It's a strange thing to be writing my last column for the North Adams Transcript, perhaps doubly strange because I have pretended to write a final column before as an April Fools Gag, when I announced I was being replaced by a herring advice columnist from Norway, and then wrote a herring advice column. After all, many people are hard of herring.

But while many of you correctly recognized this as fishy, this is sadly the real deal, as the North Adams Transcript is soon to be no more, absorbed into the Berkshire Eagle. I've been writing this column every week in the Transcript for over ten years now. That's well over 500 columns. And while I may have told teachers in school that the dog ate my homework, I've never missed a deadline with a humor column, because I have had as much fun writing them as you had reading them.

Some of my fun has come from sharing glimpses into my home life, from the crucified T-shirts in my windows when I first moved into my house, to the piles of clothes in my room made of a substance I call "nofoldium," to the spooky spider-ridden pit of despair that I described as Dante's furnace.

Then there have been my adventures with food, whether it was the court transcript of the time I may have accidentally eaten week-old risotto, the official recipe for leaving food in the oven while you browse the Internet to created Burnted Potatoes, or just the "shrimpspolsion" that happened when I wrestled against a bottle of Malaysian Chin Chalok. And lost.

Of course, I didn't just write about myself. I tried to cover politics ranging from the local mayoral races, to the smears of Santorum around presidential campaigns, to a Pope Quiz exploring the reason for black smoke coming out of the Sistine Chapel (after years of staring at it, Adam finally pulled god's finger), to my most widely-read column ever, where I carefully considered all of your political views and concluded that you were wrong.

Heck, I didn't even just write as myself. As Dr. Manners, I dispensed essential mannerology advice such as which fork to stab your date in the eye with, and the correct type of cake for telling a child he's adopted. As Crazy Uncle Seth, I offered children all sorts of helpful tips for bringing spaceships to church (Pew! Pew! Pew!) and staring at corridors during Study Hall. As Chrono Detective Fred Ace, I resolved to solve Daylight Thieving Time, and went back for seconds.

I used anagrams to get truths from HARRY POTTER that even a THROAT PRYER couldn't extract. I've done Fakespearean sonnets and epic limericks to explain why I hate Valentine's Day. Seth once writ just with four part word. And of course, unnecessarily verbose Christmas songs like "Allow it to Precipitate" and "Festoon the Corridors."

In short, it's been a heck of a ride. And I appreciate those of you who joined me for it. While I still look forward to writing more humor columns, I will miss this little local weekly spotlight tremendously. While this column may be ending, I still won't make a "dog ate my homework" excuse. In spite of my girlfriend's advice, I'll make this excuse instead:

The Eagle ate my Transcript.

Seth Brown is an award-winning humor writer, the author of "From God to Verse," and thanks you all for reading his column every week in the North Adams Transcript for the past decade.


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