There was once a land filled with proud people who were the absolute best at making hammers … powerful hammers. Its people were displaced to what became their native land because of their love for hammers. Before the people of Hammerful came to their new land, they were oppressed by a tyrannical leader who only wanted hammers to be made with his name on them. But those who became the people of Hammerful wanted to be free to make their own kinds of hammers.
There was a great battle between the two sects of people, and those who had left for Hammerful won! They were free to make their hammers any way they wanted. Generations of great hammer makers went by, and Hammerful’s hammers because to talk of every land. There were even people who hated Hammerful because of its freedom to make hammers.
There was once a hammer maker named Werdna who worked for a proud hammer making company. It was a small factory, but the workers took pride in making their yellow hammers. Werdna was very good at making yellow hammers, but he sometimes didn’t enjoy only making only yellow hammers. He also enjoyed going home and making red hammers and blue hammers and green hammers. His hammer company found out about Werdna’s hammer making at home, and was not happy. Werdna was told not to make such hammers at home. He was told only to make yellow hammers, or to only make hammers that made the yellow hammers look good by comparison. Werdna got into trouble for his red hammers, in particular. Werdna was told his hammers were bad. Werdna was told he didn’t have the freedom to make whatever hammers he wanted to make. He was very sad, but there was nothing he could do. His hammer making had been censored.
This is the beginning to what could be a sad ending to the story. But may the people of Hammerful remember what their ancestors meant when they said they wanted to have the freedom to make hammers of any kind.
I had to say goodbye to an old friend today … my favorite pair of jeans.
It wasn’t a total farewell, 
however. They perfectly-fitting denim sheaths have now been regulated to “day off” wear, as they are no longer suitable for office attire. The hole in the crotch started off small, and grew to a point where you could see though the opening if you happened to be staring at my … ahem … area. But today, when I bent down to take a picture of a discus (at a track meet) that had lodged in the ground, I heard a painful rip from my oldest and most trustworthy jeans.
I take this time to congratulate my trusted friend. May you forever enjoy your lazy days of TV watching and beer drinking. No longer will you need to sit at a desk or commute to work. Enjoy the slow life of retirement. I’ll see you on Sundays.
If I offend you with this, lick my balls.
In Greenville, probably the place to be on a Sunday night is Ham’s Brewery. It’s got a huge outside dining area, that open-mic-type music for which 
I am fond and cheap booze ($2 in-house brews and $2.25 hi-balls). I was there last night, and, let me tell you, it was as hopping as any place I’ve been in the past few weeks. Guys, if you’re looking for a place to see some of Greenville’s finest women, it’s no doubt the place to be. Zoom in on my brother getting a little play at the brew house.
But many of those women, and most of the guys, seem to come with a catch — a
catch I’m not too fond of. Should you get a chance to lock lips with one of the opposite sex, they’re most likely going to taste like tar and tobacco. I can’t recall the number of times I thought to myself, only this Sunday, “Damn, she’s too hot to smoke.” It’s absolutely absurd. Why do all of you 20-sumthin’s smoke? What makes you, say, at the age of 14 light up that first cigarette and puff it up? Were you than insecure at that age that lighting a cancer stick was the only way you felt you could fit in? Dorks. Sure, I do my fair share of harmful things. I’m a sucker for a cheeseburger. But, damn, a cheeseburger tastes good. Does your Marlboro? I don’t think so. So, how is it so many people still fire one up every chance they get? I’m a pretty smart guy … and I still can’t get it. Someone, please tell me. Quick, before I kiss yet another tar face.
Do you ever get in one of those moods when 
you just want to sit, drink and listen some some tunes? Sure, who doesn’t. But there are also the times when you want to sit, drink and listen to some live music. I was in one of those moods last night. Now, a few years ago, Greenville was a great place to be in such a mood. There were live music performances everywhere, and on almost any night of the week.
Today’s Greenville, however, is quite different. Sure, there are scheduled rock shows at Dr.Unks, and I’m pretty sure the place that used to be Corrigans still has a few shows every now and then. But with the death of the Attic several years ago and the recent demise of Peasants, the live music scene in Greenville is a barren wasteland of mediocre bands, who may or may not still be in their “still hopeful” 20s.
And what happened to the live acoustic shows? They’ve been cut down to nothing more than 
open-mic-night type performances scattered around the corners of restaurants and small pubs. One such place is called The Back Porch. I’ve written about it before. I believe it had something to do with Coronas. I’ve been there twice now, and I’ve been somewhat satisfied at the musical climate it has to offer. Last night, there were a couple of dudes and their guitars playing a mix of original and cover songs. All in all, it’s not bad. It’s not the downtown Greenville music scene of the late 90s, and especially not the one I’ve heard of from the 80s, but its something. At least you can hear the music and the person next to you at the same time.
You know, if there’s one thing people will 
always get a kick out of, it’s people watching. Tonight, I had just gotten up to head to the bedroom with the laptop, a DVD and a bottle of water … to turn in for the night … when my phone rang. It was a friend, with whom my brother (pictured above) was “clubbin’” as the kiddies say. She needed a ride home, and was surely in no condition to get there herself. So I obliged.
It’s the sights I saw during that pick-em-up from downtown that kept me from falling asleep in the parking lot. I saw one girl, in horrible red 80s high heels, try to skip down the side walk only to fall flat on her face. Seriously, she was too out of it (or simply forgot) to put out her arms to brace her fall. She sat there for a few beats (she was also wearing a denim skirt and black tights … ugh), and then got up, took off her shoes and proceeded barefoot down the sidewalk.
Another pair seemed even more sad. A boy was carrying who I assume was his girlfriend Prince Charming style. This would have been quite touching had it not been for the fact that she probably needed to be carried in the first place thanks to his pouring alcohol down her throat all evening. Anyway, he carried her to his truck, poured her into the passenger seat and proceeded to drive away and out of the parking lot (clipping the curb) without looking either way before pulling into (thankfully) and empty street.
Now, I was only there for about eight or 10 minutes, and sure the time and place of the viewpoint did offer for some interesting sights, but there’s no doubt that people will always find it fascinating to watch other people simply go though the motions on their everyday lives. So, remember: The next time you fall down, pick your nose or sing in your car … there just may be someone watching.
It was one of those ideas that sprang on one random evening several staffers spent at the Harvey Mansion. I didn’t actually think it would come to fruition, as it was canceled almost immediately after it was scheduled.
But, after a small amount of deliberation, it was rescheduled to coincide with the last day of now former Sun Journal news writer Zac Goldstein.
What is Suit Day, you ask?
It’s as simple as it sounds. 
Three usually scruffy sportswriters (and a couple of the news guys) decided to send off Zac in style. Clean shaven — for the most part — freshly washed and rocking coats and ties (Mandy Schulz didn’t actually wear a tie), we decided to show up to work today wearing our Sunday’s best, instead of the usual jeans, T-shirts and sneakers.
The best part about suit day? I’d have to say the look of dismay on the other staffers, and basically anyone who knows me. Before Tuesday, the last time I wore a suite was Sept. 29, 2006. I’m a wedding- and funeral-only suit wearer.
The worst part? I don’t know. Suit Day kind of rocked. It wasn’t even that bad covering a high school baseball game wearing it. I suppose, however, the best part was knowing I’d only have to wear it for one day. These darn ties.
If you’re like me, I’m sure there are things that upset you. And, if you’re even more like me, I’m sure there are things that anger you for no good reason whatsoever. For years, whenever someone asks me what makes me mad, I’d just tell them that slow drivers do. About five months ago, I took a new job that came with a longer commute. Since then, my road-rage tendencies can be felt creeping up on me more and more often.
It happens most on Streets Ferry Road … the only “fun” part of my commute. Part of the good thing about living in a rural area is getting to drive fast on the country roads. 
Now, don’t get me wrong, I like to drive fast, but I don’t drive dangerously or at ridiculously break-neck speeds. I drive a Civic, not a Corvette. That being said, my Civic is quite the agile little car. That’s what I like to take advantage of on SFR. It’s not as winding a road as some of those in the mountainous regions, but it’s winding enough to get your heart pumping if you drive it just right. And to do so, you don’t even need to go over 60 MPH (the speed limit is 55), you just need to NOT go 40. The kind of driver that really aggravates me on this road is the one who drives 60 on the straights and slows to 40 on the curves. That means you can’t get the thrill offered by the twists and turns, and you can’t pass without being asshole-driving-too-fast guy. Oh, I pass them anyway. Continue Reading »
I’m keeping the Flikr account, because it’s easier to make those photos show up on the front page over there. I did, however, add a Picasa Photo account. It’s powered by Google, and most of their stuff is pretty awesome. I like Picasa better because it allows for more storage space and more albums. Flickr allows for three. Already, I have seven on the Picasa account. Anyway, check them out … they’re over there under the “More Photos” heading on the right side.
OK, I’ve been in Greenville now almost as long as I’ve been anywhere else. As best I can tell, there are two seasons (not four). There’s a cold season and a warm season. I say warm basically as a way to say “not cold.” For, I know, warm and hot are two different things. But for all intents and purposes, my Greenville “warm” season finally began tonight. There is but one thing, and one thing alone, that I cannot do in the “cold” season, and that is drink a Corona. I’m sorry, it is a warm-weather beverage. 
As you can plainly see, I had, tonight, my first Coronas of the season. But, more importantly, I found a new spot to park my ass while doing said Corona intake. It’s called “The Back Porch,” and it was recently bought by a friend of mine and her brother. Indeed, I tell you, there’s nothing like Coronas, live music, warm weather and free popcorn — which TBP has.And so, with my hearing live music and drinking Corona, the Greenville warm season has officially begun. Yipee, and all that.
But I decided to take an evening to play around with the old Web site. As you can see (if you saw it before), I took down to resume page, as I’ve had that new job now for just about five months. I added some stuff to the main page of the site. I got a new Flickr account, and I’ve got the 10 newest pictures on the right side. If you want to see all my old sets, click on the “Pics Page” link at the top. Now, that like takes you to Flickr (through my site), so now I don’t have to sort all my own photos (I just let Flickr do it). I’ve also added a bit o’ sound. If you don’t like it, figure out how to make it stop (or just click the ’stop’ button over there on the right). That’s it for now. I’m sure I’ll have something to be opinionated about soon, but it’s just too late tonight. Peace!
