CALL ME SNAKE

Stop the presses. Or rather, start them. I will be published again! I have this on the highest authority. I submitted my “class notes” entry for the next issue of my (still unnamed) college alumni magazine and received email verification that my submission was received. Although I was not explicitly told that my update would be published, it’s part of an unspoken agreement we have: So long as I keep contributing to my alma mater, they will keep publishing my class notes, even though I have been getting long-winded (some critics say “flatulent”) of late. It’s true, I can’t restrict myself to the two to three lines allotted in the postcards they send, which is why I’ve found the electronic form, with attached PDF files, much more convenient. The good news is that so long as the quid pro quo is undisturbed and the dollars keep flowing (“follow the money, follow the money,” as Woodstein kept saying, ad nauseum, to the point of delirium), I have a regular writing “gig,” with my biannual entries coming out twice a year. I hope that last bit wasn’t redundant but I just wanted to call attention to the fact that I’m now virtually–or one step away at most–a “columnist,” something even Dave Barry can’t claim anymore. If anyone attacks me for that statement, and impugns my character, I will have to call them a calumnist. But I’d rather not get into name calling now on what is, by all counts (accounts?), the happiest of occasions.