Folks, you just can’t make this stuff up. Those of you who are regular readers of what I write — and that number is rumored to be in the high teens now — might recall my run-in last year with the good folks who run the Tavistock Cup, the made-for-TV battle of gated communities. I went to cover the faux competition and they told me I had to wear either a Lake Nona Blue or an Isleworth Red shirt. I explained that as a working journalist I found it a conflict to be a billboard for their high-priced housing developments, and declined to attend under those conditions.
Well now, memories are short. Here’s the email that bounded into my inbox on Valentine’s Day, complete with my translation of what was actually being said in parentheses:
(Greetings you ink-stained wretch we nevertheless need for free publicity.)
Hope this email finds you well.
(Sorry to hear the …