WELCOME HOME, HON

Once upon a time, I wanted to change the world.

Now, I won't even get up and change the channel. A few  months ago I watched Sex and The City 2--a God-awful movie--because I couldn't find the remote. Talk about pathetic.

Recently, however, my dormant activism tendencies were pushed to the forefront again when I read that I had lost the right to the word "Hon." A certain restauranteur, who shall remain nameless to protect the innocent, (and by that I mean me, from lawsuits) had gone out and copyrighted the word Hon. Any usage of the word, verbally or in writing, was now illegal unless cleared first through said restauranteur. There was also an expectancy of monetary exchange. 

How do you copyright a word that is as much a part of the Baltimore venacular as say, crab or Natty Boh? Look here, Hon, (damn it! How much is that going to cost me???) its like saying that there would now be a charge for looking at Cal Ripken, or for walking on the Boardwalk downey oshun. That just ain't right dere, Hon. (Jeez. Start a tab.) 

So I, along with many of my fellow Hon-sters (Ha! Can't charge me. Not a real word.) boycotted the restauranteur's place of business. Years to come, when historians review this little piece of civil uprising, my picture will be there. Yes, it may look as if I was just sitting around, perfecting the ass  groove in my sofa, but what I was really doing was boycotting that restaurant in protest. Most nights, I would go home from work and spend hours boycotting. All of that protesting was exhausting; there were nights I actually fell asleep on the couch.

But the hard months of sitting on my couch most evenings, not going to that restaurant, paid off. It was announced this week that restauranteur is going to relinquish her rights to Hon. (Too late! Can't charge me now. So suck it.) Finally, Hon is back where it belongs...on the lips of all of us born Bawlmorians. 

Welcome home, Hon. We missed you.