Richard Crowson

It’s just a week and a half from February, Black History Month. But the way things have been going lately, January should be called the “talk-in-code-to-racists” month. You know what I’m talking about, wink, wink. I’m talking about the “Food stamp president” and his wife, “Mrs. Yo-mama.” Wink, wink.

When disgraced former Speaker of the House, Newt Gingrich, railed against the President in a South Carolina speech recently, calling him “the food-stamp president,” everybody knew what he meant.

We are all feeling the sharp pain of the Boeing Company’s knife-in-the-back announcement on Wednesday. After more than 80 years of profiting from the sweat, skills and talent of Wichita’s citizens, Boeing is kissing us goodbye and punctuating their farewell by giving that knife a little extra twist against our spine. Just their way of saying, “Air Capitol, Schmair Capitol. I can’t believe you bought the line about my bringing 7,500 new jobs to Kansas with the tanker program. So long, chump.”

Christmas seems like a good time to reflect on all things warm and wonderful. In other words, on dogs. Proudly open about their feelings, dogs seem to have the sort of values and traits that sometimes put us unpredictable, ungrateful, back-stabbing human beings to shame. Dogs can be fiercely loyal, protective and attentive to our needs. And furthermore, they treat us as if we really do deserve this sort of behavior.

As this season of joy and peace falls upon the earth; as the winter snowflakes silently drift downward, ever downward toward the frosty ground; as Santa descends chimney after chimney, falling with his presents into millions of homes, it’s nice to think that there are a few things that are going up instead of down.

City Hall has a present
For each Wichita peasant
In the December chill
They’re raising your bill
Living in a water wonderland

One of the things I did not give thanks for yesterday before my family’s Thanksgiving meal was the Wichita City Council. Nor was I able to express gratitude for the pure and pristine waters of the Arkansas River.

Christmas has hundreds of songs. Thanksgiving has “Over the River and Through the Wood.” New Year’s has “Auld Lang Syne” and Easter has “Here Comes Peter Cottontail.” But Halloween has zilch.

So here’s a song for Halloween. Played, appropriately I think, on the scariest instrument—the banjo.

This is a list of each scary thing that can frighten you this Halloween:

A letter for you from the IRS
A store-bought cantaloupe
Yet another GOP presidential debate
To drain your soul of hope

Recently I had occasion to dust off and update my resume. As it usually does, the whole thing once more gave me a bad case of “the squirms.” As I sat there pumping up my accomplishments in an attempt to make myself sound like a cross between Dr. Jonas Salk and Donald Trump, I couldn’t help thinking about certain people who brag themselves into a state of sainthood practically 24/7.

Every Fall, I pretend to be something that I’m not. Way before the Halloween costume season, I start wearing my mask. I disguise myself as someone who gives a flying whoop-ti-doo about their lawn.