One guy last week wrote I am "the voice of common sense." Then a lady wrote, the same day, "Dys -- You have no sense."
A woman came in The Herald and took my picture with her for her daughter's Christmas present. A guy here to pay his subscription bill said, "You look taller in the paper. And it doesn't take three hours to get to Clemson, either. Dummy."
Love notes and hate mail, irate calls and voice mails -- feedback from readers always greets me.
Here's a bit of what your fellow readers had to say about some recent columns:
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Readers from Columbia to North Carolina got all riled up about my column on the Rock Hill guy in cowboy boots who killed a boa or some other kind of constrictor snake that had wriggled into his clothes dryer. Countless people took the side of the snake.
I have never read a story where the headline screams: "Snake dies from man-bite!"
One guy wanted the snaked "exhumed" from its muddy grave to determine its exact species. Apparently, it is my fault, and the fault of these people who had a deadly snake in their house where their 1-year-old runs around, that the snake wasn't kept alive for more study. Ask Adam and Eve what happens when you give a snake a wide berth.
Another person left me a voice mail complaint that I described the snake as, "Like Yankees or liberals, not from 'round here." Said I was the worst kind of rabble-rouser, did this lady.
Well, I cannot deny I am rabble, and I rouse anybody worth a good poke. Yet, I used that wording because some angry readers call me a "yankee" and "liberal" and "not from 'round here" all the time.
So, I guess I roused myself.
Dys: The TV show?
Another guy wrote in after I gave blood and didn't scream in pain like a wimp: "I also really laughed when you rode your bike and walked to work this past summer ... love you or hate you, people will read. Seems you have a pretty colorful life. I'm just waiting on the A-Dys sitcom pilot!!! Could possibly be even more funny than Jerry Seinfeld."
"Loser!" -- the life of a 42-year-old guy with a wife, three daughters, and a mother-in-law, on allowance and direct deposit because he would spend the rent at the bar -- premieres next month, only on WJERK-TV.
Another guy wants me and him to do a TV panel show. Part sports, social commentary, whatever. Kind of like Letterman or one of those sports blowhard shows, only actually funny. He wrote that local TV "wouldn't know what to do with itself."
Football far, far away
I wondered in print this week why South Carolina would hold a state title football game between two Rock Hill schools separated by about 5 miles so far away at Clemson.
Some readers -- an e-mailer called them "Dys-haters" -- said I was a whiner.
By the time you read this, the last stragglers who went to the game Friday night might just be getting home.
Dys: The Movie?
I've gotten many calls, letters and e-mails about the publication of my first book, including one that said, "Can't wait for the movie." A pair of people wrote in that Burt Reynolds could play me, because I already had his old leather jacket.
Well, I could do worse than Burt. Before his hair fell out and he got old, Burt had a thick mustache, was a lady-killer and drove a black Trans Am all the while avoiding the cops and giggling.
He even wore a cowboy hat. His nickname was "The Bandit."
If I grow a mustache, I look like I'm 12. Ladies run from me on sight. I drive a 1991 beater with about 200,000 miles on it, and I have been passed on Interstate 77 by old ladies in wheelchairs.
I can see the marquee at Manchester Cinemas now: "Smoky and the Geezer."