It's just my third issue in the editor's chair, and already I have to put out fires in response to last week's cover story. Check out the letters section on page 3 for a taste of the trouble "Avenging Angels: A new kind of gang wants to keep your soul pure--by any means necessary" is causing. But whether you think Fraut Stub's imbedded journalism epic is a good read, a good joke or a good reason to declare BWihad, shoot me a note (that "a note" part is crucial). Despite how easy it is to submit comments online, I always prefer to catch hell directly from our readers' smoldering fingertips.
Now, on to the apologies. Suffice it to say, Fraut's reporting contained glaring inaccuracies, and his interviews, as far as we can tell, were grossly sensationalized. Rest assured, readers, he has been fired. However, as a side-note, if you or your loved ones, living or deceased, were forcibly baptized by anyone in the story or its accompanying pictures, I must insist that you seek spiritual attention at your earliest convenience. And when you find your healers, make sure they use the good holy water, not that crap they just waive a Bible over and hand out on college campuses.
Oh, and speaking of water, I'm pleased to report some breaking news: This weekend, while you were all gluing your scrapbooks and making your macaroni silhouettes, the Treasure Valley was home to a little bit of history. For one magical day, we were the temporary home of the largest, dirtiest puddle of water that has ever existed--ever. Dubbed "Lake Gerry Sweet's Hair," the oily loch filled most of the parking lot at the Western Idaho Fairgrounds and was first spotted by one of BW's hired goons, who was heading to the Fort Boise Gun Show to drink a few beers and stroke a few stocks. I confirmed its existence later in the day, and my socks are still damp.
Or maybe the only news is that they sell beer at gun shows. Isn't that fascinating? That BW news chopper is paying for itself.