I’m going to buy Newsday. I’m not above taking Rupert Murdoch’s sloppy seconds, and like the paper itself, I’m the sixth largest man in the region. It’s a big investment, I know. But I’ve been saving up, and the pink ceramic swine in which I’ve been keeping loose change since the early 60s is so heavy I can barely lift it.
Why do I care so much? A few reasons. You may not know this, but Newsday was founded by a woman with my last name — Alicia Patterson (she spells it the wrong way, of course). So I’ve always had a special place in my heart for this particular publication. But the real reason Newsday means so much to me is … the word jumble.
OOOH. Word jumble. The very sound of those three syllables sends chills of excitement down my spine. I can’t let it die. I mean, A LECAT DINTET. It’s how I get my day going, it’s how I relax, it’s how I keep my mind sharp when I’m trapped in Albany. You’re probably asking yourself how a legally blind man can even DO the word jumble. It’s actually not as complicated as it sounds – my lovely assistant reads the printed letters to me and I de-jumblify in my head. O KIRC!
So as you can ESE, there is no way in LEHL I can let my beloved Newsday fall into the wrong SPAW.
Tags: David Paterson, Governor, humor, Murdoch, New York, Newsday
