Well, today the FW Weekly had a party. The celebration was the putting to bed of the huge Best Of issue, a sprawling paper covering what we writers think are the best of a couple of hundred things in Fort Worth and Tarrant County. Sometimes we go bowling. This year it was a pub crawl with food on either end to keep everyone sober enough to drive home.
This writer is sort of a designated non-driver as I wasn’t informed of the event until just before it started, and as I have several children to take care of, I couldn’t attend.
But if you are part of the public, today was the day to find us, collectively, and carry signs saying you hate us, or you feel that your crooked boss has a right to be a thief. Today you could have found nearly all of us at several places and come down on us for exposing illegal acts that earned you money, or for sending your jefe to jail for corruption that left you jobless.
Silly, right? Not at all. We at the Weekly try our best to uproot corruption, expose fakes, call on politicians who are misusing public funds and otherwise blow the bad guys out of the water. That’s our job and we love it.
And today, if you caught us, we were a group. You could have reviled us all, nearly.
Missed your chance? Tough.
Catch our annual event next year.
As the New York band, the Blues Project, (anchored by Al Kooper), sang nearly 40-years ago, “You can’t catch me….Oh, no you can’t catch me….I’ll be gone gone gone by the morning sun…”
“We at the Weekly try our best to uproot corruption, expose fakes, call on politicians who are misusing public funds and otherwise blow the bad guys out of the water”.
So you’re… like… Glen Beck.