Any ideas?

From time to time I tend to need a little help coming up with an idea for a column. Luckily, I have a network of friends and family members who come to my aid when I find myself faced with such a dilemma.

Yesterday I got on the phone seeking assistance from some folks who have proved themselves to be very helpful in the past.

The first person I called was my good buddy Ralph.

“What do you think my column should be about this week, old buddy?” I asked.

“About five paragraphs shorter than last week's piece,” he replied.

Big help, Ralph. How can I ever thank you enough?

Next I dialed up Roger. Roger's wife answered the phone and told me that Rog was out in the yard but she would get him to the phone. When he said, “Hello,” I asked him the same question I had previously put to Ralph.

“I can't believe you bothered me to ask me such a question,” Roger shot at me. “I was out in the yard listening to the radio while changing the air in my lawn mower tires and in general having a great time.

“Then you call so you can ask me how to do your job.

“Gee Benj. Give me a break. I still lack two tires, I'll call you back in a week.” Click.

Getting more desperate by the minute, I revisited my phone list where I found my old friend Charlie's number. Charlie is what I'd call a real life intellectual so I knew I could count on him for some useful input. So, I asked him the same burning question.

“It may take you some time son,” Charlie responded, “but you could come up with a pretty readable piece if you trace the current housing crisis back to its roots and then explain how the practice of sub-prime lending has influenced the U.S. housing market.”

“But Charlie, I don't know one single thing about those sub what-you-call-its or any of that stuff,” I informed him. “How do you think I can write about things I know nothing about?”

Charlie's reply, “You've written about things you know nothing about for nearly two decades. Why is it all of a sudden a problem?” Click.

I was quickly running out of options so I did what every red blooded American boy does when he gets desperate. I called my Momma.

“Momma, please help me. I've got a column due and I am stuck for a topic,” I begged, making sure she could hear the whine in my voice.

“Well, you should tell your readers about the time you brought that girl home, you know the one with the tattoos and tank top and the imitation leather boots.

“Tell them how she was driving you around in her Daddy's logging truck with George Jones screaming as loudly as humanly possible from the eight-track tape player.” Mom continued, “Go into some detail about how she hated the fact that you smoked cigarettes because the second-hand smoke was making her cough and she was afraid her coughing might cause her to get choked on her Red Man chewing tobacco. And don't forget to mention how she swore she was born with that tattoo on her left forearm. That ought to fill your space if you don't mind a little egg on your face.” Click.

Finally, I went to my wife for help. She had just gotten home from work and was in a big hurry to hit the sack, but I asked anyway.

“Did you ever write about the time you tried to tune up your car and when you were finished the thing had to be towed to a garage where it required two mechanics and over $100 in parts to get it running again?” she answered as she pulled the covers over her head.

I've got to find myself a smarter bunch of friends.

It's pretty obvious my family members aren't casting the brightest lights in the harbor either.

Benjie Watts of Gamewell is a columnist for the News-Topic. If you want to leave a message for him him call the TopicLine, 757-4300, category number 4335.