Sometimes writing a column turns into work, much to the chagrin of the unsuspecting writer. Good writers loath work and being trapped in the belly of the beast who eats up words and ideas and refuses to spit them out. A column out of control, worse yet, the stillborn blank white page, easily turns the normally happy scribe into a grumpy, grouchy, foul-mouthed SUV hood ornament shell of a creature.