Actor Charles Nelson Reilly Dies at 76

“Reuters is a global information company providing indispensable information tailored for professionals in the financial services, media and corporate markets. Our information is trusted and drives decisionmaking across the globe.”–Reuters company overview.

Today’s indispensable information, tailored for professionals: “U.S. voters, if they could spend a Memorial Day picnic with any of the leading presidential choices for 2008, would pick Republican Rudolph Giuliani and Democrat Barack Obama, a poll released on Friday said.“

And perhaps of the year:

“I don’t claim to have any relevancy.“

Most Dear Colleague letters we see in the office aren’t worth reading, so letters like this make up for the rest of them.

May 15, 2007

Dear Colleague:

I appreciate the concern expressed by many about why my arm is in a sling. In order to avoid having to repeat the same conversation, I am sending out this Dear Colleague.

I ruptured a tendon in my left arm using a curling machine in a gym, and I had it surgically repaired yesterday at Bethesda Naval Hospital. I’ll be using the sling for a week or two, but I feel fine.

Thanks for not asking.

Barney Frank

Named: Ken Blackwell, as senior fellow for family empowerment at the Family Research Council. Blackwell is a former undersecretary of the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development and U.S. ambassador to the U.N. Human Rights Commission. He ran unsuccessfully for governor of Ohio in 2006.–Christianity Today.

Is it necessary to use the word “unsuccessfully” there? If it had said “He ran for governor of Ohio in 2006,” would people wonder, “Did he win?”

If he had, wouldn’t he be identified in the blurb as “Governor Ken Blackwell”?

Or–better yet–if he had, would he have time to be a senior fellow for family empowerment at the Family Reserach Council?

Good afternoon. I should apologize for my shortness, but I don’t feel like it right now.

You see, you’re from a friendly organization–by which I mean my boss is 101-percent behind you. Has he ever cast a vote that you didn’t agree with?

You’re from a friendly organization and you’re calling at 4:45 PM on a Friday when the House is not in session. You know what I’m doing at 4:45 PM on a Friday when the House is not in session? Hint: it involves checking the traffic cameras online to see which route I should take home.

And you’re calling about a bill that’s being considered in committee next week. What can be done about that over the weekend? Nothing. Not a bloody thing. So what I’m saying is that a 4:45 PM call on Friday is exactly like a 9:30 AM call on Monday. In case you don’t see where I’m going with this: why not just call at 9:30 AM on Monday?

On top of that, you called to get my e-mail address so you could e-mail me your organization’s position on said bill. Then–and this is what sparked my mood–you proceeded with a 10-minute monologue on the contents of that position paper. Do I need both? Could we have each saved some time by you e-mailing the thing to me, letting me look it over, and then I could call you if I had questions?

And then you asked me if I’d talked to my boss about your position paper. I don’t have it yet! All I have is a headache from your mind-numbing presentation at 4:45 PM on a Friday when the House is not in session. “Well, my boss is going to ask me if you got word directly from your boss that he agrees with our position.” Your boss is going to ask you that at 4:45 PM on a Friday? I might have to apologize now, sister: you have the worst job in the world.

Can’t you just tell your boss “it was 4:45 PM on a Friday when the House was not in session when I called, so he didn’t have a chance to discuss our position with his boss”? That ought to work. If not, you should really seek new employment. (You want my job? Probably not: sometimes in this job, people from friendly organizations call you at *:** PM on a ****** when the ***** is not in ******* and ask you stupid questions.)

So here we are. I’ll be getting my e-mail soon, you’ll get over my curtness, my boss–shocking to no one–will be right there in your corner next week, and all will be well.

You can call to thank me next week, but don’t be surprised if I let you go right to my voicemail.

It’s odd–the things that remind me of my dad.

My license plates, for instance.

When I bought this vehicle in 2004, I was issued Virginia’s standard Jamestown plate (”1607-2007″). (Not the ones with the little boat on them–they were $15 extra. I have no desire to enrich the People’s Republic of Northern Virginia any more than I must.) It was odd that Virginia didn’t have anything more timely to 2004 to put on its plates back then; I for one would have been honored to display a plate commemorating the Burr-Hamilton duel of 1804. Maybe with little stick-figure drawings with guns. Or the “before” scene on the front plate (Burr and Hamilton aiming their pistols at each other) and the “after” on the back (Burr dead on the ground, Hamilton standing with one foot on Burr’s chest–history be damned!).

But I digress.

I thought the plates were odd since the Jamestown commemorations were still three years away. And the first time I drove home in the new vehicle, my dad mentioned the plates right away and said the same thing. And then–ever the history teacher–gave me a little quiz on the history of Jamestown. Which I failed.

I have no idea why that memory sticks in my head. We had a lot of conversations like that when I was home.

But now it is 2007, and the Queen is in Virginia to mark the Jamestown anniversary, and this has come rushing back.