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 There are none so blind as those who have no sight:
“It’s no secret Sheriff Mask and County Judge Lanny Fite are at odds. But Sheriff Mask says he was completely blind sighted by the new telephone contract issue launched by Judge Fite.”
Ed Stanfield bagged this one.

 “Grover Alexander of the Philadelphia Phillies … had 28 victories in 1911.”
Some people become famous using all three of their names, and are always referred to that way. No one speaks of Arthur Doyle. Like George Washington Carver, Grover Cleveland Alexander was named for a president and proud of it. This brings to mind a story that Tip O’Neill, former speaker of the House, used to tell. When Ronald Reagan was president, he visited O’Neill’s office one day. He looked around and said “That’s a handsome old desk you have there.”
“Why thank you, Mr. President,” O’Neill said. “That desk belonged to Grover Cleveland.”
“You don’t say! I played Grover Cleveland in a movie.”
“No, Mr. President, you played Grover Cleveland Alexander, the old baseball pitcher.”

 A blog item about a congressional candidate referred to “rock‑chunking Ernest T. Bass,” a character in an old television show. Gwen Moritz writes, “I would have written ‘rock-chucking’ but I see that recognizes both words in this context. Which do you prefer?” In this case, rock-chunking. It’s more country-sounding, and the TV show was country-oriented.

 “Houston Nutt takes the blunt of the blame for being predictable.” The writer couldn’t sneak that past a former newspaper editor like Ann B. Carroll of Pocahontas. “Surely he meant brunt,” she says. “Taking the blunt would be taking less of the blame, if anything.” Brunt it is.

 “Norval F. Pohl, past president of the University of North Texas … from 2000 until August.” “Robert L. Potts, past chancellor of the North Dakota University system from 2004 until August.”
They’re past president and past chancellor now. During the periods mentioned, they were president and chancellor.

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