Of everything I’ve done in my celebrated 16-year career here at The Evening Sun, nothing has garnered me more fame and glory than the comments that I occasionally intersperse in ‘30 Seconds.’

Sad, but true.

Very early on in the cultural phenomenon which is ‘30 Seconds,’ I decided that while the whole idea for it was to be a reader response line, I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut. So, when the sheer stupidity of a certain call moved me to break my silence, I’d chime in with a comment of my own – in bold italics, and signed with a simple “Ed.”

It wasn’t long, of course, before Ed.’s pithy retorts became an integral, and anticipated, part of ‘30 Seconds’ lore. Pretty much every time I shot back in print, level-headed people would encourage me to do more of it. Well, those people who recognized that “Ed.” and I were one and the same … I have a feeling that most ‘30 Seconds’ readers think there’s some guy here named Ed making fun of them.

Either way, it works for me.

When “30 Seconds” spread via this site to the rest of the universe, it took on a new life of its own, another permutation of the virus. But something was missing – the fetid ramblings were unchecked by Ed.’s rapier-sharp wit.

So, this week, Ed. makes his debut in the online version of “30 Seconds.” And the fun never ends here at evesun.com ….

“Progress may have been all right once, but it has gone on too long.”
– Ogden Nash

Oh, the things that amuse me when I’m stuck at the office after 11 on a Saturday night. Yes, friends and neighbors, it’s time once again for that little special section we like to call “Progress Chenango.”

The 2007 edition will start appearing in your Evening Sun with the first two sections in Monday’s edition. Progress, for the uninitiated, is our annual comprehensive review of the business and community organization climate in Chenango County. It is a Herculean task, requiring stellar efforts on the part of our editorial, advertising and press room staffs. It is undeniably our biggest undertaking of the year, and arguably our best. Many newspapers publish similar “Progress” sections annually, but I’d stack ours up among the best in the state.

That said, it is also a tremendous pain in the ass.

I say that with love, of course.

Anyone who’s ever been anywhere near me during the last two weeks in January for the past decade or so knows just what a bear I become during this project. While the sales staff and my reporters spend the first part of the month soliciting ads and gathering stories, my own personal hell doesn’t begin until theirs is over.

There not being enough hours in the regular work day to put out what is essentially another edition a day for an entire week, I accomplish most of my Progress editing and layout tasks at night – and sometimes into the wee hours of the morning.

Some casual observations after spending the last 48 hours chained to this desk:

1. I should never drink coffee past 8 p.m.

2. I should not try to compensate for drinking coffee past 8 p.m. by taking anything called “Simply Sleep” when I get home. It is definitely not that simple.

3. Pat Newell seriously needs to clean up his cubicle.

4. I should crank the heat up to 75 here more often.

5. Lackawanna Avenue is not a pleasant neighborhood at midnight. Lots of people must walk to and from Beadle’s. Drunk, both ways.

6. One of them left a crockpot in a plastic bag right outside our office door. Perhaps it’s some sort of message.

7. Before I get too loopy from a serious lack of sleep and an overdose of Snickers and Crackerjacks, I think I’ll wrap this up …

Being largely alone in the office at night toiling away on Progress not only allows me to revel in my own martyrdom, it also allows me to reflect on the state of affairs at the newspaper, and dream up new ways to entertain and inform my readers and torture my staff.

So please, enjoy the fruits of our labors as Progress Chenango 2007 rolls off the presses this week, and then look forward to some hopefully exciting upcoming changes in The Evening Sun as we ‘progress’ into the new year.

Tags: Ogden Nash, Progress Chenango, Evening Sun, Chenango County

I’d never fire someone for disagreeing with me, of course. But Mr. McGuire’s pushing it.

‘American Idol’ is a really good show.

Yes, I too resisted its charms for the first few seasons. When everyone was talking about Kelly, Justin, Clay, Reuben, Fantasia, Bo, et. al, I was curiously mute. Quickly, I’d try to divert attention to the aforementioned “Apprentice,” but it didn’t always work. I lived in fear that I’d be found out eventually. I was an ‘Idol’ virgin.

Then, last season, the compulsion to be In the Know overtook me. No self-respecting student of pop culture like myself could resist a phenomenon that had so entrenched itself in the modern lexicon. I had to tune in and spend 56 hours with Simon, Randy, Paula and Ryan. I would worship at the altar of ‘Idol.’

Simply by signing over a few precious days of my lifespan to the Fox network and its proud advertisers (I even went out and bought myself a Ford!), I was instantly plugged in to the nation-sweeping drama. I could chime in when someone talked about how Mandisa gave Simon what he deserved. I could nod in agreement when another said how dreamy Ace was. When someone said “Chicken Little,” I got the joke. I considered renaming my cat “Bucky Covington,” just because it flowed so swimmingly off the tongue.

So hold out if you can, Michael. If you’re content with not being One of Us, be my guest. Go ahead and read your books and newspapers and discuss ‘issues’ with your ‘friends.’ Resist the strains of ‘Since U Been Gone’ and listen to your ‘music’ instead. You may call it rugged individualism; I just call it being a loser.

Not The Biggest Loser, of course. That’s on another network.

As much of a caricature as he is, I’ve still got to admire a man like Donald Trump. His bizarre feud with Rosie and Barbara notwithstanding, I’ve always respected Trump’s awareness of his own tremendous ego, and the unabashed honesty which it engenders.

I’ll confess here to being a longtime fan of Trump’s network TV job interview, “The Apprentice.” It’s high on kitsch of course, but I can’t help but marvel at his business savvy, and the way in which he dismisses his hopeful job candidates …

“You’re fired!”

It’s become a popular catchphrase, but it’s not one you’ll hear in Chenango County – at least not on the record. You see, in the land of political correctness that we’ve apparently acquiesced into, no one in Chenango County gets fired anymore. At least from a public position.

They’re “dismissed.” Sometimes “let go.” Often they leave “for personal reasons” or to “pursue other opportunities.” It’s almost always a “mutual decision.” Once in a while it’s even a “parting of the ways” or a “change in direction.” But no one is ever, ever “fired.”

The few times I’ve dared to use that nasty word in the paper regarding a public official, I’ve been chastised for it, usually by the person who did the ax-lowering, sometimes by the person who got the ax.

Years ago, I got into a spat with a P&G public relations hack who insisted that a score of employees weren’t “fired.” No, it seems the people who lost their jobs were “involuntarily separated.” Lord love a duck.

Just recently, when the Chamber’s CEO was “let go,” I erred on the side of caution and did not use the word “fired” in the newspaper. Instead, a subhead said “ousted.” I’ve since been informed that “ousted” is also a nasty word. I can’t win.

I don’t know when we became afraid to call a spade a spade. Or when we started calling inmates “consumers,” for that matter. All I know is, I’m all for Donald Trump and his refreshing bluntness. A couple years back, an employee of mine who saw the writing on the wall said during our final closed-door meeting, “You’re letting me go, aren’t you?” “No,” I said. “I’m firing you.”

And it felt good.

Not a big fan of Halloween, I’ll admit that. But lest the Grinch in me take over completely, I consented to dispense the obligatory candy on trick-or-treat night in the fair City of Norwich.

Largely, the kiddies and adults who came by were a cordial group, staging the perfunctory ritual (basically extortion with costumes) with grace and mirth.

But then …

Seriously, kids, an essential component to the trick-or-treat custom is actually saying “trick or treat.” I was surprised by how many of the little urchins simply thrust their bags in my face and never uttered a word.

Oh yeah, and I’m not buying the “This is for Susie back home” scam with two bags. One kid, one handful of candy. Nice try.

Lastly, I’d offer one more piece of advice for successful trick-or-treating. Wear a $&^#! costume! If you’re old enough to be cool with going door to door begging for candy wearing what you wore to school that day, you’re too freakin’ old to go trick-or-treating. Only the fear of retaliation with the aforementioned “trick” kept me from giving these little miscreants what Charlie Brown always got … a rock.

Astute evesun.com readers have no doubt noticed by now that we made a little change to the submission form on our online “30 Seconds” page this week.

When we went online with the new website this summer, it seemed logical to provide a text field for the comments, a little button to check “man” or “woman” and then a field to type in the town you’re from, following the conventions of the print edition of the column which made “Man from Norwich” part of the Chenango lexicon a decade ago.

Oh, but you Internet users are too clever for us! Instead of typing in your town, you quickly figured out that you could type anything you wanted in that little box! Like “Dear Abby” on crack, “Woman from Oxford” quickly devolved into “Woman from Time for a Change,” “Man from Mars,” “Man from Time for a New Topic,” “Woman from Getalongville,” “Woman from Merriam & Webster” … well, you get the point.

So now, we’ve given you a drop-down menu to choose your local hometown, or “Outside Chenango County.” This will force you to be clever within the message itself. So there.

And who the $&^% is Missy?

The weeks leading up to the November election are almost like Christmas morning in Chenango County, as the money starts falling out of the trees it grows on – in Albany, anyway. Even though the old hometown fared rather poorly when they rolled out the pork barrel this year, it’s a safe bet that a few of our favorite politicos will shake loose a dollar or two shortly before the polls open.

It’s also the time of year when we at the newspaper get called upon to attend these “press conferences” and take the dreaded check-passing photo. While I’m certainly happy, usually anyway, for the recipients of the much-needed manna from heaven, I can’t help feeling like a whore, used as a pawn in the re-election chess game and then discarded like yesterday’s news.

Pardon me; it’s late and my metaphors are mixing.

Self-centered journalist that I am, I often measure politicians by the frequency with which they visit me … the mountain coming to Mohammed, as it were. Our current group of incumbents have a pretty good track record when it comes to being responsive to the needs of the press via phone, but I’ll cast objectivity aside (since he’s getting out of the game anyway) for a moment and tell you the only politician who, in my 16 years at the paper, was a regular in-person visitor – Congressman Sherwood Boehlert. While I’ve had that slimy feeling after covering a lot of other public officials’ “news,” I’ve never once doubted the sincerity of Sherry Boehlert. Not only was he attentive to the needs of his constituency, but I also never felt used or manipulated by his frequent visits to our offices. He kept us informed, not to sway public opinion or buy our good press, but because he felt as accountable to us as he did to Mr. CEO and Joe Sixpack. He is a rare breed – a career politician who rose through the ranks but never lost sight of the needs and concerns of the people who put him in office. Whoever takes his place in Washington has enormous shoes to fill.

Patty Larkin has just left the stage, bringing to a close Colorscape Chenango 2006. (She was great, but I’m still partial to The Kennedys, Pete & Maura, as my all-time Colorscape faves).

All in all, it was another successful weekend filled with all the sights and sounds that make this such a magical time of year. Reconnecting with old friends and sharing in the spirit of community which overtakes East and West parks in downtown Norwich is really what Colorscape’s all about, and this weekend had that in spades.

We at The Evening Sun had a fun time playing with new technology, bringing our web audience live updates of Frank Speziale’s photos, selected video clips of the performing artists and of course this rolling blog. It was our first foray, really, into using the website to expand our coverage beyond the printed page, and I dare say it was success. Hopefully it’s just a taste of things to come as we shift from thinking of ourselves as solely a newspaper publisher and more into being an information services provider. Many thanks to our “web guy” Craig Ballinger (and Allnet Networking, who provided the wifi Internet access) for making the technical end of things possible, and to my trusty staff, Melissa deCordova, Jill Osterhout, Jessica Lewis (and Benjamin!) and Tyler Murphy for manning the booth alongside yours truly. It was a fun weekend.

Now, what will we come up with for the Pumpkin Festival?

One of the joys of sitting at our Colorscape booth all weekend (besides the music, art and food, of course), is that the friendly folk of Norwich are always full of ideas for the paper.

So far I’ve been told we should do a story about how people ignore the handicapped parking rules (not unique to Colorscape weekend, but certainly more prevalent), about how the county maintenance crew dug up a high-traffic area of West Side Park days before Colorscape (brilliant planning), and about probably 20 different areas in the county where there’s a bad intersection, a section of road that still hasn’t been repaired since the June flood, or where traffic laws seemingly don’t exist (or at least aren’t enforced).

The sun is just about ready to set on Day 1 of Colorscape 2006, and West Side Park is rockin’ with the sounds of … yodeling. If you’ve seen Gandalf Murphy and the Slambovian Circus of Dreams before, you’ll know that’s not nearly as torturous as it sounds. These guys are simply amazing, and a refreshing change of pace from the rest of the afternoon’s offerings.

It’s just about time to call it a day, and I’ve got to admit that my constant facade of pep is beginning to fade. It’s exhausting work being friendly all day … after eight hours of manning the Colorscape booth, I have a pretty good idea of what it must feel like to run for office. Speaking of which, the Democrats were out in full force today … I had a nice chat with Beth Garry, Mark Trabucco and Kelly Keck, candidates for Justice, Senate and Assembly. Nary a Republican candidate to be seen (at least at The Evening Sun booth). Hmmmm …

Kudos to all involved in pulling of what I’d say was a very successful 50% of Colorscape so far. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for tomorrow.