You know what they say: “Get ahead of the news before you become the news.” Or something like that. Well, this is my attempt to clear my good name in advance of the media circus that is sure to follow. This is my story.
Over the weekend, Sen. Lindsey Graham of South Carolina announced on “Meet the Press” that he has never sent an e-mail. He stopped short of admitting he has never sent a text-message, though I know for a fact he hasn’t. I know because I’ve been moonlighting as Sen. Graham’s carrier pigeon since 2007. I’ve never asked who the bird was before me. I don’t want to know his name. I don’t want to know what happened to him.
Before you get all, “Crummy, why are you dipping your beak into the political waters? Stick to the Nets,” let me explain myself.
First, let me say, I’m not proud of it. I got into this racket because the Nets were going nowhere fast, constantly circling the drain. They were a disaster in New Jersey. They’ve had some halfway decent times in Brooklyn thus far, but nothing to bring them a following that would get me enough clicks to pull me away from working for Graham. The money is too good.
A bird with my experience can net close to $500 a night, plus the scraps from whatever Graham’s caterers whipped up for the night.
And what an ingenious move on his part to join the subcommittee on privacy, technology and the law. It’s the perfect ruse. No one expects a senator on a technology subcommittee to reminisce about the town crier, which Graham does, regularly. He’d ride everywhere on horseback if it weren’t for everybody having a dang telegraph-enabled Polaroid in their pocket, as he likes to say.
It’s not just Graham either, there are other politicians who employ pigeons’ services. I won’t name names. Despite the common slur — rat with wings — I’m no rat. (I know you’re asking yourself if Hillary Clinton had some poultry on the payroll — all I can say is there was no line in the state department budget for it.) And in the wake of the extinction of our passenger pigeon brethren just more than a century ago, we common pigeons have figured out the business. It involves more train-hopping and grappling hooks than it did in the pure old days some are so fond of reminiscing about, but we get the job done.
I’ve seen some things, man. If you think my bird’s-eye view from the rafters at the Rust Bowl yields some juicy insight into the Brooklyn franchise, you wouldn’t believe what I know about the game of world diplomacy.
Just a couple weeks ago I saw an albatross take off with a message for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu marked “for anyone but Obama’s eyes only.” Personally, I’ve been on the payroll since 2007, but I haven’t been asked to take any transatlantic trips. I’m a strictly domestic bird. Lindsey uses the bigger haulers for that. Sometimes they don’t return. It’s a high stakes game we’re playing, but like I said, the money is good.
Now that I’ve got that off my chest, and might soon be out of my most lucrative post, I better really hunker down on the local basketball team. So, fear not, loyal readers, I got your Nets update right here: The team stinks! How’s that for analysis?
Our Nets gave away the game against Phoenix. Indiana and Boston have passed them in the standings. Just when you thought that game against Golden State was the turning point, they reminded you exactly who they are: a bunch of old guys, past their prime, unwilling to recognize the changing times.
Hm, that sounds familiar, doesn’t it?
