Our local, mild-mannered super reporterBy: Robin Enos and John Downs
Regular readers of the Auburn Journal may have noticed recently that intrepid, seemingly mild mannered Gus Thomson appears to be everywhere. Not only a large percentage of the news stories have been penned by Gus but he has recently been doing a spot Thursdays at noon on KAHI radio. How does he do it? It turns out Gus has been keeping a secret. Last week, quite by accident I discovered what Gus has not disclosed and I am going to reveal it now. There I was sitting on the rock bench constructed by Leadership Auburn in 2008 in the parking lot outside Depoe Bay Coffee Roasters. I was mostly wondering why I couldn’t have been born rich and pretty. While I was deep in thought, Gus walked up and was engaging me in conversation. During that conversation he noticed a pile of dog poop next to the Sycamore tree’s trunk. Turning to me he said; “It would be nice if some upright concerned citizen would pick that dog doo-doo up.” Yes boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, he called it dog doo-doo. With a glare, I asked him; “Do I look like an upright citizen, concerned or otherwise?” No, Gus said sadly, then he suddenly spun around and ran into the little bus shelter. He reappeared after a moment dressed in blue tights, a red cape with a large white G emblazoned on his chest. He dashed back, ripped open the Sacramento News & Review paper box, took the top copy and used it as a napkin to pick up the offending pile and deposited it into the trash can. Personally, I would have put it back in that paper box where it belongs but hey, that’s just me. Once he had cleaned up the mess he went to the edge of the sidewalk, extended his right hand upwards, shouted “Up, up and away!” and leaped straight into the sky. Unfortunately he misjudged his trajectory and smacked headlong into one of the Sycamore’s lower branches, went ass over teakettle and wound up flat on his back in the middle of the street. Shaken but undeterred he got up, checked to see if anything was broken then once again leaped skyward and gained the top of the Auburn Journal building in a single bound. Jerry Kopp, who has recently quit smoking — for good this time — was out in front of his Uptown Signs shop mooching cigarettes off of unsuspecting passersby, looked up and exclaimed: “Look! Up in the sky! It’s a bird! It’s a plane!” No Jerry, that’s SuperGus. Standing on the roof in that superhero stance, arms folded, cape waving gently in the breeze, there was no doubt. With tears as big as horse apples running down my cheeks I realized that never again would a helpless kitten be stuck in a tree or some errant doggy doo go ignored. Yes gentile readers it’s true. Auburn has its very own superhero. Gotham, eat your heart out.
Speaking of treed kittens and doggie doo doo, I haven’t seen much of the Pirate since he returned home from his trip and found his house had been sold to some cult or religious order, maybe even the Canadian Doukhobors. I know he’s still around somewhere; there have been sightings. His travel trailer was seen parked at the Portuguese Hall in Newcastle, in the parking lot behind city hall and several other locations so maybe he can fill us in.
Janice, Turner and I have been back from our spectacular two-month road trip through the southwest and midwest since about mid-June. It’s another one of our road trips for us to reminisce about for months to come. We, as some of you have already read about, arrived home to find our home sold by those pesky and repugnant four: Bloody Parrot, his cousin Nigel, Norris P. Thermador III and Harley Ridgecracker. You might ask how’d they do that? Well they’re that surreptitious! So we’re still in our fifth-wheel trailer until I get a bird catcher to cage those two bunco birds and Jimmy O’Leary, a former Agnew’s State Hospital attendant to get those two disbarred attorneys into straight jackets, which by the way are both “Mad as a March Hare.” Those of you that missed the last column or two, those four sold our home while we were gone. It appears the bunch that “allegedly” bought the house are Buddha wannabes with my mother-in-law as the lead Mau-Mau. My Mother-in-law was the one that Ernie K-Doe wrote about in 1961. Here’s a couple of lines from the song: “She worries me so, If she’d leave us alone, We would have a happy home, Sent from down below, Mother-in-law, Mother-in-Law.” In the meantime, we live on the dark side of Newcastle. It seems to me there’s a verse in the Bible that states “the meek shall inherit the fifth-wheel.” Such a chaotic time since arriving home. Oh, lest I forget to tell you of this little incident on top of everything else. Turner, a wire-haired terrier mix and a rescue from Placer SPCA Roseville whom we’ve had for four months is a victim of the brainwashing by Bloody Parrot. Turner now thinks he’s a parrot or hawk or some kind of bird! He climbs oak trees and perches like a bird and will only come down when I leave a trail of Roudybush Tuscan Recipe Treats. Guess who’s favorite food that is? Janice is so pissed.
“There are three kinds of men. The one that learns by reading. The few who learn by observation. The rest of them have to pee on the eclectic fence for themselves.” —Will Rogers\
Don’t forget to catch our Newcastle Television Show every Saturday at 10 a.m. on FM104.5 and AM950 KAHI and Super Gus’s show on Thursdays at noon.