And the rains came ...

(Update: After receiving some unsolicited legal advice, I have removed all references by name. From now forward, all references will be "Hard-On".)

For three days, we've had warm, sunny weather that seems to get supplanted by rolling thunderheads and lightning around the time I have to go into work. Good timing for boating, guess. We were hit by a deluge so thorougly drenching, I swear I heard Bill Cosby talking to god about cubits.
A drain on the paper's front lawn overflowed with the massive amount of water it was trying to handle, spilling it into the surrounding sod. Somehow, the water got under the grass, forming this two-foot high, 10-foot wide water blister that moved like it was alive. When it burst, it showered all these parked cars with sewage water. Classic days at the Courier.
Anyways, today I'm going to write about something I've been putting off for a while - the status of the sports editors position. (Scuse me a sec - I feel the blood boiling already .... gggaaaAAAAAAAHHAHHAHAH!!!)
k. I'm back. Sorry about that.
So, as most of you know, my sports editor, Russ, gave his notice about a month ago, heading off to Alberta so he could be closer to his family. And further away from his crazy ex-wife. This left a hole, which Doyle and I have been struggling to fill, doing twice our workload, and producing papers that look better than any before.
Neither of us really wanted to apply for the position, since it's only an extra 50 bucks a week, and means we have to deal a lot more closely with our idiot ME (managing editor). BUt we figured, it probably would make sense, since A.) we have relationships, knowledge and contacts in the local community; B.) We know what the fuck is going on here; C.) Were both talented and capable of doing the job; and D.) Our ME has shown he has no idea how to hire capable people. The Bliss section, which looks like a high school, no, Elementary-school produced newspaper, is a prime example. He hired a photographer, with no previous paper experience, to run, edit and layout the section. And he did this knowing full well she couldn't work past July.
So now we have this white elephant of a section, which was supposed to be our paper's saving grace, that looks like shit, and no one to run it in a month. Yeah! Good job, John. Way to go there...
Anyways, back to sports.
After both Doyle and I went through our interviews, we had the distinct impression he was going through the motions. In fact, he was almost dismissive in his haste to get through it. It lasted a whole 10 minutes, during which he tossed me such softballs as "What do you think of the new NHL?" What? WHAT? What kind of idiotic question is that?
So Doyle and I both pretty much figured he'd hired someone else. Not a big deal. I would have no problem with that, if he had hired an EDITOR from another METRO newspaper. Someone with experience, vision, and the talent to really allow this department to live up to its potential.
But, alas, no.
He hired another reporter from Thunder Bay - a community with no major junior sports, which make up the majority of our local sports coverage. And this guy's writing, from what I've seen, is about as inspired as the manual for my blender. It's pretty atrocious, actually.
It seems our ME's decision was not one based on logic, nor the maximizing of his available resources (me and doyle). It was personal. He just plain doesn't like us. I don't think he respects us, either.
And that's incredibly ironic, considering his reputation in the sports community here. I forgot to mention that he used to be sports editor here ... and he burned a lot - maybe all - of his bridges before he left. Mention his name in mixed company, and people actually start swearing. It's pretty funny, actually.
Quick anecdote: A few days after he was hired back as ME, and started making these incredibly short-sighted, arbitrary decisions based on nothing more than his magic eight-ball, me and doyle headed out to Sturgeon Hall - the local hockey sports pub. Some old guy came up to us and said, "so I hear you guys have a new ME down there. What's he like?"
Well, we teed off. We pulled no punches. We said exactly what we thought of his leadership ability, his talent, his competence, his reputation.
Then this guy says, "Well, I'm his father." Me n D-pot looked at each other, looked back at him, and said, "well, your son's a jackass."
And what's he say?
"Yeah, I knew that. You're absolutely right."
And this is coming from his own freaking faja!
Anyways, I feel very little loyalty to this paper, especially after the extra time we've been working, trying to keep our heads afloat. Doyle worked 14 days in a row when I went to LA, I pulled a bunch of extra shifts before I left, and we somehow managed to still produce the best sections EVER. And that's not just me blowing my own horn. It's the truth.
And our ol ME rewards us by saying "I think we need a breath of fresh air," and hires some chump out of TB. Now, he could turn out to be a great guy and great editor, but Hard-On's record just doesn't seem to warrant it.
Keeping an open mind is going to be tough. But I'll try - you've got my word on it.

Meanwhile, I'm counting down the days until me n the Dirty Mexican, D-pot, get our little project off the ground...

Meanwhile, here's something that made me laugh. A rarity these days..