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Oh Yeah? At Least My Dogs Like Me I Think

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Daniel Ruth

The Tampa Tribune

Published: October 12, 2008

This happens about as often as Pauly Shore wins Academy Awards for Best Actor, but one of you dear, beloved, loyal satisfied customers actually sorta defended this space the other day.

Where have I gone wrong?

Last Sunday's letters column included a comment from a pugnaciously peeved Pepper Pennington, the press peon for Florida Rep. Tom Feeney, R-Passport, who was purportedly perplexed over a column about her boss accepting a $20,000 golf junket to Scotland, courtesy of the now-imprisoned corrupt lobbyist Jack Abramoff.

Pepper Pennington had passed along a poison pen letter suggesting I led a miserable existence and was the shame of my family and colleagues. Perhaps, but at least my dogs seem to like me.

At any rate, Pepper Pennington's pejorative prompted Crimson13 to weigh in with: "Ms. Pennington feels sorry for YOUR miserable existence? Please Pepper, you are the one who is an apparatchik for a doofus that thinks he can get a trip to the most expensive golf course in the world and think he will not have to owe anyone.

"What is more pathetic than such a doofus, the stooge who works for him."

By the way, while it is true the Old Course at St. Andrews is fairly pricey, there are other golf courses, such as Pebble Beach in this country, which cost about the same as the $700 billion federal bailout package to gain entry to.

As well, drdneast also wrote about Pepper Pennington's pouty paean to her principal: "I remember the ol' he-coon, the late governor Lawton Chiles, who referred to Feeney as 'Feeney Halloweeney,' cause his views were scary."

She's All Hart

Another column on the decision by Eileen Hart to return her 1996 Moral Courage Award to the Hillsborough County Commission after five of the commissioners decided to rename it after their late Sugar Daddy, Ralph Hughes, prompted Swathsayer to write: "Bravo, once again to Ms. Hart.

"This was truly another act of Moral Courage, now let's see the moral courage of the rest of Hillsborough County by getting rid of this slimy, skeevy batch of commissioners who will sell their souls to the highest bidder."

Eileen Hart herself was kind enough to respond to the column, musing: "I just want to let you know that I appreciate your comments on my action to return the '----' Courage Award to the BOCC.

"The resulting response by you and many others re-enforces my original thought that I could not let this Keystone Kops Kaper go on without any reaction," Hart wrote, adding, "I think folks just like to know that there are others out there who also see things in our local politics as still hicktown, silly and unnecessary."

You are absolutely right, Ms. Hart, but let's not get too carried away here. It's those silly hicks who keep this column in clover.

Every Buddy Needs Some Buddy

On the subject of Hillsborough Supervisor of Elections Buddy Johnson blowing $99,000 on a self-promotional mailer to remind registered voters they were indeed registered voters and including an application for the already registered voters to register to vote, several readers weighed in, including one who praised the column.

We'll have none of that!

Another reader, whasup (I will never understand some of these nom de plumes), noted: "I don't mind the message, just the medium.

"Even if allmenriseup.com can find me via e-mail to try and sell me Viagra (ok, so what if I'm a woman) but Buddy Boy still has to send me slices of murdered trees..." whasup wrote. "If he's so proud of his technologically forward optical scan voting systems, maybe he should learn to use e-mail."

What ... A ... Dump!

Finally, an e-mailer named Harry responded to a column last week, which described Tropicana Field as the mother of all Major League Baseball park dumps.

"I can't understand why you call our Trop the bottom of the barrel of ballparks," Harry opined.

"Pros: Air Conditioned. No rain delays. No rolls of tarps for balls to get stuck in.

"No wind gusts. No late-day shadows. No unsafe wet conditions after a rain. No lightning. Good seating. No ivy covered walls to run into. No giant green walls just beyond shortstop. No recessed garage doors for balls to ricochet off. No seats on top of buildings across the street. More than 12 inches of foul territory. Good food. Good lighting.

"Ever been to Wrigley Field?"

All fine points, Harry, but it's still a dump.

And yes, I have been to Wrigley many, many, many times, where baseball is meant to be played. It's the Vatican of West Addison Street.

Keyword: Book of Ruth, to read and comment on Daniel Ruth's blog. Or tune into NewsTalk 820 AM Sundays from 1 to 3 p.m. to listen to his radio show.

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