As some of you already know, I’ve been invited to participate in a three-day brainstorming session at the ol’ AJC, and today is Day 2. I managed to squeeze off two posts during Monday afternoon’s proceedings, but that was just me being my juvenile-delinquent self. I’m thinking I shouldn’t press my luck from here on.
For one thing, Monday was mostly a review. Today we get serious, cogitation-wise. And that brings us to the other thing: Wednesday and Thursday we’ll be at Cox’s palatial corporate HQ, as opposed to the AJC building downtown. When you visit corporate, you tread softly and follow the rules.
So I, barring that long-simmering Braves trade — Greg Norton for Albert Pujols — will endeavor to stop posting and commenting long enough to do two more days’ worth of brainstorming. The trouble with that is, as bad as I am at posting and commenting, I’m worse at brainstorming.
I still haven’t been able to fathom why the Jethro Bodine of sports writing was picked for anything involving intelligence. Like Jethro, I’m from Appalachia. Like Jethro, my career goal has been to become a double-naught spy. Like Jethro, I’m renowned for my good looks. (OK, I’m lying about that one.) Like Jethro, I grad-gee-ated sixth grade. Like Jethro, my next good idea will be my first.
But I’m not worried so much about me: Us double-naught spies can handle ourselves. I’m worried about you, dear readers. I’m worried you’ll have forgotten me by the time I return to the three-posts-a-day norm come Friday. And I’d just hate that. I mean, it’d get mighty lonesome out by the cement pond without you folks for company. So y’all come back now, hear?