Moo U did not have a journalism course but it did offer two credit courses in journalism. I took the other one.
"News and Article Writing for Recreation Managers" apparently taught its students never to call a thing by its name. A fish was not a fish but "a member of the finny tribe."
Eddie, who wrote Fins, Fur and Feathers, had not attended Moo U but had picked up a similar method somewhere else. This led to some memorably awful writing. A flounder was not a fish but a doormat. So once, when the fish-murderers had had a successful weekend pulling up large flounders, Eddie reported that "the bay was paved with monster doormats."
|A pair of monsters|
Eddie moonlighted, too, but he seemed to put more effort into Fins, Fur and Feathers than into his real job, which was being president of a small savings-and-loan association. Those were the days when running an S&L was not demanding work. The gummint allowed S&Ls to offer a quarter-percent higher interest on time deposits and to lend on residential mortgages.
This may seem like unnecessary gummint regulation but when the regulatory stranglehold was relaxed, the S&L business was taken over by more fearsome predators than Eddie ever encountered around Chesapeake Bay. By that time, though, Eddie and his S&L were gone.
The job may have been undemanding but it was possible to underperform. While Eddie was out murdering ducks, his cashier, a middle-aged virgin, was performing good works with Eddie's customers' money.
In not much more than 10 years, she donated more than $2 million to her church. In those days, the cashier at a small S&L couldn't have been paid more than $20,000 a year, but the preacher and his vestrymen never stopped to wonder how the cashier -- I think her name was Evelyn -- could contribute $20,000 a month to the church.
Anyhow, that is not the only reason I am automatically skeptical when Christians offer to instruct me about morality, but it's one of them.