When you work in a newsroom, you field some pretty odd calls. But during my three decades at the Beacon Journal, I have never heard a voice mail quite like the one that was forwarded to me this week by a laughing metro editor.
The caller had a scoop, and she wanted us to write about it.
“This is [name withheld]. I’m a real-estate owner and I have published that I would help the poor with living requirements. I’m retired now, so I’m not doing it anymore. And plus, I’m a homicide victim. ...”
Tribe’s turn
Bob: Since the Browns have Hue and the Cavs have Lue, will the Tribe get anyone Nu?
Bob Oziomek
Stow
Bob: Only if he is hired as a player/manager. Then we could say, “Nu’s on first?”
Tracking the scent
The following email arrived after a column item about a vanity license plate that reads “RIP ONE.” The friend who spotted it quipped, “I hope the driver is a seamstress.”
Bob: I drive the blue Camry with license plate “RIP ONE” you mentioned in your Sunday column. Besides this claim to fame, I am also the head diving coach for the University of Akron.
I want to clarify the meaning of my license plate.
In the sport of diving, a clean or splashless entry is referred to as a “rip.” “Ripping one” simply refers to doing a well-performed dive.
I encourage my athletes to rip one every day. In fact, the more often they rip one, the better. Ripping one is a regular occurrence at our practices, and when they really rip one in a contest, the sweet smell of success permeates the natatorium.
I will not deny the flatulistic double-entendre created by my license plate. I just thought you might be interested in the true meaning of the expression.
Chris Medvedeff
(not a seamstress)
Chris: Thanks for clearing the air.
Blended stories
Bob: I enjoyed reading your diatribe about Johnny (aka Billy) Manziel. How long do you suppose this guy would have lasted playing for Vince Lombardi?
Anyhow, when I saw Johnny Football’s picture at the bottom of Page One, I thought you had identified the Kenmore Pooper. Oh well. I guess this will go down in the anals of Akron’s unsolved crimes.
G. K. Dailey
Mogadore
G. K.: The “anals?” Cute. A little disgusting, but cute.
Adding it up
This came in response to a note about an Ohio Lottery Commission phone recording that announced the Powerball jackpot as “thirteen hundred million dollars,” rather than “1.3 billion.”
Bob: Your recent bit on the way the Powerball jackpot was defined got me to thinking.
Back in the day, I actually used to write checks and put them in the mail. I didn’t give it a second thought when I was writing out my mortgage payment. I always wrote “Eleven Hundred Fifty” dollars rather than “One Thousand One Hundred Fifty” dollars. Seemed more efficient.
I don’t think the Ohio Lottery’s method is an indictment of our educational system or society in general. I would not complain one bit if the Lottery Commission wrote me a check for “Thirteen Hundred Million” dollars instead of “One Billion Three Hundred Million” dollars. I’m okay with the system as it is.
John Rettger
Hudson
John: I’m extremely disappointed that you aren’t willing to make a small personal sacrifice to take a stand against the deterioration of the English language.
Bob Dyer can be reached at 330-996-3580 or bdyer@thebeaconjournal.com. He also is on Facebook at www.facebook.com/bob.dyer.31.