A Letter From Bertie

From the desk of Bertram Bird—

Dear Reader of the Sunday Casual-Observer,

A week ago, my attorney informed me that I was the uncontested owner of the Sunday Casual-Observer. I fired him on the spot. There are some people who like owning newspapers and some who don't. You can place me safely in the don't group.

This attorney was the one I'd hired to audit my business contracts, who noticed that my transfer of interest in the Sunday C-O was legally ambiguous. He proposed we could "encourage the paper's new owner to trade some money for peace of mind."

"A shakedown?" I asked him. He admitted that, yes, that's more or less what he meant.

His plan was a blunt one. He'd file a lawsuit against Tom George, claiming I owned the business. Then we'd send a scary settlement offer, and wait for a counteroffer. I made it clear to this attorney that I already owned one worthless newspaper, and I didn't want another. He assured me that the Sunday's novice publisher was "totally wrapped up in the title." He said there was "a negatively negative chance that Tom George signs the settlement." In retrospect, I should have studied that arithmetic more closely. Once I'd seen the Sunday's financial records, I understood where our strategy went amiss.

So. I called Tom George and told him I'd had a change of heart. We could tear up the settlement, hit the undo button, and pretend it never happened. He said I should have called an hour earlier. He'd already signed a contract to buy The Daily Ostrich. And you can't fault him for that. Talk about landing on your feet!

I had a good laugh, when I realized how thoroughly I'd "played" myself. Still, as I said, I have no wish to own another newspaper. The long run of the Sunday Casual-Observer ends today. To any zealous readers, if there are any, I apologize for my role in its demise.

If nothing else, I know how to cut my losses. I paid the newspaper's debts, and I went to see the Fire Marshal, who's threatening to condemn the Observer Building. I told him, if he wanted it, he could have it. To my surprise, he accepted—the fire department can use the building for a live-heat training drill. So that's dealt with. I feel good knowing they'll set fire to the old eyesore.

When all the chips had fallen, I made a second call to the lucky new owner of The Daily Ostrich, and invited him out for lunch. We met for pizza, and came to a gentleman's agreement. He won't use his new paper to rub my nose in the mud, and I'll sign over the rights to his issues of the Sunday C-O. (I've read them, and, I promise you, I'm not losing anything valuable.) To show there were no hard feelings, I offered to write this letter, and explain the situation.

With that, I bid adieu to the Sunday Casual-Observer, the only thing my father truly loved. For myself, I won't pretend to miss it.

Yours sincerely,
Bertram Bird