Posted 5:34 PM
Careful now...

A recent rant from About That Time...


DUMB.. DUMBER... AND JUST PLAIN F***ING STUPID..

Weekends around our newsroom are usually pretty quiet. Tonight wasn't. We spent several hours under tornado watches and warnings tonight.. there were even reports of funnel clouds and tornado touchdowns in our viewing area. We took several calls from people who were concerned about their safety. When things got really bad - at about 9:30 - we started doing regular cut-ins to prime-time programming. That's when it happened.

Let me say upfront - I'm a huge Law and Order fan. Tonight was the season finale of one version or another of that show. This was the least few minutes of the (much hyped) last show of the year. I would have been upset had I sat home watching for 55 minutes and not been able to see the end. I would NOT have called the TV station and said any of the following:

- Why do you need to keep interrupting my show? Only a few people are in danger, but a lot of us is watchin' the show. (No doubt a "good Christian" who spent the morning in church).
- How stupid are you? Don't you know this is the season finale?
- Can't you just rewind it and show the end now?
- Anderson is in the middle of your viewing area? I think you'd better check a map...

Those weren't even the worst - or most insulting ones. There was the guy who called back three times. Apparently he didn't believe that I really didn't know what show was on our air - and no, in fact, there weren't any other people there he could talk to. There were the ones promised they would never watch us again (then wanted to know again when we were re-running Law and Order).

Of course, there were people who called in on September 12th pissed off because they were missing their soap operas because of "them buildins" in New York. The boob tube comes of age...
--END OF BLOG--

Good point, my friend.
Just be nice. These are the same people you'll be interviewing 3 years from now when their trailer gets swept away by a tur-nader...

[TAKE PKG]
THEY SAID FROM THE START...
(nats/John: Weather could get very nasty this afternoon...)
IT WOULD BE A ROUGH GO...
(nats/Carol: Continuing our team coverage tonight...Newz 4's TG shows us the difference between a watch and a warning)
AND TO TAKE ACTION.
(nats/tornado sirens)
(nats/John cutting in: Tornado warning for Anderson County...)
BUT AS WE'VE COME TO LEARN IN THE UPSTATE...FOR EVERY ACTION...THERE IS AN UNEQUAL AND IDIOTIC REACTION.
(sot/Jeb Hoss/Anderson Estates doublewide dweller) It sounded like a freight train! And I'm steamed up cuz we didn't get no warnin' at all from the danged T-V!
(Begin Pre-prod)
BUT THEY *DID* GET A WARNING. AT 855PM, THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE ISSUED A TORNADO WARNING FOR ANDERSON COUNTY. AT 856 PM, NEWZ FOUR WAS ON THE AIR.
(End Pre-Prod)
(nats/John: Take cover immediately!)
WE SHOWED THIS INFORMATION TO JEB...HE SAID HE HAD BIGGER PROBLEMS TO TAKE CARE OF.
(sot/Jeb: Well I was tryin to watch the end of the fishin tourny-ment on that station but they cut off at the end right when they was sayin' the winner and the second I heard beep beep beep I ran for the phone to make calls cause it was a real fox pass to interrupt my fishin show)
NOW JEB HAS NO TV...NO TRAILER...AND NO DOUBLEWIDE...
(sot/Jeb: It was mamas trailer anyway)
AND IF THE NEXT TORNADO DOESN'T KILL HIM...MAYBE DARWINISM WILL FINALLY DO ITS PART.
(covered sot/Jeb: Did I mention it sounded like a freight train?)
TG, N4.

Posted 6:13 PM
CW + EFO = WOO

For those of you at the Eddie From Ohio show, I think you'll agree...it rocked! Great energetic set. Entertaining inbetween songs as always.

For those of you who don't know EFO, check em out.

When I win the Big Game, I will sing with them.

As a parting comment...what's your favorite EFO song and why?
Great Day is amazing...wide range of vocals, sweet harmonies, and it just makes ya feel so damned good. Who knew I'd be a fan of faux-gospel?

Posted 1:41 PM
PS

He sucks. But he's sucks so much, he's now award-winning. Congratulations G-Rob. You've represented the day-turners well. The coup begins!

Posted 1:40 PM
You tell me

This is a small experiment born from brainrot (hey it's my day off, I don't have to think) and curiosity.

As much as we want to admit or deny it, we crave feedback. In a way, we're all a bunch of ego-centric people. Hearing about the things we do, be it good or bad, help us become better at the things we do.

So with little to say, I offer up this: If you're reading this, leave a comment. Not necessarily about this post. How you doin'? How am I doin'? What have you wanted to say to me in the past week or month that you've forgot to say?

Then of course, when I check the "comments" next time and see "20" next to it, that ego-centric feedback craver will be squashed.

Or, leave no comment...as a way of silently saying "Screw You, Ted."

It's up to you.

Posted 6:12 PM
Now arriving...

One Step Left International Airport is opening soon. I would normally wait to unveil this, but since we all hate "ribbon cuttings"...I'm just uploading it piece by piece. I still have a few html/java issues to rework (be patient, I'm learning)...just watch out for construction along the way.

Posted 4:55 PM
I Panicked

Time travel is possible. I've done it.

Saturday night is an open, empty box. We've filled it with all kinds of things in the past few months. Semi-pro hockey games, where we've turned into beer-swilling hooligans with an affinity for banging plexiglass and telling players we've had phone sex with their mothers. CP conventions, where've we've turned into beer-swilling hooligans with an affinity for banging the table and finding amusing uses for dollar bills other than to hear Gwen Stefani and Billy Joel wail from the loud speakers above us. Guitars, decks of cards, and a lot of laughter...usually makes an empty box seem like a Christmas package -- you're always willing to unwrap it and enjoy whatever's inside for awhile.

The box gets tattered sometimes. It needs some repair work, so you can keep putting those things inside it and still enjoy them. In need of serious repair, Saturday night became a work night. PR_Hack and I looked for some things to fix the box with. Bowling pins, go-karts, and video games didn't seem to work. The box just needed to be a little bit newer. So we took it back in time.

On a clear, warm, South Carolina evening, we threw the top back on Hack's Mustang convertible...blasted Widespread Panic on the CD Player...and went cruising. Up and down the streets of town, we were high school seniors. We went looking for hookers (just to see 'em). We stopped off for Camels and Cokes. We dragged Main Street, speakers thumping, watching the people watch us. We drove north to TR and got lost with little concern for when we'd find our way again. We drove to the top of the mountain and smoked cigarettes while drinking in the view. We dragged main one last time before heading home, like we were trying to beat curfews. Semi-rebels with little-to-no cause. I miss being 18.

Last night, I travelled back to 19 and went to my first Widespread Panic show. The stuff my brother refers to as "Jam Band Crap" was like reliving some point in college....one of the good ones, anyway. When it seems like there's nothing else to do in the world, being a hippie for a day is as good as anything.

I'm back at work feeling somewhere in the 26-31 range today. By weeks end, it may be time to jump in the time machine again and head for the hills on an open road to the future, flooring the accelrator and running over responsibility with a V8 engine that purrs like the past.

Posted 1:31 PM
The reset button

The moon that night was incredibly high in the sky...I'd have believed not even NASA could have reached it. Waxing crescent, they call it...when it builds toward being full and beautiful and awesome. Most waxing crescents aspire to be that full moon. Admired, recognized, heralded, talked about, pointed at, pointed out, painted up. This one was different.

He had his choice of a million different seats in the sky, some closer to the action, the sounds of a Spring evening, and the tiny people who hold that admiration for all things cellestial. Yet he took a seat somewhat higher up...just distant enough to make us wonder why, and just a little in back of us...maybe this would assure him he'd be getting that craved respect as heads craned around to get a better view.

But later on, it was clearly evident why he'd distanced himself from us that evening. He wanted some time alone. Next to the beautiful, waxing crescent gazing down upon a sea of frivolous insignificance, was a bright burning, lone star. She was set apart from the other stars only by distance...and a glow only a little brighter than her peers, the reflection of her partner making her own firelight seemingly brighter.

They set in the sky last night, side by side, holding hands as much as celestial bodies could. Astronomy does nothing for me. Page after page of constellation names has long since fallen from of my textbook mind. This was an appendix I'd forgotten about.

It was perfectly fitting for an evening of listening to the lullabys and anthems of my life. Soothing and sweet, as close to any definition of bliss I could have wanted on Carolina Thursday night. Surrounded by the people our parents warned us about, I smiled at the warm embrace of the April evening air...looked back at him and her and smiled as a way of saying thanks, and simply enjoyed the show.

Posted 11:45 PM
Meat-iocrity

Friends, don't hate me...hate my cultural upbringing. I'm fairly certain my folks have direct lineage to neanderthals, cavedwellers, and other hunter/gatherer type clans...as well as the Japanese and their love of sushi. Growing up in my house, the grill wasn't really used for cooking...but more 'searing'. Friends often poked and prodded their entrees at dinners my parents invited them to. I could see them squirming nervously, trying to decide if it was immature to quickly hide a big hunk of meat in a napkin at age 16. You see, in my house, we eat meat with cold, red centers. That includes a variety of beef cuts...steak tartare...and encompasses hamburgers in there as well. Sometimes, I forget that other people think cold, red centers are...well...cold, red, and nasty. They're not used to it. Some also say it's unhealthy. I come from a family of cast-iron stomachs. So I felt a little bad when I heard that a few of you may have had the proverbial "issues" post-Buffett-Buffet. If I made any of you sick at my rain-soaked cookout, I'm really sorry. I've been reading up on the subject. The red meat I eat will always be rare...but at least I'm now educated. Please come back next time I fire up the grill. The theme: Blackened Cajun...heavy on the blackened.

Posted 7:53 PM
See Spot Run...

...and sit...and lay down...and drink water...and a whole bunch of other crazy stuff.
Link to pics of the Happy Dawg

Posted 7:47 PM
A non-fortunate moment

(In best Seinfeld voice) and what's the deal with fortune cookies?

In a very Zip-like rant today, but in very un-Ziplike fashion...I went off on the small chinese woman manning the cash register at the Orient (My evil twin's favorite chinese buffet).

"What happened to real fortunes?" I asked her, handing her my abused Bank Of America checkcard. Before she could open her mouth, I continued on. "They used to have real fortunes in them. 'Good luck is coming your way'. 'You will find the love of your life in the place you work'. 'Beware of a tall stranger wearing a Fidora'."

"These days, it's all sayings. Proverbs. Catchy slogans almost. 'When it rains it pours'. 'A keen mind keeps cool in all situations'. 'Your father's name is Chuck'. They should be called stating the obvious cookies.", I thought to myself.

The small Chinese woman handed me back my worn checkcard and a receipt. Glancing at it, I smiled to myself. If I'm not going to get a real fortune in my cookie...at least I had eaten much more than my share for the six dollars I was paying.

Reaching into the big bowl of cookies, the small Chinese woman smiled cheerfully. "Here you go", she said with a heavy accent that made me chuckle. "Maybe this one bring you good luck."

As Paw-Paw paid his check, I tore the plastic-wrap from my 'stating the obvious' cookie, wondering what clever phrase I'd later leave in my pants pocket and run through the wash.

I grabbed both ends of the cookie and cracked it open gently.

It was empty.

No fortune. No clever phrase. No lucky numbers. Not even a hint that a rectangular piece of paper ever existed.

I turned to the small Chinese woman. Paw-Paw snickered. I clenched my jaw. "There's NOTHING in this cookie!"

Small Chinese woman smiled. "Oh no!", she said...with a hint of mockery in her voice, "Very bad luck!"

I believe this woman had the empty cookie under the counter, just waiting for a Westerner to come up to her register and start bitching about changed cookies. She was waiting for me. That cookie had my name on it. That cookie had my fortune in it.

I'm sticking to Oreos from now on.

Posted 9:42 AM
That's the ticket

It's a wonder how many of us have been hooked by the thought of winning millions. It's the water cooler topic of the week, really. How would spend 200+ million dollars? Or 2 million dollars at that?

The lucky ex-con from Kentucky is spending his 41 million dollars lavishly. 3 homes, 7 cars. An antique sword collection. A $78,000 watch weighing over 2 pounds. The only refreshing thing is his wife...20 years his junior, he met her in a taqueria/bar somewhere. She says they're rich in love. I want to believe her.

I can smugly say I wouldn't go the extravagant route as a winner. I think part of me is to simple, and part of me is just too cheap and miserly, no matter how much money is in the kitty. But after the lawyers had been called and met with, this would be the course of action:

1. Out with the bills. There's still a few bills I need to take care of...a polite way of saying debt. It's not large, it's not overwhelming, but it's the thing that gets taken care of first.

2. House. Here, in Greenville. Seriously. Someplace in North Main, or maybe down in Augusta Road...something on the smaller side...older, might need a little fixing...which I'd do myself until I couldn't take it anymore. 4 bedrooms, 3 with actual beds. The other would be a music room. You have to fill the house with some stuff of course. I'd buy a piano...maybe a baby grand. It'd keep my fingers busy. It'd also have a fenced yard for Jacques. He'll probably get a few extra rawhides to eat in the yard.

3. Car. Pay mine off, and keep it. Fix the windshield. Have it detailed. Buy South Carolina tags for it. I'm happy with that truck. I don't want anything else immediately. I might sell it and get something a little fancier...maybe a GMC Yukon or something with 4 doors. Maybe even a Suburban for the gang to pile inside and go places.

4. Family. Pay off Mom & Dad's place (and you thought I was such a disappointment...pshaw!). Pay off their cars and bills. Provide them with another good chunk of change so they could both retire immediately. Give my dad the capital to start another business of his choosing, something that would make him genuinely happy. Pay off brother's car too, and get him a house somewhere after he decides what kind of job he wants and where he wants to do it. He'll also have a good chunk of change, but he really should keep a job. You know, to be fair.

5. Friends. This is where it really gets complicated. You don't have to tell me who my friends are and who my friends aren't. With me, it's pretty clear-cut. Anyway, there'd be something set aside for the friends. The ones far away will have an open-invitation for airline tickets to come down and see me at any time. The ones nearby will be well taken care of. It's OK to put that in generic terms...they'll get what they need plus a whole lot more. Money can't be any fun unless you share it. The best part is I know they'll be there to live my slightly-changed but still non-extravagant lifestyle.

6. Job. I'm contracted. I still owe WYFF-TV 715 days of my life "in the employ". And, also to be fair, I think I'll honor that. After that, some time off. Maybe a year or so. There'd be a lot of travel involved in that year. Australia, Japan, and a return to Europe are a must. Not 5 star hotels, but good solid places that aren't filled with snoots. I'd still travel commercially until I have my pilot's license...then I might get a plane. Then back to work...doing what, I'm not sure. Maybe running a sports bar I build here in Greenville or a restaurant in Seattle with 10 tables, where I hire my dad as a guest cook and mom as a hostess.

7. Other miscellany He-Con:Vegas members have their trip paid for. So do LEAFers. Heck I might even be nice enough to pay for a She-Coner's trip too. Biyatch's contract will be bought, and she will be banished to a faraway land. PR-Hack gets a brand-new kick-ass twelve string. Otis gets a new one too. Mean probucer gets a big-ass TV, and he can give Gladys a raise! G-Rob gets digital cable. Zip gets a bunch of DVDs so he doesn't have to hunt them down on E-bay anymore. Su & Riles get to come visit us at a private EFO/Cigar Store/Acoustic Syndicate show at the Handlebar!

It's a good thing saints don't have a better chance than sinners in the world of luck...that means my crack at 300 million is as good as anyone's come Tuesday. Here's to a little luck, and the creativity and dreams it fosters.

Posted 4:27 PM
Looking in the mirror

One of the few things I've learned in this no-frills trip called life is that being introspective from time to time is a good thing. It may point out some things you're doing right. It may point out some things you're doing wrong. It may leave you satisfied that you're doing a good job in your life. Changing for the sake of changing isn't something I find necessary.

G-Rob says he has an ego problem. Who wouldn't agree? He does, obviously. But it's one of the reasons we love him...and tease him about it. Being a friend, he takes this teasing in his good-natured fashion because he is indeed a friend. I often tell people I'm just getting to know "You know I'm a friend if I make fun of you. It lets you know I'm pretty sure you're comfortable with it...and comfortable with being a friend to me".

We spend a lot of time teasing each other...and a lot of times making fun of, slamming, berating, and bitching about other people. For the most part...this is all warranted. These people have, in our minds (and the minds of many others!) wronged us in some way. They don't fit in with our philosophy about what makes a good person. They make us angry. They leave us with no choice but to degrade them behind their backs. I don't have a problem with that. People bitch. It's our nature.

But then there's the other people. The people who probably just don't deserve our ribbing, fun-poking, and other assorted negative comments. They may be fat...stupid...nerdy...and all the other things that we aren't....or are we? Let's face it, several of us could use a "Self Improvement Project" (which some are trying, granted, and kudos to them!). Some of us are incredibly moronic sometimes (driving home after many beers comes to mind). And a lot of us are true geeks (let's face it, we spend an awful lot of our time talking about flying plastic).

I've been wondering what these people who we incessently tease behind their backs...say about us. We get talked about, whether we care to admit it or not. What do you think they say? Is it the same things we taunt each other about in a friendly way, only they do it not-so-friendly? Is it entirely different things we can't see? Do I get called a loudmouth...a spaz...a shifty character while those fat, stupid, nerdy people sit around and drink their beers...wearing THEIR crowns as perfect people of the world?

I don't want to get cliche by quoting 80s movies...but think back to the Breakfast Club. The letter in the end identifies each of them as a brain...a jock...a princess...and a burnout. Maybe that's what makes us all human beings.

The fact that we talk about people...negatively...will never change. I said it before: People bitch. It's our nature. Sometimes, though, it's a good idea to think of the good in the other people...and the bad in yourself. If nothing else, it'll keep egos in check....G-Rob's, Yours, and Mine.

Posted 10:03 AM
LOL, SOL, and more

It was a stormy night in Norman, Oklahoma in the Spring of 1998. Low pressure was moving in swiftly from the Texas Panhandle...but the inescapable feeling of high pressure swept over us. Buried among stacks of reference books, well-crafted masters' theses, and laptops was a desire to break away from the confinement of twentysomething-page term papers and looming comprehensive exams.

A road trip was out of the question...there just wasn't time. None of us bought into the meditation craze and frankly, our legs were too sore from sitting in the uncomfortable chairs of Room 1462. There was only one solution...and it could only be seen through the distorted glass of a 3.2 percent by alcohol bottle of Coors.

Shiner Bock flowed as freely as our spirits at a crowded, loud, and none-too-fancy bar called Bison Witches (say the name over and over again and you'll figure it out...hint: it was famous for its chicken salad during the day)...and so the pressure of the end-of-semester rush was relieved. We weren't alone in our decision...in fact, looking around at the other tables loaded with overstressed college students, empty bottles outweighed people by about 6 to 1.

I got drunk that night. Shitcanned, wasted, walk-home-because-you-can't-find-your-car-keys-even-though-they're-in-your-pocket-and-you-shouldn't-be-driving-anyway drunk. We contributed to a lot of noise in the noisy bar. We sang song parodies loudly about hated professors, class brownnosers, and other things we were attempting to wish away though the power of spirits. Greg fell down walking to the bathroom. Let's face it, bars are dark...and spirits don't help balance.

I'm not one for drinking anytime something goes wrong. I manage my life fairly well without needing the crutch of barley and hops to make it through the day or solve a problem. But there's a time when the bullshit is so thick that you're no longer wading in it...you're swimming in it...and the seas are rough.

This week, the seas were angry. I fought back. As I said to my evil twin at the Grrrowl game last night, "I'm going to get Schnookered tonight".

Indeed I did. I LOL'ed my ass off (that's Laughed Out Loud), I even ROFLMAO'd. I sang a silly song parody about Evil Twin that this morning, I can't recall...but I remember much LOLing going on from everyone else and a hearty "Thank You Greensboro" post-performance.

I feel better today. I shoved the neverending multi-page term paper of life aside for about 6 hours and left it all up to Kerrs Light and good friends. It worked...and I'm thinking if I'd done anything truly embarassing, it would have caught up to me by now. Now back to regular programming...and trying to figure out what that song was.

Posted 3:07 PM
502 Error

It happened again. I just wasted 19 minutes of my time crafting a well-told story on here, submitted it for posting, and got a "502 error"...something about being too busy.

I clicked the back button, and got nothing.

Post gone.

So here's the short version:

I have to get up earlier 2 days a week now.
I like sleeping.
I won't get to as much anymore.
Screw the world, and technology.

Posted 4:37 PM
The night was humid

That's how you start the book.

It's one of my "secret favorite" movies..."Throw Momma From The Train". Secret, because admit it...you'd feel like a fool if someone asked you what your favorite movie was, and you answered with an 80s movie that was, in all honestly, quite silly. And if you don't remember, Larry (Billy Crystal) is a writer...and Owen (Danny DeVito) is in his creative writing class. Larry wants his wife dead because she stole his book and published it as her own. Owen wants his mom dead because she's a crotchety old bitch. They comically and dramatically agree to "criss-cross", with Larry killing Owen's momma and Owen killing Larry's wife. The movie's amusing...full of hi-jinx, and it's a good movie...because I can remember a few lines from it. Forget meaningless "stars" and cliche "thumbs ups", a movie should only be rated by the amount of lines you remember from it.

"The night was humid".

It's how Larry is attempting to start the book that he'll get revenge on his bitch wife with. Only humid doesn't sound quite right. There's another word...something that more descriptively illustrates the fact that there was a lot of moisture in there mixed with tension, swiriling around in the darkness with fury and excitement. But he can't find that word...and stumbles over that opening line for a long time. A classic case of writer's block. The thoughts are in his head, the pen's in hand, the paper, a thirsty river waiting for a good story to fall upon it like a Spring thunderstorm. But nothing comes. Nothing, Jerry.

I'll put part of the blame on a lack of daily blogs on wild schedule shifts and trying to get my well-designed but increasingly stubborn blog online. I'll put the rest of the blame on the night being humid. I've started umpteen posts about one thing or another...funny, sad, neither here nor there. But I haven't been able to finish any of them. I tell half the story, re-read it, and wonder what the hell my mind has been cranking out for the previous 8 minutes. It's jibberish and garbage. It makes no sense. It doesn't have a beginning or an end.

It's 2 pieces of pizza. 2.

And yet I read everyone else's blogs...some poigniant, some pontificating, some playful. But all seemingly well written, well thought out, and well done. They're stories...or at least clever masquerades.

Later on in the movie, Owen, Larry, and Owen's momma are riding on a train. "The night was humid" comes up again. Momma looks at Larry with that bitter, scrunched up face, and in that scratchy voice telling us she's had one too many cigarettes the night before, says:

"Sultry. The night was sultry".

Sometimes, all it takes is one word to realize the complex...really IS simple. Look for more frequent masquerades *and* pieces of pizza in the near future.