I'm relatively new to this whole reporting aspect of the "newspapering" world, so was a bit surprised to find that there are just some things you cannot print.

Finally, a gentlemen is born.  Well, I know there are real gentlemen out there, but sometimes we take them for granted. It seems guys just can't win in our society.

     Iowa State University women’s basketball coach Bill Fennelly, according to an article in last week’s ESPN The Magazine, is a homophobe because he used the F-word.

       "What’s wrong, Mr. Close? Don’t you believe in free speech?"      It took a while for me to understand what the comment sender was saying.

       Put yourself in the shoes – actually in the black government-issue work boots – of any of the 250 or so people who saw Vinton, Iowa, for the first time yesterday.

Sometimes we get so used to all the features of the Vinton Today website, that we forget to mention once in a while other things we have going on as part of the site.

   Somewhere a soldier Sits drinking his Folger's And wondering what words would rhyme With "desert" and "sandstorm" And "al-Muqdadiya" And he hopes his mail gets home on time   The green-helmeted Packer Feels instead like a slacker When for his wife he writes a new song to sing He's attempting to show her He's still a romantic feller Though he wears that huge Super Bowl ring   Brain-tired and weary The writer will fear he Has nothing new or inspiring to say But he'll still sit at his desk As his scattered mind frets Over saying "love" in an original way   The bloke and the gringo From Pedro to Ringo Face the same formidable chore Of experiencing their umpteenth February Fourteenth While feeling unable to say more Than "I love you my dear Even more than last year" Without sounding like a terrible bore   One guy decides it's too hard So he will look for a card That expresses his love for her better Than he thinks that he could (Although she wishes he would) By simply just writing a letter   Men can compose eloquent phrases To describe NASCAR races Who won and why we can explain But putting feelings into words Is worse than 200 mph curves In Indianapolis in heavy rain So in Love Letter races It's time that we face it - Most will never reach Victory Lane   Some men, at wit's end, Will decide not to pen Their lady some lame-sounding jingle They exclaim with a sigh "Now, I finally figured why That Saint Valentine dude died while still single.

       Comments from my flock of column readers – assuming, of course, that two constitutes a “flock” – indicate that I did not write nearly enough words about writing too many words.

       Several people in the past three years have offered advice about what I should do with this space.      Those who have not suggested using this page to line bird cages or finding someone with something worth reading to fill this column have all expressed the same thing.

       I was sitting in a waiting room a while ago when I found proof that, yes, indeed, there is such a thing as a stupid question.