Stodghill Says So

An opinionated posting on a variety of subjects by a former newspaper reporter and columnist whose daily column was named best in Indiana by UPI. The Blog title is that used in his high school sports predictions for the Muncie Evening Press.

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Location: Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio, United States

At the age of 18 I was a 4th Infantry Division rifleman in the invasion of Normandy, then later was called back for the Korean War. Put in a couple of years as a Pinkerton detective. Much of my life was spent as a newspaper reporter, sports writer and daily columnist. Published three books on high school sports in Ohio and Indiana. I write mystery fiction for Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine and others. Three books, Normandy 1944 - A Young Rifleman's War, The Hoosier Hot Shots, and From Devout Catholic to Communist Agitator are now available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other booksellers. So are four collections of short mysteries: Jack Eddy Stories Volumes 1 and 2, Midland Murders, and The Rough Old Stuff From Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine.

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Sunday, February 24, 2008

Ralph Nader - a publicity hound, a perpetual loser


What can be said about a man who insists on making a nuisance of himself? A man such as Ralph Nader, for example. For starters you can say he's a loser. Add publicity hound to the description and don't fail to include pathetic excuse for a human being. Spoiled brat should be in there too. It's easy to picture him interrupting adult business by jumping up and down while screaming, "Look at me, mommy, look at me."
A panel of politically savvy people were laughing at him on CNN today. Bill Schneider, a whiz with figures and at interpreting polls, pointed out that Nader got about 2.5 percent of the vote in 2000, fewer than half a million votes in 2004. Schneider believes the only people who will vote for him are those who otherwise wouldn't even bother going to the polls. Yet he insists on making a fool of himself by running for president again. Apparently he doesn't care if he's being laughed at just so long as he gets to amble out onto a news show once in a while looking like a confused derelict who can't find his way home.
Ignore him, that's what everyone should do. Fortunately most of us will.
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When the time comes for us to go to a pet store and pick out a new hamster, I get to name him. That's because Jackie has named our two most recent little friends, Zippy and Sophie.
So I'm naming him Ambrose. "No you're not," said Jackie. "If we have a hamster named Ambrose he will have to live in the office and you'll have to take care of him."
Taking care of a hamster means cleaning his cage, seeing that his food bowl is overflowing with stuff he likes to eat and his water bottle is always full. If you want to hear a real racket just listen to a hamster rattling the bars of his cage should he ever find his water bottle empty.
Then there is the job of seeing that he has a plentiful supply of paper for keeping his house nice and warm and never failing to supply him with a few special treats such as yogurt drops and sunflower seeds when he wakes up after a long day's sleep.
I'm too busy for that sort of thing, of course. But when it's a man's turn to name a hamster he should be able to call him anything he chooses to, including Ambrose. It would serve her right if every Ambrose in the world, and there must be a great many of them, sends her an email protesting this unjust ultimatum.

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