Just Looking For The Vig


Back to the usual column of this and that this week. I find, as I mentioned last time, that writing a column like this really does become a matter of a pocket full of notes (a headline the late great Herb Caen used to use over his column once in a while). As I sit to write, I face pages from Reporter's Notebook, e-mail I have sent myself (and received from you out there), articles torn from the newspaper and various scraps of paper. My memory is poor, so when inspiration strikes I try to preserve it on paper so I can share it with you.

By they way, either no one read my offer of Emily Dickinson, Jerk of Amherst, or no one was tempted by it, because I received exactly zero requests for it. Oh well, I thought it was funny.


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