As we end one year to begin a new one, it means it’s time for the annual report required of all card-carrying members of the National Association of Modest-Yet-Much-Beloved Columnists. Our motto?
Sometimes in error, never in doubt.
The report is required; otherwise, I might lose my credentials and have to get a real job. The very thought of that keeps me awake at night.
In this past year, I have written approximately 39,000 words, including a bunch of nouns and verbs, some adverbs, a few adjectives, and a lot of commas — many where they didn’t belong — and for good measure a sprinkling of appositive phrases and subordinating dependent clauses to keep you on your toes. From my mail, you seem to have read most of them.
One of the challenges of being a modest-yetmuch- beloved columnist is getting my fingers and brain to cooperate with me. I have not always been successful. I recently wrote about Attorney General Chris Carr’s campaign for the Republican nomination for governor in 2026.
All was going well until the last paragraph when my brain got to thinking about currency fluctuations of the Ghanian Cedi against the U.S. Dollar. Seizing the opportunity, my fingers decided to change Carr to Clark.
Running for governor is hard enough without having someone screw things up. Chris Carr is attorney general, and he is running for governor.
Write that down. My fingers apologize and I’m trying to figure out why my brain was even thinking about the Ghana Cedi.
To my knowledge, it isn’t planning a trip to Ghana anytime soon, although I am sure there are those who would like my brain and fingers to go and take the rest of me along with them.
As smooth and easy as I make all this stuff look, I could not accomplish these feats of journalistic legerdemain without help. Let me start with the humor impaired. The humor impaired are rife with political zealots. If I posit there is a possibility of the quick brown fox jumping over the lazy dog’s back, immediately chardonnay- sipping liberals accuse me of being a redneck Neanderthal. Meanwhile, RITNOs (Republicans in Trump’s Name Only) see this only as further irrefutable proof that I am a — gasp! — Dim. I’m not sure what a “Dim” is but I think it means a — gasp again!
— Democrat.
In fact, I am both. Sorta.
I have two Democrat heroes: Harry Truman and former Georgia Governor Carl Sanders; and two Republican heroes: Ronald Reagan and the late U.S.
Sen. Johnny Isakson. In my not-so-humble opinion, current chardonnay sippers and trash-talking RITNOs are poor substitutes, but they sure are fun to write about.
And let me not forget those Baptists who concede that while women can run Fortune 500 companies like General Motors and UPS and be U.S. senators (26) or be governors of their state (13); they can’t be preachers because of something St. Paul wrote roughly 2,000 years ago saying that men should teach in public settings, while women “should learn quietly and not exercise authority over men.”
Yeah, right. Tell that to the authoritarian women in the Yarbrough clan and you are inviting a frying pan upside the head. Also, we Methodists ignored Paul’s sexist comments and have been rewarded with some excellent female preachers. Baptists are welcome to visit and see what they’re missing.
A good deal of time and attention this past year was devoted to examining what seems to be a matter of grave concern among our state’s elected officials, bureaucrats, timber barons, and assorted chemical companies — the prospects of running out of toothpaste whitener. I don’t even want to think about it.
The good news: there is titanium dioxide available to be mined from which to make toothpaste whitener and ensure our teeth will always be sunshine bright. The not-so-good news: the stuff seems to be located in and around our Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge.
And more not-so-good news (for the pro-drilling crowd): you have made such a public fuss that current efforts have been stymied. But I have a feeling this will be a topic of discussion again next year. Don’t expect our state’s elected officials, bureaucrats, timber barons, and assorted chemical companies to give up so easily. There is too much money involved.
This, dear reader, concludes my annual report. (Hold your applause, please.) If approved, I look forward to continuing our weekly conversations. That assumes, of course, I can get my brain and fingers to work together as a team.
And Happy New Year.
You can reach Dick Yarbrough at dick@dickyarbrough.com or at P.O. Box 725373, Atlanta, Georgia 31139.