The fast-approaching end of the year and the traditional Thanksgiving weekend doldrums in the column-writing business dictate the semi-annual purging of the dawg-eared file folder slugged “Column Possibilities That Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time.”

The folder – what we in the news biz refer to as a “tickler file” – fairly bulges. Among its contents are yellowed news clippings from various publications, printouts of old e-mail messages from friend and foe, the occasional weird obituary notice and cryptic notes to myself containing more exclamation points and underlined words than the first draft of the Unabomber manifesto.

Once, these nuggets seemed to offer great promise as themes to be explored upon the occasion of the inevitable slow day at the keyboard. Now, as I pick through the pile, they seem but outdated bits of irrelevancy, which, if they could speak, would pose the same plaintive questions that Ross Perot’s befuddled vice-presidential running mate, Adm. James Stockdale, asked at his nationally televised coming-out party: “Who am I? Why am I here?”

From the Poetic Justice Section there’s the news clipping out of Fort Myers, Fla., featuring this lead paragraph: “A motorcycling enthusiast who applauded the state’s new helmet-free law has died as a result of a motorcycle accident in which she wasn’t wearing a helmet…”

Some clips, like this one datelined Cedarsburg, Wis., stick pretty much to the bare facts: “A bank robbery suspect being held in leg irons in a hospital allegedly grabbed a guard’s gun, shot off his chains and fled in the nude, leading police on a car and foot chase that ended with officers shooting him in his buttocks…”

There’s a clipping about an aspiring Grim Reaper getting fined 35 bucks for driving an old hearse around Westfield, Mass. – allegedly unsafely – while dressed in his signature black hood and gloves. One about the opportunistic Rev. Jesse Jackson (old “Rent-a-Ranter,” as syndicated columnist George Will refers to the man) threatening to boycott the credit company MBNA if he should find that the firm’s record on hiring and promoting minorities doesn’t meet with his approval. And one about a 2-year-old Spokane, Wash., boy who had to be disarmed by police after he was found wandering in a parking lot with a loaded handgun.

The collection includes the clever Los Angeles Times headline, “Chick Accuses Some Of Her Male Colleagues Of Sexism,” over a story concerning Los Angeles Councilwoman Laura Chick; and this precious Dan Quayle-ism of a decade ago: “Our party has been accused of fooling the public by calling tax increases ‘revenue enhancement.’ Not so. No one was fooled.” Also, some classic gobbledygook from the federal government’s 1980 budget document: “Funds obligated for military assistance as of Sept. 3, 1979, may, if deobligated, be reobligated…”

And a couple of caustic put-downs for emergency use should you inadvertently get cornered by the office bore at the annual Christmas party: “Stay with me. I want to be alone.” (Joey Adams); “I wish I’d known you when you were alive.” (Leonard Louis Levinson).

There are hastily scribbled notes on a range of subjects guaranteed to break the ice while a guy gets his ears lowered down at the local barbershop on a Saturday morning: Dorks – and dorkettes – who flaunt their cellphones as some sort of yuppie status symbol, generally while they are wheeling a killer sports utility vehicle one-handed through rush-hour traffic. Touchy-feely animal-rights activists who insist on referring to pet owners as pet “guardians.” Affirmative action and its evil twin, reverse discrimination, that no one dares talk about in polite circles, for fear of being labeled sexist, racist, fascist or any other member of the “ist” word family that, roughly translated, means “big fat redneck dope.”

Ground I’ve plowed many times before is well represented in my folder, of course. Telemarketers who can recite canned speeches the length of “War and Peace” without coming up for air so you can get a word in edgewise to tell them no dice…Television news reports that show a person speaking at length on camera, with no identification line telling viewers who the mystery speaker is. (How difficult can it be to remedy this aggravation? We’re not, after all, talking quantum physics here)…The latest already overpaid professional athlete to demand a new $200 million contract, while insisting that “it’s not about money”… Dim bulbs who don’t know enough to remove their hats while eating in a public restaurant, leading to the obvious conclusion that their IQ approximates the size of said hat.

These babies having all been thrown out with the bath water, today I begin collecting anew.

NEWS columnist Kent Ward lives in Winterport. His e-mail address is olddawg@bangordailynews.net.