DATELINE—Monterey, CA
Local mild-mannered real estate broker Tom Burns has unveiled plans to put Monterey on the map. In an exclusive interview, Mr. Burns shares his exciting, ambitious plans.

FT: We at Foolish Times are eager to hear your idea. It has something to do with dogs?
TB: Yes.
FT: Could you be more specific?
TB: Sure.
FT: Well?
TB: Well what?
FT: WHAT IS YOUR IDEA?
TB: Oh, yeah. The idea. It’s simple, really. I merged two existing ideas to form a new one. Kind of like hot dogs and buns. Simon and Garfunkel. Lindsay Lohan and rehab.
FT: What did you combine, sir?
TB: Well, you’ve probably heard of the Running Of The Bulls in Pamplona, Spain? Herds of bulls sent caroming down the village alleys, maiming, mauling, and goring the local morons who let the bulls chase them?
FT: Yeeeeeesssss. I’m afraid to ask . . .
TB: Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I give you . . .
FT: I’m holding my breath.
TB: The Running Of The Dachshunds!!!
FT: I’m sorry. I thought you said The Running Of The Dachshunds.
TB: Bingo, baby.
FT: Give me a moment to compose myself.
TB: Beethoven used to compose, himself. Now he’s decomposing.
FT: Old joke. Bad joke.
TB: You get what you pay for.
FT: And as I understand, we are not paying you for this interview. Point well taken.
TB: No need to get snippy. I plan to cordon off Alvarado Street in downtown Monterey. The Run will be out to the end of the wharf and back.
FT: Sir, let me get this straight. You plan to have the locals let a pack of Dachshunds chase them through Monterey, out to the end of Fisherman’s Wharf and back again?
TB: Indeed.
FT: Why?
TB: Why? The same reason they do it in Spain! The thrill of danger! Tempting death!
FT: With Dachshunds? Their ears almost drag on the ground and their legs are only two, three inches long.Dachshunds?
TB: Ever been chased by a dachshund?
FT: Can’t say as I have.
TB: Well, I’ve got one that will tear a leg off of you if you get on the wrong side of him. I’ve seen him eat ten hot dogs in one sitting. That’s seventy in dog years. I’ve seen him chase the mailman, er, oops, mail person, down the street at forty miles an hour. That’s where I got the idea.
FT: Why would your dog chase a mail carrier down the street at forty miles an hour?
TB: The mail person delivered a copy of “Cat Fancier Quarterly” to us by mistake.
FT: Sounds like you’ve got a temperamental dog on your hands.
TB: It gets worse. I bought discount dog food once and he chewed the leg off the dining room table. That’s seven dining table legs in dog yea . . .
FT: STOP! Stop with the dog years. Stop with the craziness. Stop with this stupid story, for God’s sakes!
TB: I’ve already notified the media. CNN is coming! Wolf Blitzer is covering it . . .
FT: THE Wolf Blitzer?
TB: The same. Say, I can arrange to have Wolf do a story with you. Maybe you could co-anchor the event.
FT: Me? With Wolf Blitzer?
TB: You’ve been lookin’ for that big break, right? Am I right?
FT: Me . . . Wolf Blitzer . . .
TB: Maybe I could sell you the European rights. The book rights. The movie rights.
FT: Boy, this is going to be big. This is brilliant! I must admit, Mr. Burns, this is a million-dollar idea.
TB: Do the math. That’s seven million in dog years!
FT: I thought you were gonna’ quit with the “dog years” thing.
TB: Don’t push me, or I’ll call Wolfie and you’re out of the mix, bucko.
FT: Can I be in the Running Of The Dachshunds?
TB: Sure. And here’s the secret to staying alive: wear ankle-high tennis shoes so they can’t bite you.