Maybe There's Something In This After All

I received one of the best professional comments I've ever had tonight. I was sitting through the Westerville planning commission meeting, and followed a guy into the lobby to grab a business card.

When I introduced myself and said I work for the paper, the guy recognized my name. I wanted to do a story about his business, and he seemed happy to hear it. He commented that I've been really busy lately, and I asked him what he meant. He said there had been a lot of big things going on in Westerville lately, and every time he saw a story about something that meant anything my by-line was on it.

He mentioned a couple specific stories I had written in the previous weeks, and when I shook his hand, he said he was excited that I was writing a story about his business, because he thought I'd do a good job.

That's a damned good feeling. And it comes on a good day, a day after pissing off nearly half of my sources in one afternoon. It might be hard sometimes, and thankless a lot of the time, but this writing thing just might work out. Besides, shooting guns is the only other thing I do well, and a military haircut is a little too short for my liking.

If It's Not One Thing, It's Another

Work has always been a safe haven. No matter how messed up the rest of my life may become, I've always managed to leave it in the parking lot, come in, put on my reporter hat and crank out copy. Lately, even work has started to become a mess.

Office politics be damned!

I realized today that when you stand up for yourself, look someone in the eye, and tell them that you're not going to be taken advantage of, whatever the cost, it makes you feel a little better. Probably earns you some respect in the process.

Ask the office, I'm in a bit of a blunt mood today. Who knows, if any of you manage to reply to this before the day's out and I'm in the same mood, maybe you'll hear a bit more. Throw me some talking points, kids. Anything goes.

RIP Danny

Many of you may have heard me ramble about the Tourettes Guy web site over the past few years. I've never been able to tell if it's a fake or not, but it's always been this balding guy with glasses in a neck brace, sporting a Tony the Tiger t-shirt, who apparently has Tourette's Syndrome. His kids are always running around filming their dad getting into goofy situations, all the while screaming profanity in creative, inappropriate ways.

Well, apparently, Danny the Tourette's Guy died a few weeks ago.

Am I still allowed to laugh at his videos? I can't help but chuckle when he screams 'Bob Saget!' after hitting a bees' nest with a lawn mower.

Anyway, here's a pretty long video compilation of some of his better scenes. Enjoy, and spread the love.

Shameless Plugs

This whole deal about telling news stories with a camera is getting a little more streamlined. Here's the latest video I've put together for ThisWeek. And for my film enthusiast friends, note the absence of wipes and dissolves!

People Coming Together

Wow, since I've added this new site meter to my blog, all kinds of interesting info is popping out of the woodwork. Apparently, as well as my die-hard core of Columbus OH readers, I'm also getting hits from Romania, Australia, the U.K., Italy, Korea, Peru, Poland, and even the good 'ole Canucks are reading MMNIE! I would say welcome in each of your native languages, but odds are if you're reading my blog you speak English. So...

Hihowaayyaa!

As so many newcomers are hitting up the site (I suspect the multimedia has a bit to do with it) I'll make an effort to be a little less small-scale with my posts. Maybe a little info on Ohio? Who knows... you tell me. Those of you reading this who don't know me on a personal level, pipe up! The management's doing some marketing, baby!

Training For When The Zombies Come

Since LT has already blogged about our fun weekend out in the country, I won't elaborate too much on that. But I will show you guys some video I put together, as everyone gets some hands-on training in proper zombie extermination.

The House of Nightmares

More to come. - the management

We Have Sound!

And now my blog has a playlist for your listening pleasure.

I Will Now Never Move to New York City

In the words of Lewis Black... HAS THE WHOLE WORLD GONE CRAZY!?!

Where's George Carlin when we need him? Probably not in NYC... He's liable to be censured by city council. Apparently his seven words that can't be uttered on television wouldn't be welcome in the Big Apple.

I'm making this statement completely without researching NYC's council, but I'll bet you anything it's a bunch of uncomfortable, rich white people who are all for this stupid, enraging idea.

YOU CAN'T BAN WORDS!

I hope massive crowds mob city hall, repeatedly chanting 'Bitch' and 'Ho' until the council members realize that they're total idiots. If I lived there, I'd pull a Jack Nicholson from the Shining and send them a 500-page manuscript made up only of those words (in eye-pleasing patterns).

And what are the next set of words the scared white people will try to ban? How about 'poor?' Or 'Dumbass?' They've already tried it with the word 'nigger.' I don't use it, but I'll be damned if some politician's going to tell me I can't if I wanted to.

It's a shame some of the things you see in this world when you ain't carryin' a gun.

Sacred Cows

I mean, come on. I know many of you (especially KYT) simply adore this idol to self-indulgence, but geesh. And we wonder why Hollywood makes fun of Ohio. And I haven't been able to verify, but I've heard rumors that there either is, was or will be a life-sized butter statue of Jim Tressel.

Am I the only one to see a metaphor here?

No wonder we're all fat! Well, some of you aren't. I know I could stand to lose a few pounds. But that's just all the more difficult, after staring at a statue depicting our biggest source of calorie intake (did somebody say McDonald's?) made out of one of the most fattening substances known to man!

This is what I picture - it's the last day of the fair, and Jim Tressel is starting to drip. Countless hordes of overweight Midwesterners, clad in t-shirts depicting Old Glory and wearing NASCAR hats, see this atrocity. In a fit of terror they begin consuming their dairy-sculpted god (Don't let that flag touch the ground!). And of course that would be the day some AP photographer is covering our fair... what an image. I'm picturing something like the zombies in Day of the Dead devouring the guy near the end of the movie. Except instead of blood and guts, it's butter and self-loathing dripping down their chins.

For God's sake, folks, eat an apple.

Oh, Sweet Irish Festival

I love the Irish Festival. You meet so many new and interesting people. And sometimes, you meet people like this:

And then, of course, there's some more performances: