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Scott Hollifield

As we continue to feel the effects of a global pandemic and our planet sits precariously on the edge of another world war, some people are asking this important question: Why does an Oreo cookie’s cream stick to just one wafer when twisted apart?

Regular readers of this column, both of them, know I am no fan of overreaching government regulation, but I am in full support of South Carolina lawmakers’ recent efforts to curb alligator molestation.

As a semi-respected small-town newspaper editor, regionally known humor columnist and former cigar-chomping, hooch-swilling, skirt-chasing, cholesterol-lowering-medication-taking, underpaid and overworked bureau chief of the fictional yet highly respected Monkey Action News Team, I don’t use my journalistic status, real or imagined, to promote goods or services.

Please enjoy this lightly edited column first published more than a decade ago, when all we had to worry about was the proliferation of mass dog weddings around the globe. Those were the days. I will return next week with something fresh to chew on.

When a dead raccoon showed up in our yard a couple of weeks ago, I pondered a way to tell the tale that would take it from revolting to slightly less revolting. I decided to go with the style of hardboiled detective fiction for this true (though slightly embellished) story I call…

In breaking dinosaur news, Dewayne “The Rock” Johnson does not own a T. rex skull worth $32 million, Washington state could finally name its official dino and a creature dubbed the “living fortress” had a lot going against it.

As the interim senior correspondent for tradition and mythology as well as Mr. November in the 2022 swimsuit calendar for this award-winning publication (Note: not all newspapers carrying this column publish a swimsuit calendar) I was able to land an exclusive interview with Baby New Year. The following has been edited and condensed for clarity, as well as totally made up.

Leaves are turning, a chill is in the air and the hellish groundhogs have rooted under my shed after devouring two-thirds of the garden’s summer bounty. That could only mean one thing – it’s time for the Fall 2021 edition of Nudity in the News, a semi-regular feature putting a spotlight on things that should stay covered up.

I watched through the living room window as a neighborhood kid, his bicycle slightly too big for his stature, paused at the two-foot, rock-walled drop-off that separates my yard from the yard of my neighbor, the crazy postal worker.

Today I would like to apologize to the bee community for an unfortunate misidentification in a previous column while also providing an update on my summer-long battle with stinging insects that seemed to emerge from the depths of hell.

I’ve been too busy celebrating our nation’s independence and running groundhogs out of the garden to write a new column, but I was able to dig up an old one from the 1990s that has some relevance today, considering the recent release of the government UFO report.

“Hey, Scott, can you update us on the latest outer space news?” said absolutely no one. That’s not going to stop me from this special report called OUTER SPACE NEWS 2021: SPRING EDITION, a look at headlines that are out of this world.

As of this writing, nearly 107 million Americans have been fully vaccinated against COVID-19 and I am happy to say I am among them.

I’m still in vacation mode, so here’s a lightly edited column from back in the 1990s that no one will remember reading, revamped slightly to remove a few dated references. I did leave in former talk show host Phil Donahue, choosing not replace him with Dr. Phil, which would give the column a more contemporary slant and not remind you, the reader, this is an ancient repeat. As far as talk show hosts named Phil go, I am still partial to Donahue so I stuck with him. The column’s theme is one I’ve returned to time and time again over the years – home-improvement projects gone awry. Eventually, I completed this one, sold the house a few years after that and the new owners burned it down with an improperly installed wood stove, forever erasing my handiwork. But that is their story. This one is mine.

Author’s note: I’m taking a couple of days of vacation and figured I would rework this column from 25 years ago when I took a couple of days of vacation. It’s been lightly edited to get rid of some terribly dated references, but it’s about like it was when it first appeared back in the day. I’ll probably come back from this vacation with another story to tell so stay tuned.

As a child of the '70s who grew up gnawing on lead-painted building blocks, tossing metal-tipped lawn darts and participating in BB gun shootouts, I look forward each Christmas to the newest list of most-dangerous toys.

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