I already have a credit gap, which means that I get a rainbow of notes each month from the Coop. At one point the Coop trusted me to pay my bills, and at one point people trusted me to call it as I saw it.

No more. I have become the archdemon of all things Mid-western.

Friends, and I use the term loosly (but imagine who keeps my company post-Duluth anyway, love to grab strange passersby and introduce me to them.

"Steve, Betsy, Arnold, Doofy, Daffy, Sneezy, this is Nick Wurf."

"Nick Worth....You're the guy that wrote that..."

"Nick," and here my friends always interupt, "Steve, Betsy, Arnold, Doofy, Daffy, and Sneezy are from Minnesota.

What am I to say.

I'm Sorry?

So if I tried to say Kalamazoo was a grand town (something, incidentally I am sure that it is), people would assume that I was joking.

And the only one who would end up looking like an ass is me.

Who wrote that piece about Kalamazoo? Nick Wurf.

There he goes again, mocking the Midwest.

He doesn't like anything, not anything from America's heartland, leastwise.

And since life isn't a Life cereal commercial, I have no chance for real redemption, to be filmed on Main Street Kalamazoo dancing and singing a musical invitation to come patronize the Kalamazoo commercial district.

So I'll hold my praise of Kalamazoo. I'm sure they'll thank me for it later.