Dear Colleagues: With curious swiftness following the good news bestowed on my officemate of the last eight years, Mr. Brian Wilson (a.k.a “The New Sheriff,” “Big Dog,” “El Jefe,” or “Da Man”), quite a number of you have expressed interest in claiming his old digs. I am inclined to attribute this not to an innate covetousness of office space lodged within the soul of every corporate apparatchik, but, rather, to my own widespread — nay, universal — popularity. It’s a burden I have always sought to bear with appropriate grace and humility. It has not been clarified to me how much choice I will have in the matter, but given the widespread interest, I thought I might take this opportunity to provide some guidance. To wit, qualified applicants shall: 1. Worship The Beatles like the revolutionary genius gods they were and are (including Ringo). 2. Provide me with snacks (the ones I like, you know, with the smooth chocolatey outside and rich peanut buttery inside?). 3. Cede full and unyielding control to me over all four TV monitors, the 320 box, overhead lights, and iPod speaker. 4. Endure, without complaint or interruption, my lengthy and fatiguing discourses on Watergate, the ’69 Mets, “Peanuts,” the Third Reich and other well-trod historical subjects. 5. Not taunt or provoke me with disparaging remarks about McCartney’s solo career. 6. Be discreet about certain unmentionable matters (like that thing in L.A. I took care of for you). The desirability of said digs cannot be in doubt. The office is spacious, airy, conveniently located at the nexus of the “Weekend Live,” “Special Report,” and dot-com sections — just steps away from the kitchen, Metro, and Union Station shopping! — and, perhaps best of all, actually boasts that rare and precious accessory known as “a window.” Of course, if the new bureau chief decides, in his wisdom, which is paramount and all-seeing, that no one is fit to occupy the real estate he so singularly made his own over the last nine years, that, too, would be cool. As long as I get to keep his mini-fridge. I know all of you join me in wishing my ex-roommate (cue “Odd Couple” theme music here) the very best of success in his new duties. No more noogies. Yours sincerely, James (a.k.a “Barney Fife,” “Small Dog,” “El Nino,” or “Da Punk”)
Don’t tell Rosen, but we hear that “B-dawg” took his refrigerator with him.