Letter To This Summer's HSO Intern

We received this letter from Miss Clark, 2005 summer intern for thed HSO, and she asked if we would published for this summer's intern. You'll recall that last summer Ms. Clark uncovered a vast conspiracy that has captivated at least six of the thousands of people living in the quite St. Croix river valley. The six people are all members of Internet blog group know as the On The Border Line Six. The six prefer the name 6OTBL'ers, because they have a real hard time coherently putting together a six word sentence with out inserting the names Ludiwg von Mises or Ayn Rand.

Clark's investigative reporting brought her in contact with gnostic cults, Egyptian sun worshippers, UFOs, the Rothschild banking firm, Pat Robertson, the Ku Klux Klan and two guys who left the school board meeting early. Her efforts to bring the facts of this story to light brought her ridicule and scorn from a tremendous number of members of the sleepy village of Hudson -- at least six of them anyways. What follows is Miss Clark letter to the new intern to help that person understand what awaits them and to hopefully put an end to the rumors and gossip that has permeated the valley like skunk odor.

Dear 2006 HSO Intern:

When I first arrived in Hudson to start my internship at the HSO, I felt scared and almost like an innocent lost sheep. But the valley is so beautiful and the people -- all but six of them -- were so friendly, I knew my internship would be a fun, learning experience and would be an important building block to help me in my journalism career.

After finding an apartment that would take me and my little dog too, I unpacked my things and reported to the HSO office to start my internship. Even though I had an up-to-date road atlas, I quickly realized that I wasn't in Kansas anymore...



I know people think that a glamorous job little being a summer intern at the HSO must pay billions of dollars, but that's not the case. By the end of the summer I had learned that trying to get an extra dollar from the Holy Scared Oracle management team is probably almost as hard as it is to get a tax dollar from an OTBL'er. In fact, I quickly learned that they expected me to get hopping right away and my pay would keep me a vegetarian throughout the summer.

Right off the bat, Meg, the veteran reporter, took me under her wing and filled me in on the details of life in the valley. The way she explained things was so enchanting. See told me, if I ever had problems, just go down on Second St., look the the West and go hit happy hour at Dick's. When I asked what good that would do, she smiled and said it was a hell of a lot better that closing your eyes, clicking your Nike's together and hoping to wake up in Kansas. I would soon find out that she was correct. And of course, all the staff at the HSO were so helpful: Doug, Maggie, everybody and even old Willis -- and he's so old he squeaks worse that the Tin Man!

After the school board exit, the borderline monkeys went ape poop and tore the stuffing out of many good citizens. This behavior
continued right on through the school board elections. For the most part, the borderline bloggers had a total melt down and didn't know witch end was up. After the school board meetings, when I went back to the office to type up my story on the meeting, I made up so really interesting lyrics for a Johnny Paycheck song. I retitled the song "Duct Tape This Job And Stick It." By nature I shy, so you'll have to take my word that the words get really good about three hours into Dick's Happy Hour.

The usually international intrigue surrounding the city-school-police Gordian triangle of community conspiracy continued to dominate school board politics as city workers continued to pick up signs to close to the road. After their school board candidate disappeared on the vote-count radar screen, the borderlines continued to be silent about the antics of the President they supported so vigorously. Now are positioning themselves to eat their own. They have started bashing the G-O-Pee Party and local elected state officials Kitty Litter and Shifty Shelia.

So remember dear 2006 HSO intern, the most important tip I can give you on surviving your sentence at the HSO is to remember that Happy Hour at Dick's begins at 5 PM. If you're like me, you will switch to the public relations track in your journalism school next Fall semester.

Sincerely,
Miss Clark

PS: "Love" isn't the four-letter word that comes into my mind when I'm think on the borderline.