“So I see by the TV yappers that your big mouth has got you in trouble again,” Slats Grobnik chortled.
That seems to be the general impression. But the entire affair seemed to be such a good idea at the time.
“What kind of idea?”
You didn’t detect my hidden motive?
“The only motive I know about is that you got a hot temper and a knack for getting people PO’d at you. But I guess it’s a living.”
Yes, and it is clear that my clever ruse fooled even you.
“What clever ruse?”
I’ll explain. As you know, I moved my family to Winnetka three years ago after my home was vandalized and my wife became concerned about safety.
“Yeah, wasn’t that when the gays from ACT-UP snuck around your house at night and plastered it with all those sticky signs calling you a Nazi or something.”
Right. They didn’t like my views on gays in the military, which were the same as Gen. Colin Powell’s, although they didn’t vandalize his home.
“By the way, did they ever apologize?”
No, I guess it slipped their minds. Anyway, after I had been in Winnetka a while, I became curious about the village police department. I wondered how well they could handle stress.
“What kind of stress?”
Well, a Rodney King overreaction, which could lead to a multimillion-dollar lawsuit and a big hike in my property tax.
“So?”
So when the opportunity arose six months ago, I decided to test their discipline and restraint under stress. I decided to call them names to see if they could be provoked.
“Uh-huh.”
At first, I thought about calling them `pigs,’ which has always been the way that certain groups referred to them.
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“Sure, my cousin the cop has been called a pig so many times that he can’t look at a ham sandwich.”
And I thought about calling them Nazis or fascists because I knew from experience that could hurt one’s feelings. But then I decided to go with some names that would indicate that I doubted their traditional masculinity.
“Uh-huh.”
So I put them to the test.
“Uh-huh. And how did they do?”
Quite well. Admirable restraint, although I had a stiff neck for a few days from an enthusiastic headlock.
“Uh-huh. And that’s your story? That you were just testing the cops? And you’re sticking with that yarn?”
You got a better one?
“Then why didn’t you explain that to the judge?”
Let me think. Ah, yes, I decided to test the judge too. I wanted to find out if I pleaded guilty to everything, expressed regret and remorse, and apologized to the police officers and everybody else involved if the judge would go soft and take it easy on a newspaper guy.
“Uh-huh, but the judge clobbered you, right?”
Right. He passed the test too. Stern but fair. Equal justice for all.
“So why didn’t you explain all this to the TV showboats who’ve been banging on your front door this week and sticking cameras in your kitchen window?”
What, and ruin the final test?
`You mean you were testing the media?”
But of course. I wanted to test their shallowness and, in some cases, their hypocrisy.
`What shallowness?”
Consider this. The incident happened about six months ago. And it wasn’t exactly public. I didn’t rent Orchestra Hall to say those things in a speech or go on prime-time TV or even say them in my column. It was between me and a few cops.
`So?”
So this. How did every news shop in town and some in New York and San Francisco suddenly get copies of a report that had been gathering dust all these months.
“What do the newsies say?”
That’s the point. Not one of them, except Tom Roeser, has said a single word about what public official decided to have his publicity agents drag out a six-month-old report and anonymously feed it to them. They don’t consider that part of the story, I guess. Too complicated for TV types.
“And what about hypocrisy.”
Ah, yes. Well, let us start with a columnist at that little paper who went on the radio and read from that leaked report. He is the same strapping fellow who was arrested for bravely beating up a female who spurned his affections. At least my cops could defend themselves.
“I don’t remember hearing about that.”
No, it seemed to escape media attention. And then there is the famous local anchorperson who thought six-month-old words were big news. He likes to poke his cameras into the private lives of others. But he has never seen the newsworthiness of his brother being sent to prison twice for sodomizing children. Or another brother having a fling as an embezzler.
“I don’t remember that either.”
Yes, some personal matters seem to excite the microphone crowd more than others. And there’s much more.
“Such as.”
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No, that’s enough. Let us take the high road.
“OK, but I’ll drive.”
Of course.