Try­ing to find the pos­i­tives in this world can be a neg­a­tive

The Covington News - - OPINION - DICK YAR­BROUGH COLUM­NIST You can reach Dick Yar­brough at yarb2400@ bell­south.net; at P.O. Box 725373, At­lanta, Ge­or­gia 31139; on­line at dick­yarbrough.com or on Face­book at Face­book.com/dick­yarb.

The Woman Who Shares My Name in­structed me that this week’s col­umn was to be about pos­i­tive things. She says she is tired of bad news and thought you felt the same way. “Surely, you can find some pos­i­tive things to write about,” she said, “and tem­po­rar­ily take peo­ple’s minds off all the ter­ri­ble things go­ing on in the world. I think your read­ers would ap­pre­ci­ate that.”

I thanked her for her sug­ges­tions and said I would give them se­ri­ous con­sid­er­a­tion some­time in the fu­ture. How­ever, I said, my loyal read­ers are ea­gerly await­ing my in-depth anal­y­sis of cur­rent events be­cause I know a lot about a lot of stuff. Plus, there is the fact that no one can tell me what to write. I hinted strongly that she may have missed class the day we talked about the U.S. Con­sti­tu­tion, in­clud­ing the First Amend­ment and the guar­an­tee of my right of free ex­pres­sion.

She thanked me for re­mind­ing her once again how smart I am and hinted strongly that I may have missed the part in the wed­ding cer­e­mony where the min­is­ter talked about not lec­tur­ing her on the U. S. Con­sti­tu­tion — I truly don’t re­mem­ber that — and that she was a mem­ber of the high school Honor So­ci­ety and I wasn’t and if I didn’t do what she said, she would be more than will­ing to tell every­body I didn’t learn to tie my shoes un­til my se­nior year. She’s good.

I told her now that she had given me some bet­ter in­sight into her think­ing, I felt cer­tain we could work some­thing out and won­dered if she has some thoughts to share on what she deemed to be pos­i­tive news. For ex­am­ple, I con­sider get­ting a rise out of the hu­mor-im­paired as a pos­i­tive. I know I pos­i­tively en­joy jerk­ing their chains.

I’m not ex­actly sure who has less of a sense of hu­mor — lib­eral wee­nies who see noth­ing wrong with any­body cross­ing our bor­ders when­ever they choose, even if it in­cludes your oc­ca­sional ter­ror­ist; or Bi­ble thumpers who be­lieve tot­ing a gun to church is the Christian thing to do. But I am pos­i­tive that I will hear from some of them.

She said that wasn’t ex­actly what she had in mind. She said maybe I could write some­thing about an­i­mals. Every­body loves to read about an­i­mals. I told her that I love an­i­mals, too, es­pe­cially coy­otes be­cause given half a chance they will eat yappy lit­tle bugeyed dogs that bark all the time. I thought that was a pos­i­tive thing. She said to keep go­ing.

I told her I had read that kudzu is head­ing north and had got­ten as far as Ohio and had even made it across the Great Lakes to Canada. I con­sider this pos­i­tive news on sev­eral lev­els. We sure don’t need any more kudzu around here, so why not share it with our friends north of the Ma­son-Dixon Line? This way they won’t have to look at all their empty rusted build­ings in the two months when it is not snow­ing there be­cause they will be cov­ered in kudzu. That will then give lo­cals more time to rush to the li­brary and check out a book en­ti­tled, “The Best of North­ern Cui­sine.” It’s an easy read. Less than a page. The look she gave me was not very pos­i­tive.

Mov­ing right along, I told her that I was pos­i­tive that the City of At­lanta, aka, Malfunction Junc­tion, was the only city in Amer­ica with a Wa­ter Depart­ment that just dis­cov­ered it was miss­ing an $80,000 road scraper and 10,000 wa­ter me­ters. Ever try to steal a road-scrap­ing ma­chine or stick 10,000 wa­ter me­ters down your britches and not rouse sus­pi­cion? That’s not as easy as somebody made it look. Only in At­lanta.

I could tell by now that the Woman Who Shares My Name re­gret­ted ever hav­ing brought up the idea. She re­luc­tantly agreed that per­haps we should stick to what we each do best. There­fore, I will con­tinue to write snarky col­umns and she will con­tinue to try and trick me into eat­ing broc­coli.

I’m glad I can get back to what I do best. If I was all sweet­ness-and-light, I might not get reader re­sponses like one re­cently that said, “Can’t be­lieve you felt the need to waste your, and there­fore my, time on your col­umn to­day. What a pompous (fill in the blank) you are!” C’mon. You wouldn’t want me any other way. Of that, I am pos­i­tive.

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