Folks, please be on the lookout for a bass guitar that was taken during a burglary at my home recently. This bass is a viola-type, hollow body (think Paul McCartney, Hofner-type bass) painted green with a small spot on the back that was sanded down to the original wood. It was in a soft gig bag. I don’t have a picture, unfortunately, but really you can’t miss this if you see it. Very high sentimental value. If you happen to see it around please call the Duluth Police Department, or call me at 341-8175.

Anybody else notice a high amount of burglaries in Duluth lately? It seems that a lot of people I tell about this has a similar story of being burglarized recently.

Thanks,
Tony Derrick

I am asking all opinions on the state of literature today. Does it exist? Is there a difference between Literature and what most people read today (if they do happen to read).

It makes me sad that many men see reading as a “women’s” activity. Don’t we all appreciate a good story? Why is any novel that has an “Oprah” symbol on it now seen as weak fluff that is not suitable for men to read?

I hate buying books that have the movie cover on the book. Most of the time I have never even heard of a really good book until it is set to come out as a movie. Is that the only way books actually sell?

I am not sure if I will ever own an e-reader but I know I will never give up my books.

The pomp of musicians, and why we care
Jill Lawful
Associated Press

DULUTH–Poor Kristen Jacobs. She’s not just marrying a local singer. She’s marrying us all.

Once upon a time, Duluth citizens gazed upon their rock musicians from afar. Not any more.

Members of the band Sexhawk are now Hollywood-style mega-celebrities — their cellulite, receding hairlines and boozy nights out subject to the same relentless scrutiny as other A-listers.

(Story continued on page 4A with details about what kind of cake will be served at Hot Rod’s wedding. Look below the fold for a chart with important details like what time it will be in Abu Dhabi or Hong Kong when Hot Rod’s parents arrive at Sacred Heart.)

To bank tellers, store clerks and post-office-counter workers:

Don’t ask my children if they want candy. And while you’re at it, and even though it’s far more appropriate, don’t ask me, in front of the children, whether they may have candy.

If it were 1931 and candy were a rare treat I couldn’t afford, it might be cool to get free candy. But candy is cheap, and my children don’t need more.

My children are not deprived of sweets. We have baskets full of Easter candy, stockings full at Christmas, Valentine’s candy, birthday treats, and fat pillowcases at Halloween. I realize that another lollipop isn’t going to tip the scales. But the 13 grams of sugar and Red No. 40 aren’t the only issues; it’s also about the message it sends.

When my 6-year-old daughter slammed the minivan door on her fingers, and I took her to urgent care, I thanked the receptionist who asked me whether she could have a lollipop, and I gladly accepted. But when the children’s only accomplishment is standing in line to watch their mother buy stamps, they don’t need a treat for that. I don’t want them thinking that candy is something you eat all the time. I don’t want them eating treats that, seconds ago, they were fine without, but now that it has fallen in their laps, they suddenly want.

Candy-givers, I know you mean well. But you risk taking well-behaved, happy children and turning them into crabby children on a sugar rush, or discontented children who feel like they’re missing out because mom said no to the free sugar.

The ubiquitous candy bowls and offers of treats are wearing on me. Please, make it stop.