Big Mike: Milo The Magnificent

My apologies to Monroe Anderson, but Milo Samardzija is Gary, Indiana‘s greatest writer.

Benny Jay‘s been leaning on Monroe for months now, trying to get him to become part of this Third City outfit. Between you and me, if Monroe does cave in and sign on, he’ll be Gary, Indiana’s greatest writer. Like I say, let’s keep this on the QT — there’s no need for us to ruffle Milo’s feathers. He has his moods, if you know what I mean.

Gary, Indiana’s Second Greatest Writer

So, yeah, nobody in Gary Indiana can write like Milo. His neighbors sometimes drop by just to see him put his pen to paper. Once, he brought his laptop, his pipe, and his mug out to the front porch. He pulled a chair up to a table and sat there looking deep in thought. He rested his chin in his hand and gazed at the computer screen for long, long moments. Soon, a crowd of people gathered on his front lawn.

They remained reverently silent, waiting — just waiting — for the great man to make a move. At last, he typed what appeared to the throng to be a brilliant string of mots. A woman gasped. Milo shot her a glare like the top gorilla keeping his harem in line. She clapped her hand over her mouth.

A few moments later, a stranger came up and asked one of the neighbors, What’s going on?

The neighbor turned on him. Shhhh, you fool! he hissed. He’s creating!

At this disturbance, Milo exhaled angrily. He petulantly tossed his glasses and his pipe on the table, stood up and disappeared into the house, muttering, How can I create in the midst of this din?

One of his more intrepid neighbors slowly climbed the stairs onto Milo’s porch. He squinted at Milo’s laptop screen, hoping to be the first to read the latest from the master’s fingertips. As he studied the sentence, first one, then another, and finally a half dozen neighbors joined him on the porch.

What is it? they asked. What did he write?

Quiet, please! the brave neighbor said. Listen. He cleared his throat and recited Milo’s latest words:

Dear sirs, My payment will be late this month due to unforeseen….

The neighbor looked up from the screen, dejected, and said, That’s as far as he got.

Damn, another man said. That could have been one of his masterworks!

Don’t worry, the first neighbor said, brightening. Nobody can write a letter to a creditor like our Milo can.

With that, the crowd launched into an impromptu rendition of For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow!

I only bring this all up because Milo sent me an email today. I wish there were a way to preserve the message permanently! Maybe I’ll simply leave the email on the screen and place my laptop on a pedestal so that everyone who comes into my house can see that I was once contacted by Gary, Indiana’s greatest writer.

Proof That Milo Has Contacted Me!

Here’s how his missive began:

Big Mike,

Is this man not a wordsmith? Such clarity! Such verbal virtuosity! Using only two words, he establishes a picture of me and indicates that what follows will be, essentially, of interest to me. Sigh.

He continues:

I just read your latest rant — it was wonderful.

Milo is a prince among men. His taste is sublime, his judgment impeccable. He was referring, of course, to my most recent Third City post, about the new breed of right wing pranksters who are risking life, limb and prison to protect this holy land from scourges such as universal health care and the terrorist cabals that call themselves “community organizations.” I must admit, I had let my emotions fly in describing how these conservative masturbants claim to be inspired by none other than Abbie Hoffman, my idol when I was a teenager.

Perhaps, I’d been thinking, I was a bit intemperate in my remarks. I did, after all, label a picture of one such prankster and his female cohort as a pimp and his whore. How, I wondered, might Gary, Indiana’s greatest writer respond to such self-indulgence? Milo’s email continued:

You should get angry more often.

There you have it. I now have the imprimatur of a literary titan to allow my rages to run wild. I honestly think I’m going to take Milo up on his advice. I’ve been pussy-footing around on this site for far too long. Oh sure, we’re successful. Benny Jay tells me we have a daily average readership in the high two figures. That’s a 1400 percent increase over last year at this time, a smash in any business. But now, yes now, I crave astronomical numbers.

The key to success in electronic media — be it television or the blog world — is to scream louder than the next guy. That’s what I’m gonna do from now on.

Heck, I think I’ll call more duos “a pimp and his whore.” Glenn Beck and Sarah Palin? A pimp and his whore. Natch. Mitch McConnell and John Boehner? A pimp and his whore. Hee hee — this is fun!

Using this strategy, I expect The Third City to reach the magic 150-daily-readers mark within six months. That’ll put us up there with the big boys, no?

Milo had a little bit more to say in his email, something about wondering if I had a spare C-note or two. I’ll have to parse the rest of the message at length. Isn’t he the most subtle humorist, though? Spare C-note — hah!

Yup, Milo Samardzija certainly is Gary, Indiana’s greatest writer (pending, of course, Benny Jay’s negotiations with Monroe Anderson. Shh.)

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