When the editor of my newspaper kicked me upstairs from news photography to writing a column he subsequently found good enough to include in the dozen or so other midwestern newspapers he published set down the direction he wanted my material to take, he told me I had carte blanch so long as a recalled two things: our paper was literally on the breakfast table of a lot of rural farm families, and he wanted as little as possible that'd really upset that meal or be over the heads of those with limited education but a lot of native intelligence and hard-won practical experience. And he told me that he wanted his paper to be the sort that if a visitor from 50 years past arrived via time machine, he could return with a copy of our rag and be set for life.
I never had much of a problem with that.
-archy-/-