As Dave Barry often writes, I am not making this up....

I posted a comment on Colin McEnroe's blog yesterday. He'd linked his readers to a story about folks sending shit through the mail. Not the kind of shit I wrote back in my advertising copywriting days, the crap we stuck in direct mail envelopes. Poo poo. Genuine #2. The real McCrap. That's what folks are sending. True story.

I commented. Said what I just said about me writing crap and sending the shit to unsuspecting direct mail victims. Back when I was a copywriter in Hartford, Connecticut. Said this story Colin linked us to is nothing new. Same old shit.

This morning I get up. Perform the A.M. ritual. The three S thing. Shave. Shower. Sit ( Down and read the morning paper ).

Before I sit down and read the morning paper, I have to walk down the driveway and pick up the papers. They're out there every morning, in plastic bags at the end of the driveway. We get the Times. That's wrapped in a blue plastic bag. Two actually. And we get the Providence Journal. That's wrapped in a clear plastic bag. Just one.

This morning, as I walked toward the end of the driveway, I noticed something different. Something was on top of the Journal.

A pile of dog shit.

As I said, I am not making this up. I know, I know. It's April Fools Day Eve. I just admitted to lying about " my cousin " Tom McCarthy. But I swear, this is true. There was a pile of dog shit on the Providence Journal.

Don't ask me if it was above or below the fold. I don't know. I wasn't thinking clearly. I was angry. I kicked the paper and it went a few yards. The shit fell off, but the plastic bag was still stained.

If this is someone's idea of an April Fools joke, I say this:

At least you seem to be reading my blog. Or my comments on McEnroe's blog. But please, don't pull that one on me again. Did I hear someone say, " That's not nice? "

No shit.