the post; the meltdown starts at the comments)

Trolls, or, Why are People So Mean?
(In which the Mrs. speaks up by name -- in the comments)

8 comments:

  1. Ouch...let's keep this tortuous story up...it could be quite entertaining and profitable for you.

    When does it become libelous?

    Is the the restraining against Jane or is she lumped in with him...'cause she's unaware of it if she is.

    Does Jane score any points for trying to change and escape from the evil clutches of Dick?

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  2. Here's my question:

    Why was Haerle allowed to keep working at the R-S? I honestly don't remember seeing him do much "work" when I was there. Add that to his winning personality, and it boggles the mind to why he wasn't sent packing earlier.

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  3. Well, he's not a bad writer. He used to be a good worker.

    I think he got burnt out and felt used up by the corporate system.

    Journalism should be a craft or an art...not a commodity whose only value is determined by stockholders and their return on their investment.

    I like the idea of returning it to the artists...and wrestling it away from the bean-counters. I think it'll be a better product, and far more valuable to the public that it should serve--earn that constitutional protection.

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  4. I'd like to say that I regret getting on the Comments Train in regard to this man. He must be in a great deal of pain. He can't be happy, can he?

    Nothing twists the human spirit like hurt, real or imagined. In fact, the "imagined" kind is probably the worst. All I know is I have enough delusions of my own to take any joy in participating in those of others.

    Dave, if you're reading these comments, I would gently suggest you let it go. Take comfort in the fact that you're still being paid to write and that Redding, and those you believe have wronged you, are far behind you now. It's probably a bad idea to feed off the negative feelings you generated (you did do that, you know.)
    Let it go, dude.
    Just a thought.

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  5. Here's a thought for all of you...what happened to your corporate jobs?

    Not too bitter are you?

    By the way Ms. Brewer, as much as I can relate to your painful dealings with Dave, I take exception to being lumped into the same category as him in regards to his reaction to his corporate 'down-sizing'. I may have been upset, considering Dave had gotten a positive review and a small raise three weeks earlier, but I have no recollection of making phone calls or threats to the paper...other than to tell Greg Clark to 'kiss my ass'.

    Just curious, how did you and the others respond when it happened to you? Just sayin'.

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  6. Well, I quit because my husband got a better job elsewhere, so we were moving. It was a clean, easy break with no hard feelings afterward.

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  7. Lucky you :). Some of us made it out alive more than others...politics aside.

    Look at poor Doni. And Searchlight employees aren't the only ones who got the screw job.

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  8. Lucy,
    My thoughts are with you in this difficult time. I've been married 25 years and I disavow any responsibility for what my husband does or says. I wish the best of you and your children.
    Joanne Lobeski Snyder

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