Bribe season is now open

We're just a few days away from the Big Holiday Season that begins when the Thanksgiving turkey starts thawing and ends right before anyone who won an election this year is sworn in.

Some of you will be entering the Southeast Missourian's "Holiday Best" candy contest.

I can't think of a better way to spend your time as the days grow shorter and colder than standing over a stove waiting for a pan of melted sugar and butter to reach the perfect temperature.

Let me say that our candy judges, including Susan McClanahan and Tom Harte, will be fair and impartial.

But if you want to bribe the editor or seek an advantage in the contest by swaying yours truly, it's really easy to do.

Just set aside a small but representative sample of whatever you plan to enter in the contest and bring it to me. Our front door at 301 Broadway is unlocked from 8 a.m. until 5 p.m. Monday through Friday. Be sure to put my name on all bribes. I don't want your "gifts" (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) to wind up in some place like the accounting department, where they frown on devious and underhanded mischief.

And if you can't remember my name, that's OK. Just put "BRIBE" in bold letters on your bribe. Everyone here knows I'm the only one who would stoop so low.

I can't really say that I have a shred of influence over the honest, upright judges in the "Holiday Best" candy contest. But you never know. Are you willing to take that risk?

Good luck. And may the best candy win.

No, really, I mean that.

n

Finally.

The Crud has done all the damage it can to my cough-wracked body and has decided to find new victims.

I am sorry for anyone who gets The Crud, but I'm sure as heck not sorry I'm recovering.

Five weeks. That's how long my case of The Crud lasted. When I saw the doctor at the four-week mark, he informed me The Crud usually takes four to six weeks to wind down. Great, I thought. I could have this another two weeks.

But your prayers and potions appear to be working. Or maybe The Crud just got tired of messing around with me.

My heartfelt thanks goes to all who expressed concern and offered advice. I didn't mind that you wouldn't sit next to me and waved your greetings from a distance. I didn't want you to catch what I had any more than you did.

I even heard from a graduate of my old high school in my favorite hometown (remember the Bobcats?). Her remedy was to let salt dissolve on your tongue and trickle into your throat. This was a familiar cure, similar to one my mother has used all her life and recommended to me in Week One of my Current Unfortunate Situation. It's amazing what you can do with ordinary table salt.

I would have gargled with gasoline and thrown in a lighted match for good measure at several points during the weeks The Crud invaded my throat and lungs, so a little salt seemed pretty tame to me.

I now know what a Robitussin hangover feels like. Yes, I know the manufacturer says there is no alcohol in its product, but there are lots of other things that can knock you for a loop.

Let's just say that during my five-week affair with The Crud I didn't worry much about not having a flu shot.

I like to look for silver linings, no matter how skimpy they are.

R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.