December 30, 2009, 12:22

John Bailey has never met you, dear caller, but is just basking in that direct-address love. Think you can squeeze another two or three “John”s into your next sentence? It makes me feel so special. … Also, I’m holding the phone only an inch and a half from my ear. Can you switch to a full-on field holler? Thanks.

December 26, 2009, 13:11

John Bailey found himself in the bitter cold and blowing snow unable to latch the driver’s-side door, swore like a maimed stevedore, envisioned driving in icy slush to the mechanic’s with his right hand while holding the door fast with his left, then took matters into both hands, chiseling chunks of thick black gunk from the striker plate. Voila! Latch assembly clean, door closed. Moist flushable wipes, you have saved the day!