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Summit Up

Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column observing an alarming tendency toward monosyllabism.

We’re at fault, too.

It might just be a Summit Up Land thing, one of those linguistic colloquialisms, like Atlantans saying “y’all,” St. Paulians saying “yah” or Toledoans saying, “Come back with my hubcaps.”

We’ve noticed people shortening what would otherwise be long statements. Heck, even short words are getting shorter. Take expressions of departure, what you might call good-byes. Instead of saying “See you later” – or even “Later!” – we hear people simply saying, “Late!”

We were accused of this ourselves just this afternoon. Staffers around the Corporate Suites heard us hang up the phone and kept mocking us, saying “Bah!” (as opposed to “Bye” or “Goodbye”).

It could be the altitude. We’re all just short of breath. Either that, or we’re all becoming bad impressions of Dana Carvey impersonating the elder George Bush (as in, “Nah gon do it! Wouldn’t be prudent!”).


And, yes, we have used up our daily allotment of exclamation marks today.


This is just too good not to repeat: Englewood police are on the look-out for a 7-Eleven employee who looted the store of more than 12 grand in cash and merchandise – on his first night of working solo.

According to the Associated Press report we came across, this fellow (who happens to live only a couple of blocks from the store) went in for his first night shift. A manager arrived at 5 a.m., found the store unattended and cleaned out. This enterprising fellow stole nearly 2,000 packs of cigarettes, 600-some lottery tickets, $1,200 in phone cards, 15 cell phones and $1,500 in cash.

This genius, however, didn’t bother to steal the security videotape, which also showed him swilling all the beer in the store while packing his parting gifts.

Maybe he was just putting together his emergency cache for the next blizzard, huh?


Our favorite woodsie, Rufus. T., up and shipped out last year. But he’s sunning himself down in Florida now. He sent this e-mail last week:

“Hi folks, I don’t have too long to write today, gotta get to the beach. Just wish you and all my favorite Summit Stage drivers were enjoying this rotten weather with me. Oh, by the way, the highest mountain down here is about 12 feet high. Still thinking of all of you.”

And he signed it “Beach bum.”


It’s Thursday and the password is “stealth pickles.” We expect you to use it at, fax at (970) 668-0755 or just tell us secret gherkin stories on the voicemail at (970) 668-3998, ext. 237.

We’re out … or are we in? … We can never tell …

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