Dr. Timothy Nomann met the press this morning at the Big ASS Training Center in Lehrton, Mississippi. Reading from a prepared statement he said:
"Numerous irregularities have been discovered in the reporting of some of our contract athletes. Also, personal attacks on the management of Big ASS has shown up in some personal emails. Additionally, further undisclosed problems have been detected. Since the investigation is ongoing, we have nothing else to add at this point."
Nomann then walked off the podium while reporters hurled questions his way like "peaceful" Trump protesters tossing rocks through business windows.
For the rest of the day, the whole town of Lehrton was abuzz. At Toby's Barber Shop, the old men who regularly gathered there blamed all the trouble on "the Russians" who "surely have hacked Big ASS." I had gone in to get a hair trim and thus became privy to the town's talk machine.
"Ain't that Beets guy of Russian descent?" one old man in overalls asked the group.
While I was receiving my haircut, a gaggle of four-overalled men played checkers on a card table in the corner.
"Pinko commy sissy if I ever saw one," a decrepit checker player piped in.
"Wikileaks my a$$," the ancient man sitting across from him spouted. "Wikibeets more like it."
"Yeah," another talking overall answered, "Wikibeets."
I left Toby's Barber Shop and went to City Grocery on the square. While in the check out line I overheard one middle aged woman chatting with the cashier. "Witch hunt. It's that Beets guy. They are going after Hodge, and I think it's a shame. But just you remember this," she said with the blood rising in her face, "God don't like no ugly."
Later, I caught up with Zane Hodge who was working out at Plate City Gym. When informed of Nomann's remarks, Hodge looked ill and sat down for a few minutes. I asked for a response and he said was, "Anything I write in a personal email is just that. Personal. If they discipline me for something I wrote in private to a friend, I may leave Big ASS and go back to The Fasttrack Fatties Athletic Club. Geez, this administration is repressive. These are Nazis. Nomann is a Nazi and Randy Beets is Joseph Stalin."
"Can I quote you on that?" I asked, but he never answered.
I also inquired at to what he may have written that could lead to discipline. Hodge was silent as if lost in thought.
Hodge then rose and began to pace the gym with a worried look plastered across his face.
"I'll tell you what this is," he finally spoke out in an agitated voice. "This is Wikibeets, not Wikileaks. Beets done it. This has Beets written all over it."
"That's what they called it at the barber shop," I informed him. "The also called it Wikibeets."
But Hodge acted like he didn't hear and kept pacing about. Then he picked up a pair of dumbbells and did a few bicep curls. Flinging the weights to the ground he shouted, "I'll get that Beets if it's the last thing I do. Hear me? I'll get Beets for this!"
An ill-tempered Hodge then stormed out of the gym yelling, "If you have anymore questions, you can contact my lawyer."
"Who is your lawyer?" I yelled back.
"I don't know yet," he answered and he climbed into his truck and sped away leaving a cloud of blue smoke in his wake.