Whew! I was worried what might happen Wednesday and Thursday, but things settled down (as of my deadline Thursday, anyway). There must have been a scheduling mixup. All the news got shoved to the beginning of the week.
From the beginning of the Dorner saga, I didn't know what to make of it, and even with an extra two days to digest its finale, the story isn't any clearer.
Accusing the LAPD of sullying his reputation, Dorner decided the best way to clear his name was to embark on a killing spree. Uh-huh.
He vowed to wage war against the Los Angeles Police Department, naming 50 targets and promising "unconventional and asymmetrical warfare." Next thing we knew, he was in San Diego trying to steal a boat to go to Mexico. After bungling that, he drove to Corona and Riverside before heading to Big Bear.
Give him this, he certainly had "unconventional" down pat, and it's hard to get less symmetrical than Dorner's road tour of L.A.'s periphery. If he was gunning for the LAPD, he picked curious places to look.
One of many lingering questions Thursday was why the cops hadn't found him earlier. Weren't they going door to door?
Dorner appears to have been staying in a condo 400 feet from the command post where hundreds of cops and reporters were milling around. Dorner could have waved to them from his balcony.
Seems almost brazen. It wouldn't surprise me if footage turns up of Dorner at one of the press conferences, holding a notebook.
(Cindy Bachman, the sheriff's testy spokeswoman, probably snapped at him for asking a repetitive question.)
If the sheriff wanted a real door-to-door search, he should have sent in Jehovah's Witnesses. They always get their man.
I liked the original story, still being repeated Wednesday, that Dorner was flushed from hiding when two maids came in to clean and he tied them up. It showed how mixed up he was: If you're a man, you're supposed to entice two maids into tying you up.
But as we learned Wednesday, it wasn't a mother-daughter housekeeping crew, as the cops said. It was a man and woman, married, who own the condo. It's unknown if they were carrying featherdusters.
Dorner tied them up and stole their car. A Nissan. Purple.
Clearly, he was growing desperate.
Soon he had bunkered down in a woodsy cabin like Grizzly Dorner and had a firefight with law enforcement. Our newsroom was watching the live coverage on TV. The cops fired so many rounds, I was worried they'd cornered another newspaper carrier.
But it was him. Even though the cabin burned to the ground, one day before Ash Wednesday, his body was positively identified Thursday afternoon as Dorner's.
Of course, he was positively identified while driving in Torrance but turned out to be two women and then a white man, so you can be forgiven for being skeptical.
Imagine if there was a mistake somehow and he's still at large. He'll have to clear his name all over again.
Wasn't the public response to Dorner fascinating? I was reminded of people on overpasses cheering and waving "The Juice is Loose" signs as O.J. Simpson's white Ford Bronco led the police on a merry slow-speed chase.
It's not that people love murderers - at least, I hope not - but even law-abiding citizens harbor an anti-establishment streak that might reveal itself when they perceive one man against the world.
Dorner, though, was a dangerous nut. If people had cheered one of his getaways, their signs ought to have read "A Screw is Loose."
Dorner's flameout was so dramatic, he even bumped President Barack Obama off our front page Wednesday. Obama's speech ran on page 12, only a couple of pages in front of the comics.
If Obama wanted better play in Southern California newspapers, he should have upped his game. For instance, he could have worn one of those "I'm Not Chris Dorner" T-shirts. Or he might have set the Capitol ablaze and delivered his speech from inside via megaphone.
"They deserve a vote! And my suit is on fire!"
(If the Capitol were indeed on fire, Marco Rubio could have made better use of that bottle of water.)
The pope was smart to get his resignation out on a slow news day. Otherwise it might have been played like this: "Pope to be first in 600 years to resign. See back page."
Some Catholics think Benedict should have stuck it out and died in office, which seems like a terrible fate to wish on anyone.
But why are all the popes so old? He got the job at 78. Even Walmart greeters are retired by 78. (The satirical Onion website headlined its story "Resigning Pope No Longer Has Strength to Lead Church Backward.")
Everyone's a-flutter over the thought that the old pope plans to live near the new pope and that they might bump into each other around the Vatican.
Imagine Benedict popping up at the new pope's door, asking if he can borrow a cup of sugar. Or peeking through the blinds like nosy neighbor Gladys Kravitz to see who the new pope is entertaining.
While I'm thinking along sitcom lines, let's say that a stranger leaves a baby on Benedict's doorstep, and the ex-pontiff and the new pontiff team up to raise it.
Title: "Two and a Half Popes." I hope it debuts on a slow news day.
David Allen writes Friday, Sunday and Wednesday, in between actual news. Reach him at firstname.lastname@example.org or 909-483-9339, read his blog at dailybulletin.com/davidallenblog, check out facebook.com/davidallencolumnist and follow @davidallen909 on Twitter.