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.

In honor of all my brothers and sisters in paranoia out there . . .

All this talk about “Internet security,” “scams,” “rip-offs,” “Ponzi schemes” and “Fonzi schemes” (linked to reruns of a 50s TV show) have me thinking of a society to which I proudly deny having anything with which to do.

I’m alluding, hypothetically enough, to the Professional Society of Social Traumatics, or PSST. This is a society that is so secretive, we consider the Skull & Bones to be “a bunch of blabber mouths.” Indeed, in the 25 years that I have possibly been a member, to my knowledge there has only been one meeting, owing to various feints, reschedulings and last-minute cancellations.

The one meeting that I may or may not have attended broke down intochaos, when a rumor hit that a mole had invaded the Mole Committee.

Without giving away too much, I will share with you some of the appropriate highlights of the PSST Handbook, which may (or may not) help you in safe-guarding your holdings, your public persona, your private person and even your the identities of your imaginary friends. 

Random thoughts from an under-used mind:

•Isn’t it odd that Ocean Shores City Council has three seats coming up for election this year, and only four people filed, with two races unopposed?

What kind of way to sell newspapers is that?

I considered filing myself, but then I realized I’d probably end up claiming I misquoted myself.

•If this lack of candidates trend continues, Ocean Shores might consider picking its council representatives in a lottery.

Kind of like jury duty.

A Day in the Life of a Small-Town Newspaper Editor:

8:15 a.m. In the office. Read email from police about Porthole Pub employee arrested for embezzling $80,000.

9:30 a.m. Breakfast at Pirates Cove with a citizen who is furious (his face was pretty red, although it could be sun burn) about the Street LID costing some 25 percent more than originally advertised; somewhere along the way interest wasn’t factored in. A councilman joins us; he and the citizen have a spirited discussion/debate. They don’t agree on much, except coffee.

10:40 a.m. Phone interview with Detective Chris Iversen, re the embezzlement. He can’t say too much, but adds some details about his

Ocean Shores is lowering speed limits, starting June 22. (See next post.)

While they’re at it, here are some other laws and fines that should go on the books:

•Delay of Turn Signal. Technically, you’re following the existing laws, if you throw the turn signal on just before turning. But what are you saying? “Ha ha, fooled you! Now you can’t turn in front of me!” Or is it “I’m such a random person, I could turn at any moment – beware!”? Either way, you should be fined, $15 per offense.

•Manufacture of a Rumor With Intent to Tell. Small-town gossip may sound like a harmless way to pass the time, but it can lead to greater crimes, such as snobbery, innuendo and even snarking. First offense, soap mouthwash. Second offense: the stocks (in the middle of the new Roundabout?).

•DUI (Dialing Under the Influence). “Shy shush shwanna shay shy shove shoo!” Punishment: No beer for a week.

(In which your local editor/columnist gets high on North Beach life. WARNING: Those sensitive to oblique allusions and/or hometown cheerleading should turn back, here.)

Over at the groundbreaking of the new “Garden by the Sea” community patch the other day, there was a certain something wafting in the air, and it wasn’t just the grilled hot dogs (tantalizing as that was).

The bracing breeze coming in off the ocean also carried a certain invigorating scent. It smelled like optimism, to me.

A new community garden itself is an uplifting thing, the idea of folks from all parts of Ocean Shores coming together to work the ground, side by side. “Well, look who it is. How’re things done at the Jetty?” “Oh, tourist season’s starting early, but can’t complain. How’s everything on the lake?”

Seeds of hope, roots of relationships, etc.

But this is more than just a new garden, this intoxicating aroma seems to be over the entire North Beach, suddenly wearing a “come hither” perfume.