My feelings are hurt. An astute political observer named Larry wrote me, gloating over Barack Obama's election and pointing out what a racist I am. He cited as proof the column in which I stated gasoline would rise to $6 a gallon before this country would elect a black man as president.
The problem is I didn't write that column. That's what hurts.
Here I am thinking the world hangs on my every adverb, and this guy doesn't know me from Elmer Fudd. I asked Larry for a copy of the column I didn't write to see what I didn't say, but he said he didn't have time to look it up. He was too busy. I wanted to ask Larry, if he was that busy, how he found time to compose two long and rambling diatribes, but that would really have wigged him out.
This has been one of the worst U.S. Senate races I ever remember by any yardstick imaginable, including the inane, obnoxious, overstated, offensive television ads being run by both candidates. Republican Sen. Saxby Chambliss is perceived as being too close to the policies of George W. Bush. Challenger Jim Martin, an Atlanta Democrat, all but admits he will be an Obama follower if elected. Is anybody interested in representing the people of the state and going against the grain when necessary? Where is Zell Miller when we need him?
Georgia House Speaker Glenn Richardson, R-Hiram, seems to have survived a palace coup to boot him out of the speaker's chair. As a result, the outspoken Richardson has promised that, in the future, he won't always say what he is thinking. I assume that means if he still plans to build his dream house on accreted land on St. Simons Island, he will no longer tell the rest of us to stick it in our ear if we don't like it - even if that is what he is thinking.
Yankees don't know what potlikker is, so I doubt they know that the first Thanksgiving wasn't celebrated in Plymouth, Mass., in 1621. It was in Berkeley Hundred, Va., on December 4, 1619 - while the snooty Pilgrims were still floating around the Atlantic Ocean, trying to find some place in America where it snows ten months a year. This news flash comes courtesy of the Southern Party of Georgia. No word on whether potlikker was served.
I hate to tell you this, but our governor is still missing. When my friend and colleague Dale Russell, of Fox 5 Atlanta, reported that State Department of Transportation Commissioner Gena Evans had written sexually explicit e-mails on company time and on a company computer and had dated men doing business with the department, acting Gov. Bert Brantley was quoted as saying, "We would never look at a news report and assume that everything in it is correct." AG Brantley didn't say what part of Russell's report wasn't correct. Gov. Perdue was not available to comment. He is thought to be in Belgium, trying to buy a waffle factory.
I was honored recently to be named a Fellow of my beloved Grady College of Journalism and Mass Communications at the University of Georgia, along with a group of distinguished alumni from around the country. My thanks to Dean Cully Clark for including me with such an outstanding group of professionals. When I learned of my selection, I informed the Woman Who Shares My Name that this meant I could no longer be served broccoli without my written consent. It didn't work.
Finally, it has been a little more than two months since we lost our 21-year-old grandson Zack Wansley, who died while training for the upcoming Thanksgiving Day marathon in Atlanta. The outpouring of support from across the state has been overwhelming and has helped us cope during these difficult days.
But you need to know there is another set of grieving grandparents who hurt as much as we do. Their names are Jerry and Marie Wansley. Please remember them, too.
E-mail columnist Dick Yarbrough at firstname.lastname@example.org.