It’s getting hard to walk into a room without rubbing my ears against the door frame.

Thursday, April 27, 2000

It’s getting hard to walk into a room without rubbing my ears against the door frame.

The ears are big enough, but what the problem is is a fat head.

Too much praise went to my head and I started acting cocky. "Touch journalist" … "not afraid of anybody" … "reminds me of the TV detective, Columbo" and more.

A fellow can only stand so much.

It was interesting to see the reaction of my media rivals. For instance, since my stop-the-presses, call-grandma-at-the-nursing home genuine third-place feature story award, the KAAL television news cameraman seem to be using more shots of me when filming county board meetings.

Unfortunately, they’re focusing on the top of my head which seems to have a hole in it where hair used to be.

But, that’s understandable. Jealousy is a reality in life.

Still, truth be told: there are some stories that I have avoided. Stories that are just too complicated for me to sort out. Stories that give me pause.

For instance, a guy came into the Austin Daily Herald newsroom recently fit to be tied.

It seems he went to a local supermarket (name withheld to prevent me from being banned) and bought three Cornish hens for a dollar or some ridiculous price like that.

He liked them so much that the next day he went back and tried to buy three more for a dollar only to be told there was a mistake in the newspaper ad and the Cornish hens were really 2 for $2.

"I had the newspaper ad right there with me and told them they lied to me," the man said. "I wanna know who’s gonna make this right. The newspaper or the store?"

While my colleagues busied themselves staring at the screen savers on their computers, I tried to placate the man, but he wasn’t satisfied with my charms.

"You oughtta write a story about this," he challenged me.

"Good idea," I replied and bade him farewell with a polite "Don’t call me. I’ll call you."

Right away my special award-winning journalist sensors told me "This guy is out of his mind. Remember the mess you got into with the crazy 400 million chicken egg-laying controversy with MOPRO in Red Rock Township. Stay away from poultry."

So, that’s one story I won’t tackle.

Another example of impossible stories is the one about crop circles in the fields outside Adams.

I will admit, this one sounded tempting to me.

That’s because of the feud that continues between Police Chief Gordon Briggs and me.

I was minding my business one night at the Adams American Legion Post, where they were honoring members of the rural fire association for saving the most foundations.

In walks Briggs and right away everything comes to a halt and every eye turns to the police chief and the reporter.

Briggs is one of those peace officers who is a little obsessed. For instance, his friends say Gordy just loves the smell of handcuffs in the morning when he wakes up.

He nabbed me once for a trumped-up illegal parking charge and every time I visit Adams I just can feel Chief Briggs parked in an alley waiting for me to make a mistake.

But, the Adams countryside is out of the police chief’s jurisdiction so he can’t be blamed for not investigating the crop circles.

I’m up to the job, but I think I know the explanation for the crop circles.

It has to be Byron Huseby walking around in circles late at night after the boys played another trick on him.

Cornish hens and crop circles. They’re too hot for me to handle.

Lee Bonorden’s column appears Thursdays