Trying to make my way through the bewildering number of e-mails that have stacked up while I was out, and I run across this one, which says it’s from Kathleen Parker, and has me totally befuddled at first — why would Kathleen Parker (the only I’m accustomed to hearing from occasionally, and whose messages I read with great interest) be telling me about such things as this?
We have an update on this situation.
The problems with the Bowl Pick’em were due to an oversight in the application that was not obvious when used by only a few sites, or just one site as the code was originally designed for. The duplicate entries were actually created when a reader entered the contest on multiple sites. For now, we have deactivated the duplicate entries and the results should be available to be displayed now. The longer term solution of how to associate the multiple entries with each of the sites that the reader submitted them on is still under investigation.
But then I get to the virtual signature:
Kathleen Parker
McClatchy Interactive Customer Support
I keep getting messages from these folks at McClatchy Interactive because I have access to the guts of thestate.com. I have yet to receive a single one that told me anything I needed to know, yet my half-hearted efforts to get off this mailing list have been unsuccessful.
Do you suppose it would be advisable for me to suggest that this Kathleen Parker change her name, to keep me from wasting time reading these messages? I suspect she might take it amiss. So I’m trapped.
Oh, well. Another one to delete, just not as quickly as I’d like.
I just posted this to give y’all an idea of how I really, truly spend a good part of my day — not writing about the issues of importance to the world, but filtering through stuff that doesn’t concern me, but for one reason or another is difficult to ignore entirely. Sigh.
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It’s a sign Brad. You need to discover your inner football fan. Your life would be so much happier and fulfilling if you did.
But I have discovered my inner football fan. Fortunately, he makes up a fairly stunted, marginal part of me, and is only visible in the presence of high-definition. No danger of that at my house any time soon.
Brad … give my best to Our Kathleen when you see her. We worked as reporters together back in the day at the Charleston Newsless Courier, when she was just Kathleen Connor covering Joe Riley’s first term of mayor, and I was a cub trying to get by on reporter pay of $110 a week.