By Tim Sanders

Q: Is this going to be another one of those bogus Q and A columns?

A: Yes. That is why there is a "Q" prefacing your question. So load up and fire away.
 

Q: All right then. I am a Professor of Advanced Statistical Studies at the University of Georgia, and last week I picked up a copy of The Post while traveling through Cherokee County. I was fascinated by the line at the top of page 1 which stated, "14,500 Copies. 30,000 Readers." Now 30,000 divided by 14,500 is approximately 2.07. If these statistics are accurate, that would mean that two people will read each copy all the way through, and the third will only read 7% of the same paper, which in a 44-page edition would work out to about three pages. Can you explain how your paper came up with these statistics, and help clear up my confusion?

A: Yes and no. Yes, I can explain where those statistics came from, and no, since you are employed by the University of Georgia, I probably cannot help clear up your confusion.

Q: Was that a cheap shot?

A: Yes it was, and it was beneath me. I am an Auburn alumnus, and Auburn alumni are too sophisticated and genteel to stoop to cheap shots. Please forgive me. We Auburn folks are above such pettiness, much as the magnificent golden eagle soars above the lowly, slovenly, squat, slobbering bulldog.

Q: Magnificent soaring eagle? You mean stinking, molting turkey vulture searching for rotting road kill, don’t you?

A: DORK!

Q: MORON!

A: There, now that we’ve got that out of the way, how about those statistics? I know all about statistics. When you said that you thought the statistics indicated that two individuals would be reading each copy of The Post, while another would read just three pages of that same copy, I almost choked on my beef jerky. Somehow, you’d stumbled over a portion of the truth. But those same numbers suggested to us that instead of three people reading 207% of each paper, there might actually be 2.07 people reading 100% of each paper. And you have no idea what we went through to test that hypothesis. We know that 14,500 copies are placed in selected businesses and newsstands every week because a) we use a sophisticated mathematical formula which calculates the number of wheels on our delivery vans and then divides that number by four, and b) 14,500 is the number of copies we’ve had printed. And since the average Cherokee County family has 2.07 members with the ability to read, then by multiplying 14,500 by 2.07, adding the number of days in a week, deducting 7, and then adding the standard deviation of 14 to the subtrahend for modesty’s sake, we extrapolate the remainder to be 30,000 readers, plus or minus 72, which is within the margin of error, not counting the wind chill factor, the additional number of Internet and out-of-county readers, and the scores from the Austrian judges which have yet to come in.

Q: I’m surprised you didn’t throw logarithms into that convoluted mess.

A: I tried logarithms once, but my logs were wet, and after a couple of soggy "bump-da-da-bump-bump, BUMP-BUMPs" I gave it up. As for our statistical formula, if you don’t understand it, you should move to Cherokee County and let us teach you some math.

Q: How did you arrive at the number 2.07 as the number of people in the average Cherokee County family with the ability to read?

A: We visited an average Cherokee County family and questioned them. It was all very scientific.
 

Q: And how had you established, statistically, that this family was an "average" Cherokee County family?

A: We took a vote, and the Caboodle family of Cedar Bluff was voted the average Cherokee County family. Statistically, they received nineteen votes, while the runners up, the Clinches, garnered only seven votes.

Q: And the Caboodles had 2.07 family members who could read?

A: Exactly. There was the father, Durward, the mother, Katherine, and the daughter, "K".

Q: What kind of a name is "K"?

A: Her original name was Kit Anne Caboodle, but after the parents sent 93% of her off to college, all they had left was "K."

Q: How do you send 93% of your daughter off to college?

A: I was never very clear on that, but I think it had something to do with a cheese grating accident. All I know is that the remaining 7% of her could read. Not much, mind you, but she could read. I tested her.

Q: That’s ridiculous. How do you test 7% of a girl?

A: It wasn’t easy. It took us half an hour to find her. She was hiding behind a coffee table leg. I asked her to read part of the Gettysburg Address, and she got as far as "Six years, one month, and two days ago, a small fraction of our fathers brought forth on this continent a ne–a ne–"

Q: A "ne–?" And that was it?

A: Yep. After exactly 7% of Lincoln’s speech, the poor little thing ran out of gas.

Q: But it wasn’t even correct. What happened to four score and seven?

A: She whittled it down to 7%, which works out to six years, a month, and two days.
 

Q: Aha, that supports my original theory. Did you try any other texts?

A: Yes. Her father picked her up and held her very close to the wall, so she could read a copy of the Ten Commandments her mother had hung there.

Q: Held her close to the wall?

A: Her eye was bad.

Q: And how did she do with the Commandments?

A: She got to "Thou shalt have no–" and gave out. You just couldn’t push her past that 7% point.

Q: So let me get this straight. The average Cherokee County family sent the majority of their Kit Anne Caboodle off to college, leaving them with just enough to keep their number slightly above two and render The Post a readership of 30,000?

A: See? I knew we could teach you Georgia folks some math. For my part, I just hope the preponderance of that girl comes back home to live after college. It will increase the average family from 2.07 to 3, and run our readership up to 43,500.

Q: What if the next "average" vote goes to the Clinches?

A: Don’t talk that way. They have nine kids, plus eight grandchildren, two dogs, three cats and a family of gerbils all living in a single-wide mobile home. If you think I’m gonna get involved in figuring that mess out, you’re nuts. With an average household that size, it would take three weeks just to print our papers, and we’re a weekly. Statistically, that means that by year’s end we’d be fourteen months behind. Good Lord, before long Weiss Lake would be fished out, you’d never find a parking spot at WalMart, and the traffic on the Clarence E. Chesnut, Jr. Bypass would be bumper to bumper. The whole county would be covered with a dark cloud of methane and carbon monoxide, and infested with sand fleas. It’s too horrible to even contemplate!
 

Q: STOP! I have a splitting headache.

A: Me too.