Smokey Mountain Breakdown

Oh. I think I’m going to get in trouble for this post. But sometimes, things just seem to burst forth and I can’t stop myself.

M’kay, Newport Plain Talk Pie Hole. I’ve been pretty gentle with them and genuinely admiring of the Police and Sheriff’s Department reportage. But the gloves sort of came off based on their head-up-their-asses non-coverage of the presidential election. You know. The little thing where we elected the U.S.’s first African American president and they decided it merited 400 words—not just below the fold but at the bottom of the page. They will never live that down, even if they make every day Black History Month.

So, the paper has been losing its integrity with a string of unpopular and sometimes nonsensical decisions, most notably ceasing printing the Sunday funny papers because the ink costs too much. (huh?) Then they changed the format to a long, skinny Barbie’s Dreamhouse size newspaper. I know what’s going on. The Pie Hole, like all newspapers around the nation is fighting for its life. But it being Newport and all, the panicked decisions just result in alienating more customers.

My alternate theory has to do with dementia.

This past Sunday’s paper was a hot tub of irony worth lolling in for a while. See, they arrested the Cocke County Superintendent of Highways in the Exxon station parking lot, drunk as a lord on Maker’s Mark. Good to know our tax dollars provide county employees a better class of whiskey. I’d have been offended if they’d found him drinking Old Granddad. It’s his second arrest involving the combination alcohol and highways. It’s widely known that job drives people over the edge. Something bad happened with the previous superintendent as well if I remember correctly.

I get to the editorial pages and find that they’ve given a column (and I use that term loosely since most of their “columns” are longer than my fiction--brevity isn't something they do well or maybe they are padding) complete with byline to some guy handing out really long Ted Kaczynski rants. The sort of thing we usually find on shady militia Internet web sites or the label of a Dr. Bronner’s Magic Soap All-One. An absolutely nonsensical, Looney Tunes, cuckoo-for-cocoa pops manifesto. All on gun control. Now, I love things that go boom as much as the next red-blooded American girl. I like guns because sometimes, you know, a girl needs to kill something or someone. Guns are real good at that. And I’m quite sure there are cogent, articulate arguments to be made in favor of the 2nd Amendment. THIS WAS NOT ONE OF THEM. In fact, a more eloquent argument for removing guns from the hands of the obviously addled could not have been made.

He’s going to inflict a “Darwinian Evolution” (Yeah, he wrote that just like the church lady! Swear to God!) rant on us next time. I can’t wait read about that—and how we’uns are going to hell if we don’t follow K-K-Kreashunism.

Am I canceling my subscription?

No. Hell, no. Not because I want to support the Pie Hole, but because I love a good train wreck.