Greetings from Frogtown

For those out of the cultural loop, Frogtown is a bedroom community within Cleveland ... Ga., home to one of our fair state's finest scribes, Candice Dyer (you'll recognize her byline from Atlanta magazine, among other publications). Candice and I first met as young cub reporters at The Times ... of Gainesville, where we fought like hillbillies over such choice assignments as the opening of the new Chik-Fil-A at the local mall. (Although I did always admire her spot-on Markie Post mullet, circa 1990).

We eventually dug our plowshares and became comrades. (That is, I stopped being threatened by her superior writing talent). So the Malcontent has decided, without approval, to designate itself as the official home of her mountain dispatches (journalese for a collection of some her late night E-mails that I've taken the liberty of posting).

*You know how P. Diddy held a press conference to announce the dropping of the "P"? My dyslexic granny (a hillbilly Yogi Berra) was watching the news and said, "Who is this D. Titty feller they keep talking about?"

*From the "What Would Jesus Do?" file: My cousin Virgil's boy was leading a prayer at school. Some smart-aleck secularist kept heckling him. So, after my little cousin said "Amen," he made a beeline for the heckler and beat the holy crap out of him.

*There is a classified ad in the local paper under "Services" that says, "Redneck for rent. Get your bushhogging done." There's another "help wanted" classified that a different cousin of mine ran for his fruit stand, in which he cautioned: "Lazy dopers need not apply."

Too bad about the fruit stand job, Candice.