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I stand before you stripped of any dignity I once could have claimed.
Actually, I am sitting in front of a computer screen, but still, no evidence of dignity.
You are reading words delivered by Saskatchewan’s worst columnist and I can prove it. Now why would I bother pointing out this humiliating fact?
Well, as it has been determined, I’m not that clever at choosing subjects. Secondly, and probably more importantly, I will stoop to any level of self degradation to come up with a weekly idea to promote on paper for all four of my regular readers.
There was a time I was considered to be the best in the province, and I have the clunky plaques to prove it. But alas, the mighty must fall. Just ask Tiger Woods, Alex Rodriquez, J. Bieber and that wimpy beard guy in the Canadian Tire commercials about fame and its elusiveness. My so-called fame was even more fleeting, and certainly unrecognized, as would be my tumble into the dark abyss of columnissness if I hadn’t brought it up. In other words, you didn’t know it when I was at the top of my game, dear diary and you would not have known that I was now at the bottom, until I mentioned it .
Last year there were only 10 columnists who submitted three consecutive diatribes to be assessed by alien judges. There used to be about 20 of us who pursued the cheap plaques that recognized reporters as being good at something in the world of the Saskatchewan Weekly Newspapers Association. I now enter the fray only in the spirit of participation. If someone needs to finish last, it might as well be me. I’ve had my day on the mountaintop and it made me a little weazy. I’m not that familiar with the rarified air of success. I’m more comfortable on the bottom rung. And yes, my marks, as distributed by the alien judge(s) put me there last year. I pretty well didn’t meet any of their criteria and I could have saved myself some agony if I had only read the assessment sheets. Each category was good for 25 marks. I was near the top for style but then failed miserably when it came to clarity, impact to community and content.
Let’s face it dear diary, this column’s impact on the community is non-existent. Three years ago we launched a literal nickel and dime campaign through this column that was successful enough that it gave me naming rights for two toilets in Affinity Place. I kid you not. That $412 raised through small change from readers paid for two toilets. Just think about that the next time you have to go at Affinity Place. But since then? How many columns can one do about garbage pickup and sewer rates?
The girl named the top columnist is a great worker of words. Her subjects usually focus on visiting sisters, babies and trips. I have none of the above. But I’m delivering a message to this year’s judges, whomever they are and wherever they live … I want at least 11 marks for clarity this year. Do you hear me alien judges? Eleven for clarity, do I make myself clear? And for content, well, this column is evidence enough that this is probably an area that needs work.
But don’t give up on me quite yet, dear diary. Next week I might come up with a gem of an idea and a plethora of words that we’ll kinda understand and the 2015 judges will boost me to ninth place on the literary hits parade. My anxiety level is about six out of 25.
