You Win. Again.

Back in the glory days day of newspapers the very smartest editors knew it was very smart to run a lot of letters to the editor. It was not because it kept the editors honest, or because it corrected their mistakes, or because it put them in touch with the soul and heartbeat of their readers. It was because:

• Letters were cheap — free labor, basically.

• They sold more papers. People would buy extra copies if their name was in it.

• The editors knew that every so often, perhaps by accident, the dolts out there would have something of value to say.

Times have changed. We are less arrogant now, and more insecure — financially and emotionally. Readers rule, now. The Web empowers them. We are in the era of The Hive Mind, and it has worked out. It turns out the dolts often really do have something of value to say.

The Gene Pool is one of the very few newsletters that accepts not just Comments, but Letters; we print them often. Letters are more expansive than Comments, which are good but tend to be fired from the hip, in real time. Letters have marinated in thought.

Comments are instant macaroni and cheese. Letters are duck a l’orange.

Today, I’m printing only letters, ones that have accumulated over the last month or so. Really good ones.

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Q: Is this not an aptonym?

Richland Co. mayor charged with voyeurism after allegedly sniffing teen girl’s underwear

BUTLER VILLAGE, Ohio - Butler Mayor Wesley Dingus is facing two counts of voyeurism after …

A: That is not just an aptonym. It is a GAOAT, one of the greatest aptonyms of all time.

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Regarding your call for old technologies that are better than new ones: On my desk is a Pilot model 402 stapler.

It’s older than I am (I’m in my late 60’s). I inherited it from my father who saved it from the being thrown away at his office when they replaced it with more “modern” equipment in the mid-1950s, more streamlined ones. The stapler still works flawlessly.

Pilot model 402, circa 1942

A: Indeed. I have, in my home — and still use — a Griswold cast-iron frying pan rescued from my grandmother’s kitchen; she got it as a new wife in The Bronx in 1912 or so. Holds and distributes heat better than any other pan I’ve ever had.

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Q: Regarding your call for odd overheard conversations. Mine is a non-conversation. My wife and I once sat in a restaurant next to a man who spent the entire evening on his phone with nary a glance for his spouse, who was eating silently in front of him. The only time we were spared his boorish behavior was when he excused himself to go the bathroom. At that precise moment, the restaurant staff arrived with sparklers and a cake, and sang “Happy birthday” to the poor woman (who briefly lit up, reveling in the sudden burst of attention). The waitpeople were gone by the time the man returned, and as he was still on his phone, she couldn’t even inform him that a tiny bit of celebration had occurred in his absence. To this day, my wife and I still use that example whenever we get into “shoot-me-if-I-ever-get-that-way” territory.

— Charles M., Montreal, Canada

A: He probably even forgot he had arranged for that.

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Q: Something occurred to me when I saw “plans” for the new White House ballroom. I’ve seen this movie before. My wife & I were serving as pastors of a small church in northern OH about 49 years ago. We needed a new council president and immediately thought of “Sam.” Sam was the owner of a HVAC company, a trained engineer, a regular church-goer, always immaculately dressed.

When we floated the idea at a meeting his wife was attending, she advised against it “at this time,” because Sam was having “some health issues.” Six months later, Sam’s wife tells us his health had deteriorated and she needed to (as they used to say) “put him in a home.”

We went to visit Sam and found he was in the locked dementia wing. He didn’t recognize us, but was pleasant, immaculately dressed. He spoke well and asked if we’d like to look around. He pointed to the HVAC system and told us he and his crew were installing a new unit. He pointed to duct work (that wasn’t there), and marveled at the scope of the work ahead. He was a builder, and building is what he in his mind was still doing.

DJT has fancied himself a builder, and now puts out designs for the biggest ballroom in DC. He proposes an arch that dwarfs the Arc de Triumph. He proposes turning the municipal golf course in DC into a PGA-level course. He is Sam. Sam, however, was in a locked ward, not in the WH.

— William Pifer-Foote

A: Excellent storytelling. Thank you.

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Q: Did you see that The Daily Cartoonist gave Barney & Clyde a shoutout for elegantly depicting the agonies of creativity and the tyranny of editors? — Michael

A: I did. Backstory supports the thesis: I was past deadline for this strip, and desperation forced inspiration. In short, this is dramatically drawn (haha) from real life. For newbies to The Gene Pool, this is Barney Pillsbury, billionaire pharmaceuticals tycoon, and his brilliant, wildly cynical 11-year-old daughter, Cynthia. They are two of the four main stars of Barney & Clyde, a strip I write with artist David Clark and Horace LaBadie, a grumpy old polymath who lives in Florida.

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Q: You asked for unfortunate headlines. I was once editing a story about a speech. The speaker had warned his listeners that they should be prepared for the difficult times they would soon be encountering. My headline, if I remember correctly, was, “Speaker Warns of Struggles to Come.” Our publisher, who fortunately had a good sense of humor when he was sober, wrote me a note to the effect that, at his age, it was definitely worth it.

— Lawrence Paulson

A: Excellent.

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Q: Chyron on the local Fox affiliate: INSURANCE COMPANY BUILDS BIKES FOR LOCAL UNDESERVED CHILDREN — Tim Elliott

A: Very nice.

I feel I must reprint here what is perhaps the greatest typo ever.

Q: Many years ago when I was a sports writer for The Ledger-Star in Norfolk, one of my colleagues, Dick Welsh, who covered golf among other beats, was reporting on the out-of-town Virginia state amateur tournament. Back then when we were on the road, we filed our stories by calling a number and reading the story to a recording machine, after which it was transcribed by a secretary. Dick was dismayed when he saw that his lede about the tournament leader—“a tow-headed Indianian”—was printed as “a two-headed Indian.”

A: And thank you.

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Q: This is late, but I was happy to read your honorific to Kay Graham. I knew her growing up as my father and uncle, Stewart and Joseph Alsop, were reporters from 1946 until my father’s untimely death in 1974. They wrote a column for the Herald Tribune Syndicate called MATTER OF FACT. The Washington Post that she inherited and that she took to new heights with courage and quiet humor is now gone and it leaves a huge hole in the information system of our democracy, especially located in the Capital. Thank you for reminding us what used to be. — Elizabeth Winthrop Alsop

A: Thank you. And welcome to The Gene Pool.

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Q: Old things: I still use a Rolodex, but for passwords, not contact info.

A: That’s brilliant. I shall get one and use it for that.

Every reporter from about 1930 to about 1990 had a Rolodex on his or her desk. How thick and faded it was was a measure of your worth, because it was a measure of the number of your sources.

For the kids out there:

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That’s it for the day. Hey, send in new LETTERS. Letters are great. Stuff ‘em here, into the MAIL SLOT:

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Remember: Don’t watch SOTU, at least not in real time. Let’s throw out this serving of Dick a L’Orange like it the swill that it is.

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Today’s Gene Pool Gene Poll:

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Finally, once more, for the money:

Please consider becoming a paying subscribers to the Gene Pool. Unlike most new newsletters, we are still charging only $50 a year. That is about eighteen pennies a post.

The newer newsletters are mostly starting out at $80. I’d rather not do that, as long as I can afford to hold out. An uninterrupted $50 subscription stays that way for your life or mine, whichever ends first, however high rates may go in the interim. Thank you for your attention to this matter.