Good press

There is one kind of humorous story to tell about today. I was in a state-for the reasons detailed in the other post-a ranting nervous sort of babbling mess, feeling nothing but like utter crap. So logically, I stopped into the office of the professor.(This conversation is best read with mental intonation of two very world weary and knowledgeable intellectuals-the sort of speech patterns one might find being used by stock characters in a scene at an art gallery opening.)
We were talking about Kent State. Today is the something'th anniversary of the Kent State Massacre. She pointed out there are many points of interest there that bear the same name as has she. I responded-"Yes, I know. I was banned from the coffee shop of that name."
"Oooh, I'm impressed. I've never been banned from anywhere."
"Yes, well. I have a very dark life."
"Oh, I've figured that out."
"Perhaps I should throw in this whole folklore towel and make my living as a memoirist."
"If you had dirt on the right people you could make a good living blackmailing them into paying you for NOT telling the story."
"Sadly, I only have the dirty little secrets of people who would be THRILLED to get any press at all. They'd probably encourage me to make shit up so they'd get more ink in the book. My fault for not associating with a better quality of celebrity. But, ahh me, there you go."
"Yes, there you go."