Reporting on where those 39,000 words went this year
As we end one year and begin a new one, that means it is time for the annual report required of all card-carrying members of the National Association of Modest- Yet-Much-Beloved Columnists. Our motto: Sometimes in error, never in doubt. The report is required. Otherwise, I might lose my credentials and have to get a real job. The very thought of that keeps me awake at night.
In this past year, I have written approximately 39,000 words, including a bunch of nouns and verbs, some adverbs, a few adjectives and a lot of commas – many where they didn’t belong – and for good measure a sprinkling of appositive phrases and subordinating dependent clauses to keep you on your toes. From my mail, you seem to have read most of them.
One of the challenges of being a modest-yet-much-beloved columnist is getting my fingers and my brain to cooperate with me. I have not always been successful. I recently wrote about Attorney General Chris Carr’s campaign for the Republican nomination for governor in 2026. All was going well until the last paragraph when my brain got to thinking about currency fluctuations of the Ghanian Cedi against the U.S. Dollar. Seizing the opportunity, my fingers decided to change Carr to Clark.
Running for governor is hard enough without having someone screw things up. Chris Carr is attorney general and he is running for governor. Write that down. My fingers apologize and I’m trying to figure out why my brain was even thinking about the Ghana Cedi. To my knowledge, it isn’t planning a trip to Ghana anytime soon, although I am sure there are those who would like my brain and fingers go and to take the rest of me along with them.
As smooth and easy as I make all this stuff look, I could not accomplish these feats of journalistic legerdemain without help. Let me start with the humor impaired. The humor impaired are rife with political zealots. If I posit there is the possibility that the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog’s back, immediately chardonnay-sipping liberals accuse me of being a redneck Neanderthal. RITNOs (Republicans in Trump’s Name Only) see this as further irrefutable proof that I am a – gasp! – Dim. I’m not sure what a Dim is but I think it means a – gasp! – Democrat. In fact, I am both. Sorta.
I have two Democrat heroes: Harry Truman and former Georgia governor Carl Sanders; and two Republican heroes: Ronald Reagan and the late U.S. Sen. Johnny Isakson. In my not-so-humble opinion, current chardonnay sippers and the trash-talking RITNOs are poor substitutes, but they are sure fun to write about.
And let me not forget those Baptists who concede that while women can run Fortune 500 companies like General Motors and UPS and be U.S. senators (26) or be governors of their state (13), they can’t be preachers because of something St. Paul wrote roughly 2,000 years ago saying that men should teach in public settings, while women “should learn quietly and not exercise authority over men.”
Yeah, right. Tell that to the authoritarian women in the Yarbrough clan and you are inviting a frying pan upside the head. Also, we Methodists ignored Paul’s sexist comments and have been rewarded with some excellent female preachers. Baptists are welcome to visit and see what they are missing.
A good deal of time and attention this past year was devoted to examining what seems to be a matter of grave concern among our state’s elected officials, bureaucrats, timber barons and assorted chemical companies – the prospects of running out of toothpaste whitener. I don’t even want to think about it.
The good news: There is titanium dioxide available to be mined from which to make toothpaste whitener and ensure our teeth will always be sunshine bright. The not-so-good news: the stuff seems to be located in and around our Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge. And more not-sogood news (for the pro-drilling crowd): you have made such a public fuss, efforts have been stymied. But I have the feeling this will be a topic of discussion again next year. Don’t expect our state’s elected officials, bureaucrats, timber barons and assorted chemical companies to give up easily. There is too much money involved.
This, dear reader, concludes my report. (Hold your applause, please.) If approved, I look forward to continuing our weekly conversations. That assumes, of course, I can get my brain and fingers to work together as a team. Happy New Year.
You can reach Dick Yarbrough at dick@dickyarbrough.com or at P.O. Box 725373, Atlanta, Georgia 31139.
