So how does Rob Chapman take two columns off in a row off?

Last time it was his wife and now its, me, the Replacment in the riter's seat. When is that dude ever going to get back to work?

The simple ancer is, I dunno.

To be honest, Rov's in a tiff because he left his car keys on top of the fireplace and locked the door on his way out of the house. He's got no one to let him back in to get his keys so he can come to work to write more glorious columns so people can read them before wrapping their fish in them or putting it in the bottom of the bird cages, provided of course if they have a bird or a dead fish to begin with.

Tisk. Tisk. What's The Herald to do?

Fill up the space by hiring me, of course, just until the lockout's over and Rob can get back to work. And I'm cheep, too.

My name is George and though I'm knew I'm trying my hand at this column stuff, but figure I'm OK at lining up numbers in math, once read something about iconic Greek architecture, watched Doric the Explorer with my kid, and am old enough to remember Ricardo Montoban pitching the rich Corinthian leather featured in Chrysler's Cordoba.

Well versed in history of kolumns, I am.

I figure anyone can actually do what Rob does: throw some words together, say something about puppies or children or fluffy, puffy stuff or make fun of himself-just rite, rite, rite. Hey, with the replacement no one will really notice that Rob's not even here, I figure. Besides, he's not all that funny anyway. That Shaflin dude, rob's frequent write-in candidate for Lifepoints, is much more hilarious, but he's pitching verbiage in some other league at the moment and was unavailable for Rob's seat.

So with rOb still stuck outside, his edidotr began calling around to find a replacment-just til the contractor can work out the locked door thing so rob can get his keys and get back to his desk.

After bad call after bad call with interference, his editor found gold old George-me-score!

I have experience riting- I rite checks (and some check plusses), turn right about half the time when I'm driving, was told once I had the “right one, baby, uh huh” bye Ray Charles, survived rites of passage, and even seen the writing on the wall-though I must admit it was rather graphitic and difficult to read (probably done by Prince).

So I figure as long as I look like ROB, dress like RoB, talk like ROb, fill up some newspaper space and eat up some time no one will ever really notize or care if I'm doin a good job or not.

That's what replacement's do. Replace.

So let's get two it. What to rite. Hmm. Let's see, how about: “Windows with clear glass?”

Or: “While all filing cabinets should be green.”

Perhaps: “Calendars are awesome, dude!”

What do you think?

Yea, that's what the editor thought of my mane ideas, too. He's driving out to Rob's house now to pick him up. But, don't worry about old George. He'll be subbing for the sports guy next.

I am, however, worried about writing about something as complex as football. It's awful easy to mix that stuff up.