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Editor: Staff News: We almost hired a new guy to help us run the program at PPP in Pleasantville. I don’t like to put anyone down, but this guy had the cognitive resources of a roundworm, plus he held some unsubstantiated ideas, such as this conspiracy theory that some players using long pips and antispin at our club were satan-worshiping anarchists who were drinking blood that wasn’t their own. He had dropped out of college after one semester and, to my knowledge, had never worked at a job for more than a few months. (His last employer had accused him of malfeasance, nonfeasance and misfeasance – that’s a helluva lot of ‘feasance.’) Even worse, he had inadequate ping pong skills. His social skills were equally deficient, in addition to his having halitosis and a horrendous case of B.O. In other words, he had what you’d call a thin resume … and he stunk. Nevertheless, we almost hired him anyway, because the present limping, older gentleman - the dinosaur that we’ve got, our so-called ringmaster who’s older than 3 previous US presidents - is all but ready for Hospice Ping Pong. (Some anecdotal evidence is proof. 1: The DMV is about to revoke his driver’s license. 2: Recently, he refused to follow his orthopedic doctor’s recommendation stating: “I already have a frozen shoulder, why should I put ice on it?”)
It’s not only his knees and shoulders which are shot. His pacemaker needs a new battery and he can’t seem to find his racket or keys on most days (or nights). Maybe worse than any of that, his ping pong rating is plummeting. It’s just so embarrassing for all of us here at PPP to see him playing with that antique racket he uses, the one that he probably made in his garage in 1954. I mean, lemme put it to you this way: This old codger shouldn’t be spending his declining years up here in Pleasantville. The guy is ripe (overripe) and ready for a senior living situation down in Florida somewhere. When we had to tell him that we were thinking of putting him out to pasture - Thank you for your service, but we’re looking for some new blood - his only response was that there was no need for that, because he’d get a transfusion. Can you imagine that? Well, whadda ya gonna do! Thing is, we’re still stuck with him for now, but it’s costing us money – for the defibrillator, supplemental oxygen and commodes that we have to have on hand just in case something fateful occurs. We had an emergency Board meeting about him, but hiring a hitman was ruled out … on a close vote. We’re thinking of taking his keys on Tuesdays so that he can’t make it here on our regularly scheduled sessions on Wednesdays. Of course, we’d welcome new applicants to take over his duties and for some new ideas as to how to jettison this geezer, but if this doesn’t happen real soon we’ll have to consider hiring the guy with the halitosis or taking another vote for a hitman ( hey, they shoot horses, don’t they?). If you know someone who can occasionally hit the ball over the net – and who gargles Listerine - please contact us so that we can replace our old coot.
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