When they covered the story of yesterday's church shooting, I looked up long enough to see this headline:
Bible Stops Bullet.
Huh. OK, one of the crazy man's shots did hit the pastor's Bible, but as the Good Book didn't, you know, actually save the man, isn't this a little weird to run as a headline? I mean, if the Bible had come through and saved the guy, great, but it didn't.
What was the editor thinking when he wrote this?
Here you have a minister murdered in front of his congregation by a man reportedly made crazy by Lyme's Disease, who then stabbed himself in the neck as he was wrestled to the ground by several brave congregants.
So, what's the lede? What is the most important part of this story? It's been a long time since I flirted with a journalism career, but I know it's not Bible Stops Bullet.
Weird. America loves its Bible-stopping-bullet stories. There were over 2 million Google responses to my search.
One guy even tested whether a Bible carried in a breast pocket could really stop a slug. He shoots a lot of bullets at a lot of books. I wish I'd thought of that.
Which leads me to a story Woody Allen told back when he was funny:
Years ago, my mother gave me a bullet...a bullet, and I put it in my breast pocket. Two years after that, I was walking down the street, when a berserk evangelist heaved a Gideon bible out a hotel room window, hitting me in the chest. Bible would have gone through my heart if it wasn't for the bullet.
So far, my Monday sucks pretty hard. Maybe the time change screwed up my internal clock. I don't know. But I hope your day is better.