The sports star apology once was a deeply humiliating event, for all involved. How the mighty has fallen!
Now, we’ve become accustomed to the press conference to boo-hoo over wild promiscuity, abuse of steroids and recreational drugs, or just random crime sprees.
Most recently, it was golf mega-star Tiger Woods (who, apparently, became confused and believed he was part of the Professional Girlfriends Association), before him retired baseball slugger Mark McGwire (“Um, remember those home runs I hit from here to Canada? Surprise: steroids.”). Football and basketball players, boxers . . . name any sport, and you’ll find a disgraced hero, sniffling at the microphone.

For those sure to follow, here’s an all-in-one guide that, with slight modifications, can work for any sports hero who needs to do a little explaining:

“First of all, I’d like to say that, because certain crime investigations may or may not be ongoing, I can’t go into details or answer questions.

“We cheat tourists and drunks,” promises a sign at Pat O’Shea’s Mad Hatter, an Irish bar in San Francisco.
Perhaps Ocean Shores should keep this in mind, when trying to solve the city’s woeful budget problems. Not so much that part about drunks, as they tend to have empty wallets; the tourists, that’s the treasure chest that Ocean Shores should be looting.
Here’s a few “think outside the box” (and, quite possibly, “think outside the law”) ideas to invite our visitors to help pick up the city’s operating tab:

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The recent Locals Only column on “A Cozy Fire in 1,000 Easy Steps” led to a note of caution from a reader: some (expletive) around the North Beach sold “firewood” that turned out to be driftwood. “Unfortunately, it was not green (wet) from being recently harvested, but wet and salty from spending months in the ocean.  I can think of no quicker way to end the life of a stove and metal chimney than simultaneously introducing salt and steam to their interior.  Nonetheless, some wood-seller in your community is taking advantage of those who know no better.”

Here is the column, which was roughly 3 percent helpful, 66 percent obtuse and 100 percent great kindling:
Today’s column will tell you everything you need to know about fireplaces and wood burning stoves, two

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Recent events of a highly personal nature lead me to believe that, not only is there “no free lunch,” a gratuity is expected, to boot.
My adventure begins at a chain store, where I am seduced by the concept of “0 percent interest.” This is the best offer, ever! I love it, drooling at the thought of

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And my wife has the nerve to call me “wishy washy” . . .

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If newspapers covered all aspects of high school like they do Sports:

School is back in this week at Winthrop J. Honeybear High School, and that can only mean one thing: high grades.

Pencil sharpeners will be whirring, calculators crackling, computers used for research and research only again this academic year.

Forty-five returning Honor Roll students will attempt to make the leap to High Honor Roll. These kids are the likes of Jimmy Paprika, who spent the summer writing essays . . . in Latin. Go get em, Jimmy.

The Honeybear Bears are again led by Jean, Gene and Jon Onwardson, the triplets that had the whole state buzzing, last WASL season. Jon had a perfect score in Writing, Gene was 100 percent on Reading and Jean aced the Math portion. College recruiters from Harvard, Yale and M.I.T. have practically been camping out at the family home. And these kids are only juniors! Principal Evelyn Sniflin has high hopes for “the trips,” as they are known: “I really think one or two of them, if not all, could go all the way . . . to NASA!”

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No wonder: the Onwardsons have already designed and launched a working “mini-Space Station,” a football-shaped satellite that runs on paperclips, rubber bands and one AAA battery. 

The Drama Department is “giddy with excitement,” says Director J.M. Ivanov, over incoming ninth grade Gennifer Stallone. (No relation to the movie star.)

Note: a reader stopped by yesterday to shake my hand and say “welcome to the club”; he has also been “scrubbed” by the Mayor.

Last Wednesday at just after 4 p.m., a familiar City of Ocean Shores SUV drove into the North Coast News parking lot. Mayor Dean Bunkers got out of the vehicle, walked into my office, made a little small talk and proceeded to wire brush me.

“Wire brush” is a term I picked up from him, a military term for getting chewed out by a superior.

Bunkers was upset (to put it mildly) about a “Guest Editorial” by Al Lizakowski, which appeared on this Opinion page last week. Lizakowski insisted that Ocean Shores tax payers are being unfairly burdened, as it is, and that the City’s proposed 50 cent per thousand EMS levy is a rotten idea.

Bunkers, in an hour-long, one-sided meeting: demanded to know my code of ethics; said the Lizakowski piece was filled with errors and misstatements; wanted to know what expertise Guest Editorial writers must have; and insisted I should have made it known that Lizakowski is a part-time Ocean Shores resident who does not vote here.

And how about a smiley face in the middle of the thing?

“Why are people so friendly here?” my visiting brother-in-law recently asked me.

Indeed, aside from City Council meetings, folks around here do tend to be quite friendly. They are so affable that they don’t just embrace visitors and each other; no, these local North Beachers organize, and befriend all sorts of things.

There’s the Friends of the Library, Friends of the Clinic, Friends of the Beach and Citizens for Balanced Growth; I like to think of them as “Friends of the Weatherwax.”

With this in mind, I would like to start a new group:

Friends of the Roundabout.

I know, I know, some people think a no-stop traffic circle at Chance a la Mer and Point Brown Avenue is the worst idea City Council has ever approved. I disagree, with three words: ozone water treatment.

Warning: The Surgeon General has deemed the following irrelevant, with dangerously high saccharine levels:

Recently, we’ve noticed a disturbing trend: Internet, replacing real life.

Rather than romping on the beach, going for long walks, or just simply playing in the back yard, more and more dogs are huddled over their computers, trading lingo-filled “bdogs” and generally wasting hours at Web sites like Facebark, Twoofer and Mycouch.

For instance, on Mycouch, Sparky’s profile page has wallpaperof paws and fire hydrants.

We see his profile:

Status: So single!

Here for: Networking, friends, romance, “just sniffin’”

Hometown: ???

Body type: Athletic

Ethnicity: Spaniel/Lab mix

In which the local Editor, who clearly has been sniffing too much fresh LID asphalt, attempts to dissect the Art of Arguing:

Here follows a methodology to achieve a “100 percent success rate,” when engaged in emotional discussion (i.e., argument) with your spouse or loved one.

Better put, this column will prove how to win every argument with your spouse and loved one.

. . . No, that’s not it, either. Let’s try: Here’s how to consistently get the better of your spouse and/or loved one.

First we must ask ourselves: What, exactly, is an argument?

To which we answer: Oh, everybody knows what an argument is, you idiot!

See? You’re falling into the trap, already.