Tell Laura I Love Her
The Twin Cities’ own Newlyweds are at it again. A few days ago I publicized the thinly veiled overtures being sent from Laura Billings to her husband Nick Coleman in the pages of the Pioneer Press. As I mentioned then, it was kind of/sort of romantic, if embarrassingly unprofessional.
I further speculated that perhaps Nick Coleman would respond in kind, from the pages of the Star Tribune. But I didn’t believe such a cynical, hardened by the streets (of Crocus Hill), and just plain old newspaperman as he would do it. But, I was wrong. His most recent partisan political hack attack on Governor Pawlenty is entitled “Forget the Politics, Plow the Snow” (imagine that, a liberal who believes his partisanship is entirely objective in nature). And when he’s not using his talent for understated, factual reporting by describing his morning commute, as ....
“...a nightmarish eternity of slush, dead stops and careening cars.”
and
...there was nothing natural about the mess that resulted. That kind of hell has to be man-made.
... he’s attempting to kiss up to his wife, Laura Billings. Perhaps he forgot to take the garbage out again or he left his teeth in her favorite coffee cup, but in the middle of his attempts to make us laugh and cry, we get this little melodrama:
Minnesotans don't think about whether they are DFLers or Republicans when they are driving on snow-covered roads. They think about when -- and if -- they'll get to see their families again. If you don't believe me, you should have ridden shotgun with me last Friday while I prayed for survival on a drive from St. Paul to Monticello
In his darkest hour (at least that morning, since his existence appears to be full of dark hours), Nick Coleman was thinking about this family. Which most prominently features his brand new wife I’m sure. And he’s sending that message to her in the plain sight of all the lucky Star Tribune readers. Everyone together now - “awwww.”
He should have stopped right there. The quid pro quo for warm fuzzies has been fulfilled and you’d think we could all go back to our lives of nightmarish commutes to Monticello and weeping over the homeless not being allowed in the Ice Palace. But no, we’re treated to yet another insight into the home life of our favorite co-habitating, co-publishing, belicose Twin Citizens:
A stunned-looking man in the driver's seat was talking on a cell phone, probably telling someone he was lucky to be alive. I felt the same way: If I'd been two minutes earlier, he might have killed me. And if it had come to that, my survivors wouldn't care what party he belonged to. Only what insurance company.
In the event of his untimely demise, he claims all his wife will care about is the money? Now that’s cold. I don’t want to take this amateur psychologist thing too far, but is he revealing that he thinks his wife is a heartless gold digger? Does he think, maybe on a subconscious level, that she only married him for his status as a high-salaried, independently wealthy newspaper columnist?
I’m not sure about that one. But if true, it will be fascinating to see how Laura Billings works in a response to it in a column about how people from the suburbs shouldn’t shop on Grand Avenue. Stay tuned.
No comments:
Post a Comment