Larry Franklin's blog

By Brian Whitmore

Today we celebrate the 242nd birthday of the United States.

If we want to be around another 200 years, we better find a way to get along.

What ever happened to compromise and middle ground?

Why is everything black or white, with no gray?

Why can’t we put ourselves in the other person’s shoes?

Where is the tolerance? Why, if someone disagrees with us, we deem them ignorant?

Why has extremism taken over?

We interrupt our not-regularly-scheduled retirement update to ask you this: which part of freedom (be it expression, speech, assembly) do you freaking not understand?
Oh. And by the way, your president is a complete idiot. Nope. Take that back. He’s an evil genius. He is a mastermind in changing the narrative away from what a complete and total flop he is to those horrible SOBs in the NFL.

Faithful readers are not surprised that I’m taking this opportunity – the next to last Corner ever – to profess my love of a woman who means so much to me.
She is the wind beneath my wings. The gas in my engine. The cheese to my smile. The peanut butter to my jelly.
It also won’t surprise faithful readers that I’m not writing about The First Wife/My Current Wife, who was covered in a previous column in the Larry Farwell Tour.
This piece is about the great woman in the world. The Queen. Not Freddie Mercury’s group. THE Queen. Elizabeth II.

Many things have changed since I came to work here in 1974. Many people have come and gone. A constant through it all has been the unwavering support of My First Wife and My Current Wife. In support of full disclosure, “they” are the same woman.
Janice and I married in 1971. I was a student at USC. Had we not married, I’d still be a student at USC. After I said “I do,” I found I really meant “I don’t” have as much desire to play pool and go to movies.

Let’s take a break from the Larry Franklin Farewell Tour to talk about a couple matters of much greater import.
I know that President Trump and Rep. Jeff Duncan and Bill O’Reilly have a lot of important things to….hold on, I’m getting a message in my earpiece. Oh. Well. No surprise there.
I know that President Trump and Rep. Jeff Duncan and Tucker Carlson have a lot of important things to take care of.

There have been occasions the past 43 years when I have written the “memorial” column about someone who has died.
I don’t understand why some people refer to dying as passing and to the person who died as having passed.
The Google says referring to death as passing away comes from Judiasm.
We say cows die. We say dogs die. But Uncle Fred passes away.
I refuse to use the euphemism. If someone has died, I say they died.
There are other, more colorful ways to refer to death, of course. Kick the bucket. Cash in the chips. Buy the farm.

On today’s stroll down memory lane, we’ll take a look at the dirty underside of the newspaper business. Let’s call it crimes and those who commit them.
I’d not been here long before I learned that, as a reporter, part of my job was to report crimes, suspected crimes, alleged crimes and things that might be crimes. I’d have to talk to the police, the criminals, attorneys and (rarely) judges.