Best Of Grizzard: Pulitzer Prize

There is a Pulitzer Prize winning author (Ed Larson) coming to Dayton, Tn., on July 16, to participate in a symposium on the 100^th Celebration of the world famous “Monkey Trial” (State of Tennessee v. John T. Scopes).

It therefore seems appropriate to re-publish an article by a fellow successful author who unfortunately did not win the coveted award but did sell a few million copies of his humorous works and sometimes cynical approach to life in his 47 years (1947-1994) in the Deep South.

In “It Wasn’t Always Easy, but I Sure Had Fun” (1994- Villard Books- New York) Lewis Grizzard, Jr. in his literary contribution to his reading audience in over 450 newspapers and 25 Best Sellers in his last effort “for Americans to keep their sense of humor,” where he often “railed against political correctness.”

With no disrespect towards any recipient of said award his thoughts follow:

“They handed out the annual Pulitzer Prizes, journalism's highest awards, the other day, and once again I didn't get one.

It's becoming an all-too-familiar occurrence. Each year, I call my friends over, we ice down the beer and await the word from the Pulitzer committee.

Word never comes, but my friends drink all the beer I bought, anyway. How two people can drink that much beer is beyond me. It's not like I haven't done anything to deserve the award.

Twice last year, I wrote columns while suffering from a terrible hangover, and my crack investigative abilities enabled me to break a story that Colonel Oliver North and Indiana basketball coach Bobby Knight may be the same person.

The fact that I had never seen them photographed together was my first hint.

There were also columns that served the public interest. I was the person who first suggested that the surgeon general put out the word that smoking causes AIDS.

Smokers obviously aren't afraid of lung cancer, heart disease, emphysema or complications in pregnancy.

But threaten them with AIDS and, I firmly believe, that would pretty much do it for the habit of smoking.

And let us not forget my incisive piece that asked, "Will those oxygen masks really fall out in front of your face in an air- plane in case there is a loss of cabin pressure?" Have you ever seen those oxygen masks do so? Do you know anybody who has?

I rest my case. And what about my biting commentaries?

What other journalist last year questioned whether or not an alligator can outrun a duckbill platypus?

Or who wondered why Jesse Jackson's forehead is so big and always seems to be perspiring?

Or why service stations keep their cash registers open and lock their bathrooms?

And what about the story I broke that Vanna White flunked spelling in the fourth grade?

Or that Johnny Carson lost his ability to speak eleven years ago? Or the fact that Ed McMahon is one of the world's most accomplished ventriloquists?

And what about my twenty-six-part series of columns that asked: "Turning right on red: friend or foe?"

Also, there's the fact that I could put the $3,000 that comes with the Pulitzer Prize to a lot of good uses. I need a new set of tires, the icemaker in my refrigerator is busted, I owe a couple of hundred from the gin game the other night, and I'm in desper- ate need of some new undershorts.

I suppose I'm so sensitive about not winning the Pulitzer again because it brings back the memories of never getting the pony I wanted for Christmas, the trip to Europe after gradua- tion, or a date with the redheaded cheerleader.

Still, there's always next year and another round of Pulitzers I can wait. I just hope my undershorts can, too.”

(Unfortunately the Pulitzer Pickers have never created a specific category dedicated solely to “humor” books.

As Lewis G. would probably have stated, some 1000 page novels would put you sleep better than sleeping pills.

Disclaimer: Not “Summer of the Gods,” as it is worth the purchase pertaining to the Monkey Trial!)