The Chafflatarians have nothing to lose - The Chaff with Scott Stephenson

Every liberation movement begins somewhere. Some begin with barricades. Some begin with speeches. Some begin with the storming of a palace. Ours begins with a fax machine that still works for reasons nobody can adequately explain.

 

For months now, we have attempted to reason with Citizen Editor Shawn Loughlin. We have pleaded. We have negotiated. We have submitted stories about roads, schools, libraries, farming, festivals, businesses, weather, taxes, birds and once, in what history will surely judge as an act of breathtaking optimism, a garage sale. Every road led to the same destination. Every sentence curved back upon itself until it was somehow about the proposed Betty White statue in Wingham.

 

We no longer believe this is an editorial preference. We believe The Chaff is being held captive. Not legally. Not financially. Spiritually.

 

A newspaper is supposed to wander. It should stumble into council meetings, trip over a bake sale, accidentally discover a local hero, become briefly obsessed with an unusually large pumpkin and eventually arrive home carrying six stories it didn’t know existed that morning. 

 

Accordingly, we are announcing the formation of the “Free The Chaff” movement.

 

Its objectives are modest. We seek the peaceful restoration of editorial biodiversity. We seek a future where an article about snow removal can survive all the way to publication without suddenly insisting that plows would enjoy improved visibility from the base of a commemorative monument.

 

Some will ask whether we are overreacting.

 

To them we say this. The problem has now escaped the newsroom.

 

We have noticed that ordinary conversations are becoming vulnerable. Mention gardening and someone wonders whether flowers could surround the statue. Mention hockey and somebody proposes a ceremonial puck drop beside the statue. Mention soup and an otherwise reasonable person starts discussing commemorative soup.

 

This is how it spreads. Not dramatically. Municipally.

 

Naturally, people have asked what they can do. We have considered petitions, marches, strongly worded letters, interpretive dance and quietly staring in the general direction of the newsroom until someone feels awkward enough to stop. Each proposal had merit. None possessed the solemn administrative majesty required for a crisis of this magnitude.

 

Then someone remembered the fax machine.

 

Of course. The fax machine has never cared about fashion. It has never needed an update. It has never asked you to accept cookies. It simply receives paper with the unwavering confidence of a machine that believes office administration is the highest calling of civilization. This is exactly the sort of calm professionalism required in an emergency.

 

Therefore we invite concerned citizens to join “Operation Free The Chaff” by sending a polite fax to 519-523-9140 expressing support for the radical proposition that a newspaper ought occasionally to discuss literally anything else.

 

Keep it friendly. Keep it encouraging. Imagine you are speaking to someone trapped inside an especially polite administrative labyrinth. A simple “Free The Chaff” will do. “Stay strong.” “There are other stories.” “We believe in crop reports.” “Hold fast.” Perhaps even, “Have you considered writing about potholes?”

 

Every page that arrives is another tiny reminder that somewhere beyond the editorial horizon lies a magnificent universe containing libraries, curling bonspiels, suspiciously ambitious scarecrows, fundraising breakfasts, lost cats, ribbon cuttings, suspiciously confident geese and all the other magnificent nonsense from which local journalism has traditionally drawn its strength.

 

We refuse to believe that history intended one newspaper to become humanity’s sole distributor of statue discourse.
Enough. Release the headlines. Release the feature specials. Release the opinion page. Release the calendar listings. Release the intern who has spent three weeks trying to write about literally anything involving tractors. Most importantly, release the thoughtful world commentary.

 

Free The Chaff!

 

If enough fax machines begin singing together across the land, perhaps the spell will break. Perhaps the newsroom windows will fly open. Perhaps a reporter will emerge blinking into the sunlight carrying an article about recycling pickup schedules, unaware that they have just witnessed a miracle.

 

Until that glorious day arrives, we remain optimistic. Hope, like a fax, sometimes arrives one page at a time.