If everyone already knows what everyone else is doing, then everyone is automatically caught. Well, it’s good to hear Ink-a-dink-a-doo-doo talk himself out of business.
“I hate to tell you, old man, but nowadays we have these things called smart phones and social media sites, so that people can get caught instantly without waiting for a newspaper to report it. Maybe I’d get more relevant career advice from yon village blacksmith.”
“Everyone knows what everyone else is doing … unless they’re setting fire to a set of stairs in the middle of the night in order to protest a makeshift bookstore carrying a book that isn’t approved for sale at a school in a neighboring town. Then, nobody knows. Not the police, not us.”
Look at the way Emily just sits, her hand never moving. Do you get the feeling that she’s not real and is simply a figment of the isolated and increasingly senescent Skip Bittman’s imagination? Will she next inspire him to start Centerville’s Fight Club?
“Emily” looks more like a clothing store mannequin than an actual person. (Either that, or she’s completely blitzed out of her gourd. Which, to be fair, I wouldn’t blame her if that’s how she prepared to meet this dullard.)
Oh yeah? So ya means everyone is knows the mysterious disappearance of Eugene over the lake? Does everyone already knows he drown in there and still no bothers gets the body outta there? Is that why you never bother to publeesh anytheengs about it in yours little newspaper? And if it that small a town they why you is needs so many school buses for cheeldrens? If it really that small then them kids coulda just walks to the only school you gots.
Monday: Generic Blonde appears and Skip welcomes her. Tuesday: Skip mentions casually that they are the only two in the building. Wednesday: Skip openly speculates whether he will get caught. Honestly, the creepiness factor of this week’s story is unnerving.
Emily sat quietly, her notebook balanced on her knee, listening to Mr. Rawlings talk about the town, the newspaper, and the joke he delivered with a crooked smile. “In Centerville,” he said, “everyone already knows what everyone else is doing. The job of the newspaper is to let them know if anyone gets caught.” He chuckled softly, but Emily saw the glint of something deeper in his eyes. Experience. Wisdom. Maybe a touch of sadness.
She scribbled the line down, not because it was funny, but because it captured something raw about this place and maybe even the world. Centerville was small, but the stories here weren’t. They were human stories—of people and the things they did when they thought no one was watching. Stories of truth and lies, of heartbreak and triumph, of the choices that shaped lives in ways big and small.
As Mr. Rawlings spoke, Emily began to understand the weight of the work he had done for decades. This wasn’t just about reporting facts; it was about finding the thread of meaning in a tangle of events and weaving it into something that mattered. Something that made people stop and think, maybe even feel.
“You know,” Rawlings said, leaning back in his chair, “this job—it’s not about the headlines. It’s not about getting your name in print or chasing fame. It’s about looking at the world as it is, with all its flaws and beauty, and telling the truth about it. Not everyone wants the truth. But the ones who do? They’re worth writing for.”
Emily nodded, her pen hovering over the page. She could feel it now, the calling she hadn’t fully realized before. The urge to write not just for herself, but for something larger. To capture the stories that mattered, the ones that revealed what it meant to be human.
As the afternoon light slanted through the window, Emily made a decision. She would do this. She would write. Because in a world filled with noise, someone had to find the meaning and give it voice. And maybe, just maybe, that someone could be her.
Stories we’d like to see, but the cartoonist lacks the skill:
Best Actress Award Winner Les Moore sends Emily out on an alleged assignment to shadow Skip. He wants Emily to find out what Skip knows about the bookstore fires he set.
I occasionally buy the small local paper because it’s cheaper than paper towels for soaking up cooking grease. It mostly seems to be just high school sports scores, and obituaries.
Had a small town paper where I grew up, it was a place of 5000 people. Came out once a week and they posted all the local drama. Don’t get caught driving wrong, shoplift, break curfew or any other 100 things. You’d end up on the pages of the Eagle. And they always made sure to include all salacious details.
I’m still sticking with my contention that there is no Stencherville Sentinel, and Skippy is actually just hired to cosplay the historic role of a town journalist in the historical society museum. Whether there is actually a demand for “old tyme journalism theater” or the whole thing is just a welfare program to keep Skippy fed, I don’t know.
Bill Thompson about 1 month ago
If everyone already knows what everyone else is doing, then everyone is automatically caught. Well, it’s good to hear Ink-a-dink-a-doo-doo talk himself out of business.
Kitty Queen about 1 month ago
Sounds like my hometown newspaper!
J.J. O'Malley about 1 month ago
“I hate to tell you, old man, but nowadays we have these things called smart phones and social media sites, so that people can get caught instantly without waiting for a newspaper to report it. Maybe I’d get more relevant career advice from yon village blacksmith.”
top cat james about 1 month ago
A pad and pencil? What is this, His Girl Friday ? Tomorrow, they’ll be speaking in rapid-fire patter and donning hats with a PRESS tag in the band.
wherescrankshaft about 1 month ago
“Everyone knows what everyone else is doing … unless they’re setting fire to a set of stairs in the middle of the night in order to protest a makeshift bookstore carrying a book that isn’t approved for sale at a school in a neighboring town. Then, nobody knows. Not the police, not us.”
J.J. O'Malley about 1 month ago
Look at the way Emily just sits, her hand never moving. Do you get the feeling that she’s not real and is simply a figment of the isolated and increasingly senescent Skip Bittman’s imagination? Will she next inspire him to start Centerville’s Fight Club?
David Lieb Premium Member about 1 month ago
Shades of Gamble Rogers!
Brian Perler Premium Member about 1 month ago
“Emily” looks more like a clothing store mannequin than an actual person. (Either that, or she’s completely blitzed out of her gourd. Which, to be fair, I wouldn’t blame her if that’s how she prepared to meet this dullard.)
Gent about 1 month ago
Oh yeah? So ya means everyone is knows the mysterious disappearance of Eugene over the lake? Does everyone already knows he drown in there and still no bothers gets the body outta there? Is that why you never bother to publeesh anytheengs about it in yours little newspaper? And if it that small a town they why you is needs so many school buses for cheeldrens? If it really that small then them kids coulda just walks to the only school you gots.
Trespassers W about 1 month ago
Monday: Generic Blonde appears and Skip welcomes her. Tuesday: Skip mentions casually that they are the only two in the building. Wednesday: Skip openly speculates whether he will get caught. Honestly, the creepiness factor of this week’s story is unnerving.
DawnQuinn1 about 1 month ago
The creepiness is the haters here. NOTHING creepier than them.
Crandlemire about 1 month ago
Emily sat quietly, her notebook balanced on her knee, listening to Mr. Rawlings talk about the town, the newspaper, and the joke he delivered with a crooked smile. “In Centerville,” he said, “everyone already knows what everyone else is doing. The job of the newspaper is to let them know if anyone gets caught.” He chuckled softly, but Emily saw the glint of something deeper in his eyes. Experience. Wisdom. Maybe a touch of sadness.
She scribbled the line down, not because it was funny, but because it captured something raw about this place and maybe even the world. Centerville was small, but the stories here weren’t. They were human stories—of people and the things they did when they thought no one was watching. Stories of truth and lies, of heartbreak and triumph, of the choices that shaped lives in ways big and small.
As Mr. Rawlings spoke, Emily began to understand the weight of the work he had done for decades. This wasn’t just about reporting facts; it was about finding the thread of meaning in a tangle of events and weaving it into something that mattered. Something that made people stop and think, maybe even feel.
“You know,” Rawlings said, leaning back in his chair, “this job—it’s not about the headlines. It’s not about getting your name in print or chasing fame. It’s about looking at the world as it is, with all its flaws and beauty, and telling the truth about it. Not everyone wants the truth. But the ones who do? They’re worth writing for.”
Emily nodded, her pen hovering over the page. She could feel it now, the calling she hadn’t fully realized before. The urge to write not just for herself, but for something larger. To capture the stories that mattered, the ones that revealed what it meant to be human.
As the afternoon light slanted through the window, Emily made a decision. She would do this. She would write. Because in a world filled with noise, someone had to find the meaning and give it voice. And maybe, just maybe, that someone could be her.
ladykat about 1 month ago
They should all obey the eleventh commandment.
James Lindley Premium Member about 1 month ago
I grew up in towns like that. Don’t forget the local sports teams. Everyone may already know, but they still want to see it in the local paper.
rockyridge1977 about 1 month ago
Well….if you do not get caught……..did you do it??
lemonbaskt about 1 month ago
did you know mary worth is preparing thanksgiving dinner again !!!! her food is TOPS
Irish53 about 1 month ago
Is she supposed to be a college journalism student? If so, she definitely drew the short straw for the class assignments.
[Unnamed Reader - 14b4ce] about 1 month ago
They’re waiting for when Cranky attempts to untangle the Christmas lights—-Page One laughs
be ware of eve hill about 1 month ago
Stories we’d like to see, but the cartoonist lacks the skill:
Best Actress Award Winner Les Moore sends Emily out on an alleged assignment to shadow Skip. He wants Emily to find out what Skip knows about the bookstore fires he set.
be ware of eve hill about 1 month ago
Why is Emily there without Amelia ? Did she lose the coin flip?
Or is twin sister Amelia the true loser who will have to shadow the mediocre cartoonist Batton Thomas in next week’s Crankshaft? (insert puke emoji)
ValancyCarmody Premium Member about 1 month ago
I occasionally buy the small local paper because it’s cheaper than paper towels for soaking up cooking grease. It mostly seems to be just high school sports scores, and obituaries.
gcarlson about 1 month ago
In “Bruno the Fishing Dog” Garrison Keillor said that the Herald Star wasn’t the news – it was just an index to the news.
mfrasca about 1 month ago
’Cause everybody knows the kind of life
That you’re bound to lead if it′s wrong or right
Everybody knows all about your share of ups and downs
Everybody knows everybody in this town
—Chicago Farmer
sincavage05 about 1 month ago
Had a small town paper where I grew up, it was a place of 5000 people. Came out once a week and they posted all the local drama. Don’t get caught driving wrong, shoplift, break curfew or any other 100 things. You’d end up on the pages of the Eagle. And they always made sure to include all salacious details.
puddleglum1066 about 1 month ago
I’m still sticking with my contention that there is no Stencherville Sentinel, and Skippy is actually just hired to cosplay the historic role of a town journalist in the historical society museum. Whether there is actually a demand for “old tyme journalism theater” or the whole thing is just a welfare program to keep Skippy fed, I don’t know.