Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Of Nothing In Particular

I wanted to get a blog in before I break for Christmas. I'm a state employee. We break for Christmas, ya know. It's true what they say, state pay is average to slightly below average. However the benefits are pretty darn cool.

Coming Soon: Death of the Arcade; A Photo Essay If you were a teen or pre-teen in the 80s and shoveled what seemed like millions of dollars, one quarter at a time, into the likes of Tempest, Defender, Asteroids, and other such earth-shattering advances in modern technology, you're going to like this photo essay.

One last thing: Have you ever seen one galaxy punch another? It's a bit hard to comprehend (and explain), but you can see the photo to the right.

This composite image shows the jet from a black hole at the center of a galaxy striking the edge of another galaxy. The main galaxy is the purple-ish blob in the lower left. The companion galaxy is the smaller purple-ish blog diagonal.

A jet of particles generated by a supermassive black hole at the center of the main galaxy (blue) is striking the companion galaxy. The jet is disrupted and deflected by this impact.

I think often about the nearly unimaginable size and nature of the objects within the universe. I also think often of my little girl and the nearly unimaginable complexity of the human body. If that's too much for you, maybe just start with the complexity of, say, just one eye...or your big toe...or your response to a cold...or the processes in the body that happen after you get a paper cut.

From what I was taught in school, it all started with a really big explosion. Bing, bang, boom, eight gazillion years later I've turned from a piece of carbon to having the intelligence to write/post a blog.

Yeah, I don't think so.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Presence of the Hammer

There are very few things that I really desire in this world when it comes to material possessions and/or experiences.

Sure, I like my gadgets and such. Not really what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about a desire so deep that when you belch, faint sounds of Livin’ Lovin’ Maid are actually audible.

One of those desires passed by last night. There really wasn’t any possible chance that I could have ever made it, but it’s nice to dream.

On December 10th, that band that many would rank as the greatest of all time reunited for the first time since Live Aid in 1985. Even then it was only Page and Plant.

Enough talk. Look at the shots and check out some of the video.

01. Good Times, Bad Times
02. Ramble On
03. Black Dog
04. In My Time Of Dying
05. For Your Life
06. Trampled Under Foot
07. Nobody's Fault But Mine
08. No Quarter
09. Since I've Been Loving You
10. Dazed and Confused
11. Stairway To Heaven ← You knew that they had to do it.
12. The Song Remains the Same
13. Misty Mountain Hop
14. Kashmir

15. Whole Lotta Love
16. Rock and Roll

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Daddy and Daughter Time

I discovered one thing during Daddy and Daughter time.

Windows Sucks for Nearly Any Multimedia Project.

Regardless, here is the lip-flap video produced during our co-blogging effort.

Monday, November 19, 2007

In Tressel We Trust

So maybe I'm pirating video today. But would you rather hear me spout on about how Ohio State rules Michigan or would you rather see highlights of the game? That's what I thought.

Monday, November 12, 2007

Everybody Hurts Sometime

That was a tough one for the Buckeyes. But now it's Michigan. I have to say, I'm a bit worried. After all, it's in The Big House. At least Michigan lost this past week, too.

We win, there is a slight chance OSU plays for a National Championship.

The more likely scenario, OSU beats UM and heads to the Rose Bowl. I'll take it!

On a completely different note, I like this song. It's not my favorite, but I like it. Besides, it only takes about 15 seconds before the white-man overbite comes calling.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Finding A Friend

Facts about CKP and Me

* Met in '92 while working at O'Charlies
* Kinda wanted to date but didn't want to spoil the friendship
* Went with CKP to my first and only sorority/fraternity formal
* Above mentioned is a complete story in itself.
* While with CKP and her family at a CU Basketball game, I met coach Frank Howard, who had seats right beside her family.
* She gave me a wedding present the last time I saw her--1998.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Fun In The Mickey Way

So I made it, we all made it actually; five days at a Disney World Resort with a pregnant wife, a five-year-old, and a large man who sweats slightly—but only when in motion or at rest. And ya know what? We all had a blast.

The factors were trying; the heat & humidity, un-cooled water fountains with sulfur-tasting Florida water, llevar a un bebé en el interior, y the pure excitement and exhaustion of a child. Casting aside the standard family bonding and subsequent memories as a given, there was one thing that made it all worthwhile.

After the standard hugs and photos with the toy that became a boy, the first thing she saw when we entered the Magic Kingdom, I turned REW so that she was looking down Main St. USA.

“Look, sweetie, all the way down at the end.” The look on her face when she saw Cinderella’s Castle made all of the trials of parenting disappear.

Other hightlights included:

REW thinking Alice’s name is Allison Wonderland
Talking with Crush about my offspring
Princess Jasmine
The water fountains at Epcot
The Disney 3-D movies
Eating in Cinderella’s Castle
And a 50-Foot can of Play Doh

By Thursday, I was done….DONE! We had made our way through nearly all that Disney has to offer, including Epcot, Animal Kingdom, and MGM. While riding the bus back to our hotel, I was doing just about anything I could to stave the whines, including letting her take countless photos while I made funny faces. Little did she know that while shooting, she captured the EXACT thought that was running through my head.

As a side note, just as I had explained in the previous post, the princesses certainly had it going on. The rest of the family photos can be found here.

Monday, September 3, 2007

Ya Got Yer Ears On?

And so it begins. When I should actually be asleep, I'm writing a blog. It's 2am. I will be boarding a train in a mere four-and-a-half hours, and I'm sure this train is not bound for glory.

I'm not actually riding on a train, it's a jet. I was listening to some rockin' gospel tonight and I just can't get that song out of my head.

The prego wife and I will be exposing our daughter to the finest in American commodities marketing within twelve hours of this post. I make it sound bad, but it's not, really. I mean, c'mon, who doesn't like a land where all of our dreams come true?

Up until this point, I never realized that I've had dreams of sore feet, cranky-tired women, and three-fiddy Cokes. Thanks Walt. Preecsh!

I know, I know, I'm being a big downer about this whole thing. It's really kind of an act, like the one I pull with REW when she laughs at me because Daddy is having lunch with Cinderella in the castle this coming Wednesday. I fain caring, as if I would have any desire to eat with Cinderella.

Have ya seen the whole Magic Kingdom promo thing? Cindy kinda gots it going on, knowwhatImsayin'. I figured that one out during the trip pictured up top, and right about that time when those teen hormones start kicking in.

Actually I'm very much looking forward to this trip. It's been a really long time since I've been on a family vacation, probably the trip to Bermuda that Mom and I took. As you can see, I was looking pretty cool in the mirrors and the LAGNAF t-shirt.

Wait, there was the trip with my brother and his family to the promise land - OH-IO. I was awakened during the drive by the smell of food. Unfortunately, it was food that was being regurgitated upon me as I slept listening to Jerry & Dawg. Who knew TW got so car sick?

I'm not sure that trip counts as a family vaakay.

So I'm off to Tomorrow Land. Except this time I'm going to realize what it was like for my father when he took me in 1977.

Monday, August 27, 2007

A Dumb State

As a father of a brand-spanking new kindergartener, I’ve suddenly become very interested in the public school system offered by my state, the lovely and wonderful South Cackkalacky. The following is what scares me….and then there is this video that just drives it all home.

Alliance for Excellent Education Report – June 2007

• Only about 54 percent of all students in South Carolina graduate on time from high school with a regular diploma.

• Each year nearly 30,000 students in South Carolina do not graduate with their peers

• Dropouts from the class of 2006 cost the state more than $7.8 billion in lost wages, taxes, and productivity over their lifetimes.

The Education Trust Report – 2005

• Two states, New Mexico and South Carolina, have decided that as long as graduation rates in their high schools don’t actually decline, schools have met the improvement goals of the federal law.

South Carolina Kids Count Report - 2007

• South Carolina ranks an "uncompetitive" 46th on the well-being of children, (ahead of only Mississippi, Louisiana, Alabama and New Mexico)
• On both state and national tests, especially PACT and NAEP, over 30% of 8th grade students in South Carolina do not achieve minimum academic standards and 70% fall short of the proficient level deemed necessary for skilled participation in the international marketplace

What’s up with that?

Wednesday, August 8, 2007

Crayons, Funky Ears, the God Thing, and Shootin’ the X

If I had a nickel for every…..wait, clique……My time seems to be slip slidin’….cheezzzzy…..If time was a vice squeezing my nuts…..wait, too dirty….Let’s just say that my wife and I, like most working parents, have a lot going on during the summer.

The biggest challenge that is literally coming down the pike (I flipin’ hate that expression) is the product of my X. And I guess I really shouldn’t call her a challenge because she ain’t so much trouble right now. I guess the big news is that it has actually become a she. Or as the doctor explained, “You’re either going to have a girl or a very disappointed boy”. So much for dump trucks, racecars (without the “s” it’s a palindrome, ya know), motorcycles, and other testosterone-laden times. Alas, I’m destined to play with pretty particulars and pink things for the rest of my life.

My future holds a house of three females, five if you include the cat and dog. Don’t get me wrong, little girls are the shiz-nit. If a snap was all I need do to change my life, I wouldn’t even consider it. However, girls eventually bring boys into the mix. Now I’m going to have to worry about twice as many gropy little paws and shit-talkers. If I’m able to teach my girls one thing—and only one thing—about boys, it’s going to fall into the realm of kicking them in the nuts without hesitation. I know it seems harsh, but I was a boy, and I skirted—but completely deserved—getting a few shots during my teen years.

And the list continues….

My daughter starts school...SCHOOL…in two weeks. How did that happen? School supplies cost about $70 and included 800 glue sticks, 400 boxes of Crayolas, a sack-full of additional crafty-type things and a bag of M&Ms. When did M&Ms become school supplies? Are they included in the back-to-school tax-free weekend list of items?

In three weeks I have the pleasure of taking a 5-year-old and a pregnant woman to Disney World for 5 days. I’m going to eat lunch with the Disney princesses in Cinderella’s Castle one day. The next day I’m going to eat dinner with the Disney princesses in some other location. I wonder if the prince’s will be there. I figure we can shoot a little pool, smoke cigars and talk of conquering the world while the women eat. It’s a castle; they have to have a pool table, don’t they?

Last week I went to Promise Keepers. I’ve never been an overt Pentecostal-type Christian, per say. My religious beliefs and/or actions usually come in quiet form of being a faithful servant to God, my family and others. This, in addition to prayer, personal reflection, and fellowship with other Christian men at Brookwood Church.

PK, however, is the X-Games of Christianity. The program, at the very least, will make you stand up and take notice of your life. Dynamic speakers grab your attention with exciting stories of faith, adventure and leadership. Blasé Christian pop and a capella standards are kicked into high gear with the Promise Keepers band, PK7.

Highlights for me included comedian Brad Stein. The truth behind his Wussification of America bit is as real as it gets. Bob Cornuke told his tales of proving the bible, having AK47s pointed at his head and posing as a doctor to escape execution. I wonder if his captors ever considered filing a malpractice suite against him? Dan Seaborn hit so close to home with stories of normal family life that it made me fall in love with my wife all over again.

The embedded video is a project that I put together from a hodgepodge of video I shot at Promise Keepers 2006 in Atlanta, photos that I shot from PK 2007 in Columbia, SC, and video that I borrowed from the PK Website. It’s only about 4 minutes and well worth a look.

…and the beat goes on.

Friday, July 27, 2007

A Seemingly Strange Request

Bamn! It’s just been kicked up three notches. No, not a spice-injected fried turkey or zesty meatballs, my life. Although, metaphors for the first two could probably be fashioned.

My lovely wife is pregnant and feeling it hardcore. Must have something to do with her pregnancy category, that of advanced maternal age so says the physicians general. Then there is the fact that today, July 27, 2007, is her last day of work. She starts a new job on Monday.

In addition, I’ve just returned from my 20-year class reunion. This is where I figured out that I’m finally too old to hang out with the boys for four days in a row. They’re too old also. It didn’t stop us; the after effects just tend to linger longer.

I saw on several accidents my 9-hour drive home. Being in a sentimental state of mind, I started thinking about all of the lives affected by such tragic events. Will those people live or die? Will they be brain damaged or have a full recovery? Do any of the accident victims have a pregnant wife?

Any of those accidents could have involved me. Who knows, really, if or when it might happen? It’s not something about which that I concern myself by thinking. However, the question that I pondered most was that of memory. Will the victims remember what happened?

I want to know, so I’m going on record right now with a request. Should something –anything- tragic happen that leaves me unconscious or unresponsive in a hospital, I want my friends and/or family to document everything. I want photos. I want video. I want interviews with family and friends during the process. I want tears and stories and laughs. I want physician progress reports to the family video taped. I want a video camera by my bed so that any visitor can pick it up at any time and document what’s happening.

If rehab is involved, shoot it. If I have convulsions, shoot it. If I’m drooling all over myself, shoot it. Interview my friends and family at my bedside, in the waiting room, or taking a smoke break. Do not ponder any questions of integrity or morality or scruples. If you have such discussions, shoot those too, but do not haggle over what seems right or wrong. It’s my life, and I give you unwavering and unquestionable permission to document any and all progress (or lack thereof) and/or state of being.

The only person who can request that you stop documenting is my wife; not my mother, my brother, or anyone else, and only if you, the shooter, believe it’s detrimental to her present well being. The next day, start shooting again.

Should I die, give all documentation to my brother, first, or my wife, second. My eldest child, at the appropriate age, should be given possession of the documentation to do with as she/he pleases. Should my wife want possession, all documentation can be given to her with a promise that she doesn’t destroy it.

Why? That’s easy. When I recover, I want to know what happened. I want to see what I looked like, sounded like, acted like. I want to use my experience to help others, if possible. Memories during such emotional states are simply unreliable. Videos and/or photos don’t have such issues.

Yes, I know, it seems like a morbid, slightly strange request. The funny thing is, I’m in a great mood. So many positive things are happing in my life that I can’t even begin to explain. However, I can’t seem to get these thoughts out of my head.

A good portion of my life revolves around documentation. It’s my gift. My documentations of the lives of others could easily tell a significant portion of my life story. So it only stands to reason that when I can’t document what could possibly be a major hitch in my stride, should it ever happen, I need my family and friends to do it for me. It would be the greatest of favors.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

A Grape -or- Just Shy of Buckeye Size

God is great. If that first sentence turns you off and causes you to stop reading, well, you’re going to miss it.

Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, those things that define greatness. My wife is one of them. Our rabbit hole seemed to once equate in scale to Sizemore’s abuse issues or the brilliance of the iPhone marketing team. It wasn’t much longer than a year ago.

Kids, too, are fantastic. Only a child can, without forethought, stick a streamer of toilet paper in her bottom and prance around the house proudly exclaiming her likeness to a pony.

Believe as you will, but without God there is no understanding of true forgiveness or sacrifice or grace. Without God, my wife and I would not have been able to forgive one another. Without forgiveness, our daughter would have grown up in a broken family, halving her auto amusements and purposeful attempts of levity between two homes. And without my wife and my daughter, my life would seem pointless.

So what’s the point? The point is the grace of the Lord and the riches that it brings. The point is the true meaning of love brought forth as a child teaches you to be a parent. The point is an understanding that family makes one whole. And the point is represented in the picture above. If you don’t get it, zoom out by clicking here.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

To Every Thing…

You’ve probably noticed that my blogging frequency has gone the way of cosign. What can I say? There are times that I have an opinion and… Wait, I always have an opinion on everything. It’s just the amount of time that I have to voice that opinion seems to continually shrink.

First up on the day, news so big that it can only be described as equal in scale to that of the distance between galaxies. However, you’re going to have to wait. I’m sorry.

Secondly, I think I’m obsessed. My high-school reunion is coming in the near future. I’ve put together a simple discussion board and blog so as to circumvent the evil classmates dot com. I’m also working on a secret project for the reunion that is taking a huge amount of time. Between scanning old high school documents, photos, and the like and then working on this other project, I’m investing something like 20 hours a week. I’ve been doing so for a few months.

The third thing on my list of mentionables is my buddy, MD. MD was the first person to show me how a Betacam works. He taught me all the basics of editing, composition, gathering proper sound and everything else involved in TV new gathering. MD and I became brothers during this process and I consider him one of my best friends. I’m happy to report that MD is finally, FINALLY, getting out of the news business. His last day is tomorrow. He and a fellow reporter are starting their own production company. And to that I say, ROCK ON!~ Check out his new business, TomorrowVision Media.

And the last thing on my list today is Paris Hilton. I just couldn’t pass it up. An insider at Camp Paris gave this quote yesterday to a national news source.

“The way this case was handled was a disaster,” the insider says. “Nobody goes to jail for DUI that long. It was all the lawyer’s fault and we’re looking into what recourse we have.”

Guess what? It wasn’t the lawyer’s fault that Paris went to jail. It wasn’t the lawyer’s fault that Paris went to jail for an “unusually long” period of time. And it wasn’t the lawyer’s DUI charge.

The video to the left is of MSNBC Anchor Mika Brzezinski and her response to her producer leading with a Paris Hilton story. Certainly a must see if you've ever been in TV news.

And my praises, rants, and musings cease for today.

Friday, June 15, 2007

If I Had Possession

Seeing as how father’s day is but a few days away, I think that it’s time for me to make a list of those things that I want. I’m speaking neither about theology and/or faith nor those things that are simply impossible, such as Otis dressing less gay or GROB having trustworthy integrity. This list is made of nothing more than wanted material possessions with an midland or higher ooh-aah cool factor.

1) Google - Yes, that's right. I want to own Google. The company has so many cool things that they simply give away. I like giving away cool stuff. The link will take you to Google Labs.

2) EzVision Video eyewear - Seems pretty darn cool to me.

3) iPhone - Have you seen the latest ads? The link is to one of them.

4) Mac Pro - I have one at work but I want one for home. It's like the ultimate computer and can be upgraded for years to come.

5) A Wired Home - Imagine every electric object in your home integrated wirelessly, controlled by one remote and accessible/controllable via the Internet. You could check from your phone whether you left the iron on and then take the necessary steps at the press of a button, or have an email alert if a something strange is happening.

6) One Massive Hard Drive - This kinda goes hand-in-hand with the above. It would be used to store every photo, movie, song, document and the like. On a properly networked system, these items could be accessible via the Internet and/or a LAN. No more paper and no more CD/DVD!

7) Nikon D2X Camera with a Nikkor DX 10.5 mm Fisheye Lens - No real story here. I just like taking good photos with great equipment.

8) Sony HDR-FX7 HD Handycam - High Def prosumer video in a small package. Very cool!

9) Bose Lifestyle 48 Home Entertainment System - I can't imagine better sound. However, I'd like to wait until they come up with a version that has a Blu-Ray DVD player.

10) Eric Clapton's 1964 Gibson ES-335 - One of the greatest guitar players playing one of the greatest guitars. I want it.

So there ya go. This now ends my greedy materialist rant.

Tuesday, June 5, 2007

Please Welcome The New Irish Bubba

Jack William Reilly. What? Are we in Camelot here? Am I kin (or close to kin) to the 2044 presidential candidate? How wicked cool is that. Or maybe, as Jay might hope, Jackie-boy could be an upcoming replacement for Mike Lowell. Who knows? Seeing as how the boy ain’t yet 24-hours old, maybe I should set my hopes on seeing him and his happily astounded parents home from the hospital safely.

There are very few words of wisdom, if any, which can prepare my buddy and his wife for the times to come. Inconsolable crying seemingly without reason isn’t logical and is very hard with which to cope. New babies cry a lot, too.

So to my friends I say a few things. These are not words of wisdom, but certainties.

Trying to describe the changes in your lives beginning right now is energy worthlessly spent.
  • Soon you will be peed on, and you’ll laugh.
  • Your decision to handle the present situation is the best…(uh, sans shaking).
  • Babies cry inconsolably at times because they have to expend their energy. It’s the only thing that they know how to do aside from eating and pooping.
  • When it comes to loving or holding your baby, too much is never an answer.
  • The complexity of growth and simplicity of a child will make you ponder your beliefs.
  • News stories about a child being harmed will illicit a new emotional meaning of rage and sorrow.
  • Your appreciation for your parents will drastically increase.
  • Your spouse’s business trip is no longer bachelor/bachelorette time.
  • The aroma of milk poop will become synonymous in your mind with being home.
  • Regardless of current size, you will need to go purchase a new hard drive for all of the digital photos and video.
  • Your protective instinct is very empowering
  • Having the grandparents baby sit, however often, isn’t taking advantage of them.
  • Scheduling a date night with your spouse, beginning right now, is unbelievable important.
  • You will soon understand the meaning of true, unconditional love.

An unexplainable space/time continuum force is about to enter your realm. The phenomenon is known in parental circles as T6O4O9M8U4C84H7S4H5I4T. It’s a force that acts very much like a black hole. It will find any randomly passing square inch of open space and suck it into an exponentially shrinking environment.

The paradox lies within what your eye sees and the actually math equaling the square footage of your home. It all looks and measure the same, but your living space continues to disappear day by day.

I’m currently working on my own equation to contradict this force but have yet to make substantial progress. So far I have SqFt>M=M+C2trashcan

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Tag, I'm It

It’s a blog game where writers eTag one another. It is then responsible to write about certain aspects of It’s life that certain others may or may not know. It is also responsible for tagging several others. I doubt I’ll do that.

Now that I’m It, I’m going to write about me, not that I don’t really write about me every other time. My spin on the game is going to be a little bit different. Considering that life is significant, I’m going to dribble monumental moments that have certainly impacted my life. I’ll probably forget one or two, but I’ll get most of them. So hold on to your hats because here we go:

  • Born - Same year that man 1st walked on the moon; Woodstock; Hillary and Norgay made it to the top
  • Sometime between day one and year seven – Met for the first time soon-to-be life-long friend, Fluid
  • ’77ish-‘78ish – Met for the first time soon-to-be life-long friend, Popeye
  • ’77ish-‘78ish – Parents divorced
  • ’79 – Parents remarried
  • ’80 – Father died; Brother moved to college; Mom working full-time
  • ’81-‘82 – Met for the first time soon-to-be life-long friends, Crad, Brew
  • ’82-’83 - Met for the first time soon-to-be life-long friends, Cerra
  • ‘83 – Accepted God as my savior; became a member of the RUMC - I believed , but had an understanding of a teen. A point made obvious by several of the following.
  • ’84 – 1st use of adult beverages, and got caught - Cerra, RB, Popeye, Def Leppard
  • ’84 – Suzuki Shuttle, my moped
  • ’84 – 1st kiss-JS; First time I ever felt a girl's boobie, Shannon (someone) from Doylestown
  • ’84 – High school freshman
  • ’84-‘85 – 1st smoke, both the brown leaf and the green leaf
  • '85 - Got busted by RHS for smoking pot, suspended for one week
  • ’85 – First Concert, Motley Crue w/ Y&T opening
  • ’86 – Lost a status with the help of JS
  • ’86 – 10-0 football season, 1st long-range goal successfully accomplished as part of a team
  • ‘86 – My mother remarried, BF
  • ’87 – Graduated High School; Began College
  • ’87 - Met for the first time soon-to-be life-long friends, TF, VW
  • '88 - Worked at Stone Lab, an island in Lake Erie
  • ’88 – First long-term girlfriend – TB
  • ’88 – Obtained my first real job at the Faculty Club
  • '89 - TB and I drove to the Grand Canyon, worked as wait staff at the Bright Angle Lodge for the summer
  • ’90 - ’91 - Met for the first time soon-to-be life-long friend, LM
  • ’90 – Popeye starts college and we move in together
  • ’91 – Met for the first time my nephew - TW
  • ’91 – First Grateful Dead Show
  • ’92 – 1st true broken heart - TB
  • ’92 - Graduated from College (struggle!); moved to Gvl, S.C. and in with my brother, his wife, and his two kids; Met for the first time my niece - KW
  • ’92 – Obtained my first professional position at WYFF; Met and started dating Kimberly
  • ’92 - Met for the first time soon-to-be life-long friend, MD
  • ’92 – Met for the first time my future wife, PH
  • ’93 - Met for the first time soon-to-be life-long friend, JR
  • ’93 – Cousin, KW, killed in a car accident
  • ‘94 – Started dating my future wife
  • ‘95 – Started shooting TV News
  • ‘95 – Windows 95; first computer;
  • '95 - Jerry Garcia dies
  • ‘95 – Met for the first time a person that would later help cause havoc in my life, EJS
  • ’96 – 1st award for photojournalism
  • ’96 – Moved in with PH
  • ’98 – Married PH; 1st time home owner
  • ’99 – 1st Emmy Award– Collaborative Effort
  • ’99 - Met for the first time soon-to-be life-long friends, MB, BW
  • ’00 – 2nd Emmy Award – Best Photography
  • ’00 – Switched positions at WYFF from photojournalism to web-based journalism
  • ’00 – ’01 - Met for the first time soon-to-be life-long friends, TG, GD
  • ’01 – Entered the field of public relations, a local hospital
  • ’02 – My first digital camera
  • ’02 – Diagnosed with ADD & HD – drastically over medicated, extremely life-changing, opening of a new world
  • ’02 – My angle was born
  • ’02 – Joined Brookwood Church
  • ’03 – My first recognition of possibly being over medicated on adderall
  • ’03 – A year of firsts, mostly dealing with shame, embarrassment and GHS; fixed medication issues
  • 03 - Purchased my first personal video camera
  • ’03 – Beginning of a long journey to fix that which was broken in my life
  • ’04 – New Job - 1st PR agency job - resigned after four months
  • ‘05 – PW's dad dies
  • ’05 – New job – Editor and Chief of Upfront Publishing, former publishers of three magazines, laid-off
  • ’05 – New Job – Public Relations Clemson University; began a quest for knowledge dealing with all things computer, digital, and communication; my 1st digital SLR
  • '06 - Started my own personal website
  • '06 - Joined a men's small group at my church
  • ’06 – Gman dies, video
  • '07 - Started Blogging
  • Today – Happy Birthday to Me
By the way, the photo above is the house in which I grew up, 147 Grandview Blvd.

Friday, May 18, 2007

The Illusion of Growing Up…and a Big Tornado

The Graduate:
I am the very proud father of a graduate. Amongst a large mix of gleaming grandparents, crying pre Ks and frazzled but pleased parents, the Overbrook Baptist Church preschoolers took to the stage Thursday singing a mix of traditionals before teachers handed out graduate certificates.

I can’t believe that at the end of this summer my little girl will be going to big school. Right now she’s on-the-books for Mitchell Rd. Elementary.

I’m still hoping for Stone Academy. We’re 3rd on the list to get in. As a graduating present, Mom and Dad gave REW her own (Wal-Mart special) digital camera. Surprisingly, it works fairly well. She’s thrilled…as am I.

Visions or Illusions:
The things that I take for granted are amazing to me, and it’s take a child to make me understand.

The RER clan, REW and I made a quick trip to Greer Family Days last Saturday. Both Otis and I spent about $30 on $5 worth of food before spending another $7 to ride the jumpy things.

Who knew that God was about to go bowling after the first bouncing fiesta?

Our first refuge seemed great until we discovered the wind was blowing in our direction. The brick overhand didn’t help much. We then darted across to the shallow awning of the Greer Citizen.

This is where we stood for the next ½ hour making reference to Caddy Shack and joking about the citizenry of the town while rain torrents rotated to pesky drizzles and back again.

Otis the Younger learned to mimic the fearful sounds of REW after each major clap despite his daddy’s pleas to raise the arms in victory and then punch it home. Having a daughter, it’s always fun for me when a friend’s male child exhibits girly traits.

Digressing: Most adults would wash the day with a stroke of bad luck. The treat actually came after the rain. After nearly five years of reading in various books about them, REW saw a rainbow for the first time. I think it was probably The Younger’s first as well.

Judging from REW’s expressions, I would have to conclude that the prismatic colors are both visions and illusions…at the cost of $74.

On a Completely Different Note - Before and After:
Pictures are many words, but I’m going to give you a few words anyway. If you’ve been dead to the world for the last couple of weeks, you may not have heard.

A large tornado caused extensive damage in Greensburg, Kansas on May 4th. Okay, large is a bit of an understatement. Reports claim that the tornado was 1.5 miles wide. ONE POINT FIVE MILES WIDE!

Imagine a destructive whirling mass filled with cows and cars, light posts, two by fours and aunt Janet’s dentures rapidly advancing on your position.

I can only imagine that it sounded like a freight train traveling through my back yard.

However, I don’t have to imagine the destructive force. These before and after photos give me a pretty good mental image.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Hey Joe Died

It was me a hundred times over during the course of nearly ten years in the TV news industry. Somewhere on a highway shooting the scene of an accident was where I cut my teeth, or at least learned how to always white balance. When the weather was bad and driver visibility lessened was when I was dispatched the most.

I once did a 11p live shot in the sleet/rain on I-385 at the intersection of I-85. We were stationed at the apex of a blind hill so we could get microwave reception. The on-coming drivers saw nothing until cresting. They would then be blinded by the frezzi on my camera and any extra lights I could set up before deadline. Mix in with the weather and the bright lights the ohhh & ahhh factor of a big TV news van and a reporter. What you get is nothing but a journalists’ nightmare.

To me his name was Hey Joe. That’s what I said every single time I called the assignment desk at Fox Carolina. The response was always the same; a semi-husky and friendly tone of, “Hey Tim, what’s going on? How are ya?”

Joe Loy was one of those embedded Upstate journalists with nearly an entire career covering local news. Like most journalist that work in this market for more than five years, Joe knew everyone…and their phone numbers. He knew how to get from here to there no matter either location. He understood news and he understood Upstate news. There is a difference. He was a very sweet man who always had time for conversation, and he always cared, or at least seemed to care, about the hack pitch du jour.

Joe worked the assignment desk at Fox but would pick up a camera from time to time. He was certainly no stranger to it. While covering the subsequent gawker wreck of a major accident on I-85 in Spartanburg County yesterday, an impatient driver recklessly cut off a van along that stretch of highway. The van driver overcompensated trying to keep his vehicle out of danger. Investigators are uncertain right now if the van hit Joe or if it slammed into the news vehicle and the news vehicle hit Joe.

I wonder if the impatient driver was hurrying home to see his kids. Joe has kids, too. I’m sure the driver learned this information on the 11p news last night. He certainly didn’t stick around scene to find out. When the police find him (or her) and take him to jail, I wonder if his kids will miss their father. I also wonder if this man (or, again, woman) has enough integrity to step up to the plate and turn himself in. I wonder if he even knows it’s his time to bat or did his impatiens leave him blind to everything that happened, everything except that which was in front of him.

Joe died doing that for which his professional life was dedicated. He will be deeply missed.

More about Joe | More about Joe | More about Joe

Friday, April 20, 2007

Take a Cell from W. D. Griffith When Parenting

There isn’t one all-encompassing answer when situations like the recent shooting at Virginia Tech happen. However, prophylactic protection for such random acts of violence begins at home, and it’s the duty of all parents to participate.

The causes of such situations are rooted in many different aspects of life. Mental health is one of them. Mental health is certainly real and an issue in both children and adults. But there are many other factors at work; proper parenting from day one is the most important.

If a child doesn’t feel loved by his parents, it has a dramatic affect on the child. He/she will never have the ability to love. Subsequently, such people will mimic those relationship aspects with their children.

Parenting is also involved in teaching respect for everyone and the opinions of others regardless of race, religion, gender, sexual orientation or body type. Children tease other children, but it can certainly be minimized by teaching what is and what is not proper respect for others.

Active participation in a child’s life by both mother and father is essential. Every child must learn specific roles or traits from a man and a woman. If the child doesn’t receive any one of these numerous characteristics, an instinct jones will cause them to seek until they find. A prime example is that one girl that you knew; you know the one about which I’m speaking. She’s the one who lacked a strong male influence in her life, and probably the one with whom you know a lot better than the other girls in your class.

Children’s thoughts and feelings need to be respected and validated. Telling a child that he/she is wrong without an explanation doesn’t work. Essentially, it’s nothing more than rejection. Positive reinforcement works indefinitely. Negative reinforcement creates a cycle passed on through generations of intolerance.

Proper parenting also involves teaching children how to deal with their problems, no matter the size or circumstance. If you come from a family that sweeps problems and issues under the carpet, your children will again mimic this attribute in their lives unless the cycle is broken. Hear no evil, see no evil, ignore, repeat is not a healthy way to live life and not a healthy thing to teach children.

Respect for diversity is a hot topic right now, and for good reason. It is the golden rule, it’s the second part of the Great Commandment (Mark 12: 29-34), and it’s the proper way to live your life and teach your children how to live their lives.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not throwing stones. I have no right because I’ve made mistakes. I can assure you that I will make more. However, recognition of those mistakes, learning from them and breaking the cycle of intolerance must be the cornerstone for building the next great generation.

Friday, April 13, 2007

Idiots Have Their Places In The Newsroom

A career telling the story of others’, as you might expect, brings you in contact with thousands of people over the years. As such, it doesn’t take long to figure out the world is teaming with idiots.

Becoming jaded is, in part, a resultant defense mechanism of the profession. You simply have to become hardened to horrible things that happen to good people as well as seeing good people do horrible things. Having a front-row seat to the world in which you live isn’t always as good as it sounds. Tragedy happens. I’ve seen it; women get raped, children die horribly by accident and purposefully at the hands of another, and psychos walk into offices and start shooting. I ain’t talkin’ bout no puppy-kitty love-in fest feature story.

The idiots are the part of the profession that keeps us all grounded. They are the ones who distract us after weeks of telling the detailed story of a woman who straps her children in the car and drowns them. They are the ones who give us stories to tell while having a tall frosty, and they also help us dissipate any journalist-on-journalist flap that happens daily (“Just jazz it up a bit with some nats.”)

There are several variations of idiot, and we love'em all simply because they make us laugh.

THE DAILY IDIOT: This is the most common. He’s the one who calls the newsroom on a daily basis to either talk or complain about something. Most of the time this person is lonely and wants to talk to someone.

One South-Carolina hot August day my buddy receives this call.

“Yeah, uh….is this the newsroom?”

“Yes sir, how can I help you?” (side note: it’s 5:30 p.m.)

“I see you guys doing stories on how to keep cool. Well, I just got out of the shower and had a towel wrapped around me but didn’t have anything else on. I walked past my fan, and that blew right up my towel. Boy, that sure is keeping me cool. Just wanted to let you guys know.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll pass that along.”


THE STUPID IDIOT: This person simply doesn’t think before speaking.

“Hey, what newspaper is this going to be in,” he asks the photojournalist who is shouldering a 35-pound Betacam, schlepping a 15-pound metal tripod, and wearing the photog equivalent of Batman’s Bat Belt.

For those not in-the-know, a huge Betacam with mentioned accessories looks nothing like a standard 35mm still camera.


“Channel 4”
“Yeah,….uh, is this Channel 4?”

“Yes sir, how can I help you?”

“Hey, does my kid have school today,” the caller asks the wet journalist who picked up the newsroom phone after coming in from his 5 a.m. snow-coverage liveshots.

Silently the journalist waits for more information. Silence…..silence……silence……nothing except the caller saying, “Uh, hello.”

“I’m not sure,” says the journalist.

“My kid’s school said that channel Foe would tell us if we had school or not.”

“What is my name,” asks the journalist.

“How should I know your name,” says the increasingly frustrated caller.

“How should I know if your kid has school if you don’t tell me which school he attends.”

Again back to those not in the business. This happens 1000 time every single time we have a threat of snow.

For Part II of the Idiots Have Their Place In The Newsroom series, we’ll explore several more types of idiots who help keep the newsroom running smoothly.

On a completely different note, I’ve noticed through my blog tracking stats (which tracks IP addresses, by the way) that someone is googling my last name and “Greenville Hospital System” in an attempt to find my blog? STOP IT!

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Study: U.S. Population Finds Insensitive and Thoughtless Slurs Thoughtless and Insensitive

Yes, I too am jumping on the blogarazzi free-speech wheel of contemporary racial linguistics.

What the hell is going on? Why isn’t the media focusing on the actual issue at hand, the patently racist remark by Imus producer, Bernard McGuirk? His comment that refers to the Rutgers University women’s basketball team as “jigaboos” is by far more offensive and true as defining of a racial slur compared with the thoughtless and insensitive comment by Imus.

Ho, in case you don’t understand, is a gender slur aimed at half of the world population. Jigaboo is racial slur aimed at the entire black culture of the United States.

So there, the line is drawn. On which side do you stand? Are you accepting of ho and not accepting of jigaboo? Is there a difference?

The mass market, in general, would say that there is a difference. Call any woman a ho and you might get a verbal lashing, maybe a slap. Call a man of the black community a jigaboo and the odds are that you’re about to get an ass whoopin’.

[Chorus] Hooooooooo (Ho) / Youza Hoooooo (Ho) / Youza Hoooooo (Ho) / I said that youza hooooo (Ho) - [Repeat 1x] ~Ludacris

[Chorus] I can't believe that she's real... (it was a ho-down) / The way she makes me feel... (another ho-down) / If you knew what I knew... (it was a ho-down) / You would be down in there too... (another ho-down) ~Nappy Roots with The Barkays/Skinny

Why aren’t these people being boycotted, fired, or at least suspended for two weeks? Where are Al and Jesse, and why aren’t they banging on the doors of the company presidents? These types of lyrics are incredibly more damaging than anything Imus said, true? What the hell is going on, I say again. Should efforts not be put where they are most effective?

Look, I’m all about teaching and acting cultural harmony. Honestly, I am. And as a matter of fact, I will not tolerate it within any situation over which I have at least some control. But I’m not going to form a skirmish line outside the neighbor of the intolerant bastard who made the comment.

McGuirk is the idiot. He’s the one who should be fired.

Does Imus deserve a two-week suspension for the ho comment? Sure, that’s fine. Taking into account the context of his radio program, my comment is actually more along the line of “whatever”.

I do have a piece of advice for any of those people who are not on the Rutgers basketball team but are yet still offended by the Imus comment. I suggest that you boycott everything NBC, CBS and General Electric. Go ahead, show’em who’s the boss. You may even want to call the advertisers and complain.

However, I believe that once you realize how such a boycott would take away some of your creature comforts, I bet that you might see a slight tip in the scale of your moral judgment.

Thursday, April 5, 2007

Flippin' Cool

I'm not going to be one to post with content of other blogs, but I couldn't let this one pass by because the photos were just so darn cool. The information comes from Danger Room - Wired News
F-22 stealth jet may be about as useful for fighting insurgents as a snowboard in Baghdad. The plane may cost nearly $120
million a pop, making it one of the most expensive fighters of all time. But hot damn, does that thing look bad ass when it's going transonic.

Those are clouds forming around the jet, by the way. The plane's near-supersonic speed changes the temperature and pressure of the air around it, causing ambient moisture to condense. Clouds naturally follow.

Pictures on the left: Richard Vogel, AP/Yahoo News. High five: L787. Two more pics on the right, one courtesy from the Air Force (via Op For),
the other from the AP...

Wednesday, April 4, 2007

Has The Moon Exploded?

Growing wiser is a perk of growing older until you realize that reality sometimes sucks.

I think reality is the problem that I’m facing, but I don’t know how to further define my issues. I don’t feel good, but my cold and my fractured/sprained ankle are only physical aspects of present maladies. Being a wise and insightful physician of life, I’m diagnosing myself with flu-like symptoms of the soul.

Something is missing is the phrase that keeps ruminating through my person, which is basically a sign of depression. I don’t think depression is what it is. I started digging deeper yesterday into what it is, exactly, that seems to be missing. I found that my former life is missing, or I miss my former life, which ever it may be.

One aspect is the physical part. I’m a bit broken at present. I have a cold that is greatly exacerbated by Spring allergy season. My ankle is horribly sprained, slightly fractured, and I now hobble like the elder who wears his waist at his chest. My hair is thinning, graying, and certainly receding. I have a small patch of strange-colored skin on the side of my head, which makes me automatically think I have skin cancer. And my shirts and pants seem to be shrinking. I blame the shrinking on the washer and dryer versus poor diet and lack of exercise. Some might call that a hitch in my wisdom.

Physical aside, I know that there is something else. My adventurous spirit and passion for spontaneity and lust for the different are all exhibiting strangely as if the moon no longer had gravitational authority over the tide. The power of my moon is missing.

I miss my friends, those who I used to frequently define as part of my personality. I miss the G-man, who died almost a year ago. I miss Uncle Ted, Otis, GROB and our regular adventures. These people made me laugh, and I don’t seem to laugh any more. I miss spur-of-the-moment escapades. I miss gathering with others without having to have a reason. I miss the inspirational connection and shear force that my moon brought to my life.

I’m not sure why I’m unable to adjust to these changes in my life. I have a good life; I have a wonderful daughter and a great wife. Of course there are marital issues from time to time, but it is a marriage, ya know. These things happen.

I believe in God and the power of prayer. I believe that the Lord will take care of the needs of family and me. I have good job and I’m pretty good at what I do. My household income allows enough money to pay the bills and have some fun. I have great friends, although they are a bit more absent than I would prefer.

I am also a member of a men-only small group at my church. Theses guys, I believe, would do anything they could for me if I were in need, but I’m missing a connection with them. I can’t seem to form a bond like I have with my other friends. I think it’s because I fear their judgment of who I am. It’s my fear of their judgment, mind you. I don’t think it actually has anything to do with them.

As with any parent and husband, my life revolves around the sun. In this case, the sun happens to be the two other women in my life. I’m constantly doing something for one of them, or something to improve our living conditions, or planning something that will make one of them happy. But I feel as if I’m running in place. One project ends, the list of others awaits. One bug killed is no different than the another waiting beyond the shadows for the shoe of death. In between, things break and need immediate action. Eight billion inconsequential decisions need to be eternally made, seemingly by me.

I wouldn’t give up any of it for anything, ever.

Why does it feel like I’m always working a job? Where did the laughter go? Why am I sounding like Otis?

What happened to my moon?

Friday, March 30, 2007

My Left Foot…is broken

I’m nearly 38-year-old and ever have I broken a bone in my body…until now.

A week ago I stepped out of my boy alcove. The alcove is set off of the basement, is smaller than a standard-sized room and came as an after thought when making my screened-in porch. About the size of a jail cell, it’s carpeted, insulated, and is decorated with all of my classic rock albums that I no longer play. It houses my musical instruments, a computer, and a small fridge full of miscellaneous beers, sodas, and ½-full bottles of water. If I could mix in a lifetime supply peanuts, it would be pretty much everything that any man needs to survive.

So I stepped out of the alcove onto the basement floor, about an 18-inch drop. Instead of landing on the bottom of my foot, I landed on my ankle. All of you engineers start doing the math: One man at 265 pounds drops 18 inches at a standard rate onto one ankle. This pretty much equals disaster. I screamed as if someone had shot my testicles with a nail gun. The pain was intense, the worst I’ve ever experienced, and the kind that makes you want to toss chow. I started sweating instantly, and by the time I made it upstairs my shirt was soaked. Such a wonderful way to kick off my five-day vacation.

It took me a week before I made a trip to the doctor, although my wife told me I should go after day three of double-wide, purple foot. The first thing that the nurse said was, “oh, ouch”. Thank you for that expert diagnosis.

Dr. M twisted it, turned it and then had it x-rayed. The funny thing was, it really didn’t hurt that much when walking or during the aforementioned twisting and turning.

I didn’t see anything on the x-ray, but I knew something was amiss when Dr. M said to himself, “hmmm, I think I missed that,” while he stood there staring at the bones. He came over, pinpointed a particular location on my ankle, and as all doctors do so well, pushed while asking if it hurt. “Yeouwouchess”, I said. The sweat glands kicked into overtime instantly.

And then the words came, the words I have avoided throughout years of football, mountain biking, hiking, climbing, boating and all the other things that adrenalin junkies do to keep from being bored. “Yep, you fractured it,” he said.

The worst part is that I get no broken bone trophy. It’s not really bad enough to cast because the bone isn’t out of place, but it’s bad enough to use crutches for a month. I have to keep it wrapped in an Ace, keep it elevated, and ice it. I also have to do all the rehab, but I get no cast. From the first time I saw a friend with a cast during my childhood years, I wanted a broken bone because I wanted a cast that everyone could sign. I though it was so cool. But alas, I have strong bones. I guess it’s from all the milk. So, I get no cast but I get all the crappy stuff like ice, rehab, and crutches.

The photo is my foot 10 days after the injury. It’s still looks icky.

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Marijuana Has Ruined My Life. Huh?

…um, oh yeah, now I remember.

The Federal Government has been classifying for a good long time the evil weed as something akin to crack, meth, and heroin.


Yes, poppycock, I say.

Recreational drug use is not good. Some might modify this statement by clarifying with the word, “never”; others might say, “Extensive use of”. I’m sticking with the evidence that shows most any foreign substance abused over a period of time is probably detrimental to living a longer, healthier life and/or personal attitudes and relationships. I lump other items into my categorical statement, items such as McDonald’s, gasoline, and pornography. Still others include spelunking, under-water welding, and anything that allows your body to move faster than bipedal speed.

I’ll just come right out and admit it. I tried pot, once. I quickly figured out that the leaves get stuck in your teeth, the taste is unappealing, and it really doesn’t do much for you. From that point on I stuck to smoking it.

The Nancy Regan firestorm from the early eighties pounded into my head the detriments of saying yes. I answered in the affirmative despite the facts. I did it in high school, college and after. Through extensive research, my findings show that there are far worse things to abuse that fall within legal limits. Alcohol and tobacco are certainly in that list. Yes, I’ve used both. Legally prescribed painkillers, amphetamines, and anti-anxiety drugs are a far bigger problem than sharing a bowl with the boys on Friday night.

Pull out a piece of paper because you're about to make two lists. The first list is one with the names of people you know with a marijuana addiction, the other a list of people you know with some other addiction.

Now, search the Internet to find as many news stories as you possibly can that include something like, "Authorities say this person robbed/raped/fought/killed/over dosed/struggled with or ran from police/caused personal injury to himself and others/wrecked the car/...because he was high on marijuana and/or needed money to fuel his marijuana addiction". Now, same search again except use alcohol or prescription drug X or street drug X in place of marijuana.

Did it just get brighter in here?

Marijuana, however, is listed via federal government statutes as well into the red area of things that will KILL, KILL, KILL. As such, the purposely imposed social stigma gives people a false sense of reality as it pertains to use of alcohol and tobacco.

At times, tobacco farmers/manufacturers receive subsidies that support the growth of the tobacco industry. Tow-back-ee can be taxed, ya know. Taxation is the very idea that lead to the ban on marijuana by making it illegal to grow and then making it illegal to sell without a tax stamp. Additional regulations followed to classify the drug as such to impose a ban on all research…in the USA.

According to the AP, a study out of London shows (not necessarily proves) that alcohol and tobacco might actually be more harmful to you than an occasional spliff, or a spliff-a-day for that matter.

New "landmark" research finds that alcohol and tobacco are more dangerous than some illegal drugs like marijuana or Ecstasy and should be classified as such in legal systems, according to a new British study.

In research published Friday in The Lancet magazine, Professor David Nutt of Britain's Bristol University and colleagues proposed a new framework for the classification of harmful substances, based on the actual risks posed to society. Their ranking listed alcohol and tobacco among the top 10 most dangerous substances.

Heroin and cocaine were ranked most dangerous, followed by barbiturates and street methadone. Alcohol was the fifth-most harmful drug and tobacco the ninth most harmful. Cannabis came in 11th, and near the bottom of the list was Ecstasy. --Full article on MSNBC

Here is the deal in case you don't know. Pot makes you, shall I say, slightly lethargic. When high, it often becomes much more fun to play Xbox than work. To this I say that if you can’t motivate yourself to get off the couch after getting high, don’t get f*ckin’ high, dumbass. If you can’t remember to go to the grocery store after you get high, don’t get high before you go.

Don’t give me that crap about marijuana addiction. I was a head with the best of them. Merely wishing that you had a quarter-bag does not classify as a withdraw symptom, so suck it up and go to work. (Side note: Grocery shopping high is never a good idea unless you want to come home with $200 worth of Soft Batch Cookies and Little Debbie snacky cakes.)

So, is pot a gateway drug? I think that it can be. However, I think the frequency and berth of that gate is substantially increased by poor parenting as opposed to a hookah-toting teen. Do I advocate smoking pot? I certainly do not. Do I care if you do? Absolutely not -IF- you’re a responsible adult and you’re not harming/neglecting anyone. Keep in mind that harm to others comes in many forms.

Has smoking pot ruined my life or my career? Well, I woke up this morning. I’m a college grad, and I hold a professional position that I really enjoy. I’m a daddy, a father, a Christian, and trusted friend to numerous others. People tend to seek my advice and respect my opinions. I do, however, tend to lock the keys in my car from time to time. If that’s a life ruined, well, maybe I should just find the code to my keyless entry—if I can just remember where I hid it.

Whatchew Think?

Monday, March 19, 2007

Because of You, Your Opinion Counts

A resident blogger claimed early Monday morning opinions based solely on the thoughts residing throughout his brain. Now, local authorities are in a desperate search for answers and they need your help.

According to the Old Brain thought police, the blogger known as BuckeyeTimmy brazenly broke into the spinal column while on his way to an undisclosed location this morning. They say that he had one blog in his thoughts. Midway through his journey, these thoughts had multiplied. Authorities say that by the time he made his way to Old Brain, more than three ideas were being held captive.

“Yep, I seen’em,” said one bystander whose shriveling form looked as if he’d lived a life in the Pleasure Center. “I was stopped at Old Brain General pickin’ up some hunting equipment and searching for new shelter. All of a sudden I heard this loud rumbling noise. It kinda sounded like a synaptic transfer was in my back yard. Then I saw a big ol’ group of ideas run past me uh screamin’ and uh cryin’. I thought they just needed the loved of another human, which happens a lot down here in Old Brain, ya know. But then there was this guy behind them. I swore he had tiny little balls of different colors comin’ right out of his head.”

Authorities believe two more captives were taken by the time BuckeyeTimmy arrived at Frontal Lobes. This is where they believe he is hold-up. They say that he impulsively barricaded himself behind a rash of judges, linguists, and puzzle masters whose offices are adjacent to Department of Socialization and Spontaneity.

Taking advantage of their exceptional skills in planning and coordination, authorities came up with a plan to entice the confused blogger into submission by offering a complimentary lifetime subscription to cable pay-per-view. According to an anonymous source within the department, authorities were “confident that the result of their meticulous planning would result in the best possible outcome”. After substantial run-throughs, authorities executed the plan, which was promptly thwarted by the blogger’s eccentric actions.

According to one eyewitness, the renegade blogger noticed the nearly unperceivable movements of the police, stood up, and with spear in hand started chanting, “I AM THALAMUS, I CONTROL THE DOPE. I AM THALAMUS, I CONTROL THE DOPE.”

Frighten by these schizophrenic-like actions, authorities broke plan and proceeded to rendezvous point Old Brain General in search of their mommies. This is when one team member produced a ransom note that he found lying on the ground outside the Department of Socialization and Spontaneity. The note read: _______________________________________________________________________________________________
Dear Thought Police,

Although I am thalamus and the controller of the dope, I feel slightly confused. The ideas that I have captive are driving me crazy with useless arguments and infighting. Each wants his or her place, and each wants to be first in line. If you wouldn’t mind, I would greatly appreciate your thoughts (pun intended..teehee…teehee) on which opinion should be written next. Options are:

1) Mr. A Life Ruined by Marijuana - Huh?
2) Mrs. My New Blogging Obsession
3) Mr. Hey, Hey I Wanna Be A Rock Star
4) Ms. I Want Answers
5) Mrs. Logic and Christianity

Help me Old Brain Police. You’re my only hope.

Kind Regards,
God of Thunder and Rock-n-Ro-a-ollll (Formerly known as Thalamus the Dope Controller)

Authorities have again surrounded the sense-of-self deprived blogger and are waiting for your comments.