The Red Menace Redux

Curve ball.

Sucker-punch.

New wrinkle.

Wrench in the gears.

After ten years of writing a weekly column for the local paper on whatever came to mind, and building -- if I may be allowed to brag a little -- a nice following of fans, I have been given a new demand, by a new editor, J. Dzhugashvili I think they said is his name.

Every column henceforth must have a specific, local focus.

What?

If I were the artistic type, I would throw up my hands angry-French-chef style and figuratively stomp out of the kitchen. But I need the money, and will cravenly, if sullenly, attempt to comply.

Damnable Soviet wannabees, demanding that my art serve the good of the state!

Perhaps I shall write my columns as always but throw in a gratuitous, awkward and obvious reference at the end that has no real connection to the rest of the column – like the porno mag editors who slide in a page about classic cars to avoid their work being classed as of no redeeming social value.

Perhaps I shall write a column about how stupid and leftist this new demand is.
No, I won’t. I need the damned money too much.