Timmons Retiring? He Has A Plan

This is my final column. I am sure I will miss writing, and I hope that the eight or nine of you who regularly read these scribblings miss it, too . . . at least a little bit.

And before anyone gets any wrong impressions, no, the Journal-Review did not hire me away. Oh, they could try but after what happened with their building falling in, well, I’d be a tad worried. I’m funny that way.

The plain and simple truth is; I plan to retire from newspapers. Today. I’ll also share that this isn’t a result of my genius investing strategies. I’ve got no rich relatives who have recently left me a small (or large) fortune. And we didn’t sell out to the aforementioned competition – heck, they couldn’t maintain a building; you think they have cash to buy us? C’mon!

No dear friends, this is way better than all that. This, I might boast, is an idea that appeared like a 40-watt light bulb over my head.

I’m changing how I identify!

Actually, a friend sent me the idea via e-mail. I didn’t bother to read the whole thing, because after the first couple of lines I could see how this concept changes everything. And because you have been loyal readers and so kind, I am happy to share this with you. Just know that as soon as I write the next few graphs I’m getting started. I’ll finish the column as soon as the plan starts coming together. For now, here’s the scoop.

We all know the world is changing . . . has changed. We live in times now where there no longer exists one truth. Yeah, yeah, I know. You and I grew up going to Sunday School and listening to Mom and Dad and all our elders telling us to be good, make right choices. They told us the difference between right and wrong, good and evil. They taught us to be truthful and that liars were bad people.

Good news – that’s all gone! Everyone can now have their own truth! What a great concept! I only wish we knew that before one of those many times mom made me march out in the back yard and get my own switch off the tree!

But wait, that’s not all – not even the most important part. I get to choose how I identify myself!

What a game changer. Before this struck, I was an aging fat guy with a heart condition. Now, I choose to identify as a younger, slimmer version of myself with a healthy heart!

And that’s just the start. I have always loved baseball. As soon as I get off the phone with a scout, I choose to identify as the starting shortstop for the Pittsburgh Pirates. Sorry Tucupita Marcano – if women don’t mind men taking over their sport I am sure you can understand me taking your job.

Lastly, I know the Pirates are going to pay me a boatload of money – after all the Major League minimum salary is $417,000 – a measly $8,019 per week or $200.48 per hour. (You’re starting to see why I’m retiring from the newspaper gig now, right?)

However, I’m not sure when I’ll get that first paycheck from the Pirates, so I’m heading now to the bank to tell them I identify myself as a multi-millionaire so that I can take a significant withdrawal from my new bank account.

See, I told you I would share – and now you are probably already thinking of the changes you want to make in your life. Isn’t this great! So, I’m heading out and will finish this column up when I get back. I’ll also share the good news of how everything came together.

* * *

WELL, THAT COULD not have gone worse.

I started with my heart doc. Called the office and told them I was canceling the checkup because there was no need with my new self-identification. The nurse asked a lot of questions and ultimately said that after my appointment – which she assured me I WOULD be coming in for – they had another nice doctor who would want to talk to me about some sort of psych evaluation.

I assumed I caught her on a bad day.

When I called the Pirates, I really had trouble getting anyone who could sign me to a contract on the phone. Again, it did not go at all like I expected. They in polite terms told me they could not imagine a

65-year-old fat guy being able to play one inning of Major League Baseball, let alone a game. I kept trying to explain that I no longer identified as that guy. They were actually laughing as they hung up.

I wasn’t sure if I was frustrated or angry – I just knew that these plans weren’t coming together like I hoped.

I headed to the bank. Talk about not going well. The teller quickly called for a manager and that manager took me by the arm and gently led me to the door . . . all the while asking if this was an elaborate joke or if there was a hidden camera somewhere.

I offered my best assurances that I was very serious and truly identified myself as a multi-millionaire. She just smiled a little nervously, thanked me for coming in and closed the door behind me – and locked it.

I don’t get it. Others get to self-identify. What am I missing?

Until I can figure it out I guess I’ll keep writing. See you next week.

-Two cents, which is about how much Timmons said his columns are worth, appears periodically on Wednesdays in The Paper. Timmons is the publisher of The Paper and can be contacted at [email protected].