Hey! Hey! Look! Monday is a day off for some people! It's MLK day! Because I'm too lazy to write anything new pertaining to this holiday, I shall post a reworking, of sorts, of a post which first appeared on this blog way back in 2004. This very reworking was read almost word-for-word by Penn Jillette on his now defunct radio program. The actual text for your readin' pleasure follows, but for those of you who would prefer to be read to, you can hear Mr. Jillette's interpretation right here:

---
When I was in elementary school, leading up to the inaugural Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Junior holiday, all us school kids got some heavy book learnin' in about segregation, civil rights and many other facts (also: minutia) in regards to the life of Dr. King. In addition, in honor of the impending FIRST EVER official celebration of Dr. King's life and work, our school was to hold an assembly presentation, with us 6th graders doin' the bulk of the presentin' in question. Now, if you've never experienced an all-school assembly first hand, here's some quick background...All of the children who attended the school, along with all of the faculty and staff, would gather in the gymnasium/cafeteria and watch the "chosen ones" (in this case, us) put on whatever little show they (we) were supposed to...well..."put on." After that, there would usually be a "second performance" in the evening for all of the parents. This particular production was no exception. We all rehearsed songs and skits that, presumably, were designed to help us sixth-grade crackers give all of the younger crackers some insight into the life, death and accomplishments of Dr. King. The highlight of our little show was the closing which, it was decided, should be a live reading of Dr. King's (wildly popular) "I Have A Dream" speech.

Just so's you know, I'm really very "white." In fact, I bypass "milk bottle" and head straight for "total cracker," I'll readily admit that. This does not mean, however, that my schooling was void of diversity. On the contrary, I had a very "diverse" group of classmates, racially AND socio-economically. The community where I grew up is not far from a number of military bases and, as such, many different kids sporting many different backgrounds came and went while I was in school. There were numerous children of every imaginable ethnic heritage at the elementary school I attended. Getting down to brass tacks here, there were children at the school, in the same grade, of African-American descent available to read such a speech. Why am I telling you all of this? Well, it's simple, really...

In what can only be described as a stroke of (ignorant) brilliance, on what was supposed to be one of the most racially unifying days in American History, the teachers involved in putting the MLK Day assembly together tapped ME to read Dr. King's famous speech...

I am not kidding...

Obviously, I was flattered to have been chosen for such a responsibilty-laden assignment, but I couldn't help but be confused..."Why not John Parmalee or Edward? Why me?" I inquired. I was then told that, after much thought and consideration, I was chosen because I had the ability to (and I quote) "do all of those funny voices."

No shit..."Funny voices."

Let's put this into perspective, shall we? One of the most brilliant orators of the 20th century delivers an empassioned speech dealing with deep issues such as civil rights, equality and hope during a very tumultuous time in our history at great personal and professional risk to himself and I'm supposed to re-enact it on the FIRST EVER day officially set aside by our country to recognize his accomplishments because I can do "funny voices?" Apparently, I'm supposed to approach the "I Have A Dream" speech as if Dr. King were a cartoon character, how frickin' wrong is THAT? Regardless of the circumstances, the assignment was mine and "no" was not going to be accepted as an answer, so I took on the task of learning Dr. King's famous speech as best I could. During the assembly, I was to break into the speech directly following a song, performed by other members of my class. I was told by the music teacher that, if I missed my cue, there was potential to be drowned out by applause, so I HAD TO BE ALERT!...I COULD NOT MISS MY CUE!..

"Hell yeah," I thought, "I DAMN WELL better be alert"...It's not bad enough that some chubby little blond afro-headed kid was set to mimic the greatest civil rights leader in history, but what if, all of a sudden, people could be led to believe that I was merely hanging out at the front of the gym muttering to myself and disrupting the celebration?..The potential for disaster, I estimated, was very, very real. I rehearsed my part until I was sure that I had it down and then, just 'cause I was mortified, I rehearsed some more. I was going to be READY, dammit, regardless of how odd the whole thing seemed. Soon enough, the day of the assembly arrived. At the appointed hour, all of us whiteys took our respective places at the front of the cafeteria and set to the task of celebrating the life of Dr. King via skits and songs. While all of this was going on, there I stood at the front of the gym, paper in hand, ready to orate to the masses. I was dressed in my best slacks, a green polo shirt and my black "Members Only®" knockoff jacket, my hair having been recently and neatly "picked" into a wonderfully round yellowish cloud. Just as the song, the end of which was to be my cue, "ended" and before our audience could "applaud," I spoke, using the most authoritative tone that my 11 year old throat could muster...

"I HAVE A DREAM TODAY..."

As I delivered my adolescent version of one of the greatest speeches of all time, I was pleasantly surprised to find that all of my preparation had not been in vain. The words flowed from my mouth with passion and inflection, in fact, I barely had to look at the words on the paper which I had been clenching so nervously in my hand the whole time. As I finished the speech, I felt very calm and very relieved. The other students clapped and cheered and it seemed that the whole assembly had been quite the success, as elementary school assemblies go...I now realize what an honor it was to have been chosen to read the speech, even if it was an obviously screwy thing to begin with. I had a job to do and I did it. As long as I live, I'll never forget that I had the privilege of being "King for a day."

Labels: audio, lame stories, me roots, tales of triumph

Hey, kids! It's awesomecast day! Indeed, much like last week, Justin Carmical, his wife Jennifer and my sister Heather join Collin and myself in studio for some reminiscing and (heh) whatnot about (I hate to admit it) professional wrasslin'. Since you're already curious as to why, go ahead and clicky to listen:

Labels: audio, awesomecasts, me roots, podcasts, pro wrasslin'

A week or so ago (the days, they blend together), some fool on my myspace friends list sent out one of them bulletin things, the title of which was "25 bands which I have seen live." Or something. Anyhow, I usually don't pay a bit of attention to things like this (case in point, my sister "tagged" me for some-damn-thing last week) but after I read that title, I had to pause for a moment and think...Have I ever even seen 25 whole performers or bands live? You see, I'm not one to go running around seeing concerts...This is partly due to my abject disdain for most of the popular musics of today (HEY YOU KIDS! GET OFF OF MY LAWN!) but mostly due to the fact that a good lot of the people who I would wish to see are dying off at an alarming rate. In fact, it's a safe bet that if I want to see them play live, they're either retired or dead (or a combination of both). Anyhow, I WAS able to cobble together a list of 25 bands/performers which I have seen live and am ready to share said list with you all now, not to show how cool I am...Oh no, this list will most likely accomplish the exact opposite of that...I merely wanted to show how way out in left field my music tastes are. Everybody ready? Let's take a ride...

1. "Weird Al" Yankovic - I've seen him in concert about 5 different times, the first of which was a concert at the Colorado State Fair about 6-and-a-half years ago. At that time, my wife wasn't terribly interested in going to a Weird Al show but afterward (and despite falling down in the carnival midway after the show and busting up her knees), she was impressed. Weird Al puts on an excellent show and if you hang around long enough after the show is done, you will have an opportunity to meet him. He'll shake your hand and sign an autograph and talk with you briefly. Seriously, he has to be one of the nicest people you'll ever meet, show folk or not.

2. The (totally fake) Coasters - When I was maybe 20 (no...No, I was 21), I was deeply immersed in oldies music. At that time, I was working as a DJ at an oldies radio station and even in my spare time I was listening to as much 1950s music as I possibly could. My favorite group was (and still is) the Coasters (you know, Yakety Yak, Charlie Brown, Young Blood) and when I heard that "the Coasters" were going to be performing at the Arvada Center for the Performing Arts, I jumped at the chance to purchase a ticket. During the show, I was trying to figure out which Coasters were which and finally realized that I was watching a pack of fucking imposters. You see, even though the original lead singer of the Coasters (Carl Gardner) owns the name "the Coasters," it's virtually impossible for he and his wife to travel around the country and stop the imposters from performing (especially when venues like the Arvada Center don't care enough not to advertise falsely). If I'm not mistaken, the New York New York Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas has a lousy fake Coasters act performing on a regular basis. Don't go see them...They are fake-ass bastards. Speaking of the real thing, however...

3. Carl Gardner and the Coasters - Before Carl officially retired, I got a chance to see him perform at the Stardust in Las Vegas. It was a one night only performance and, because of timing, I had to drive like a bat out of Hell from Grand Junction, CO to Las Vegas and pretty much straight to the Stardust (I'm only exaggerating a little). In fact, we pretty much bought our tickets and sat down right before the show started. It was awesome, though. being able to see Carl Gardner perform. With the exception of the Bass singer (Ronnie Bright, who replaced Will Jones in the '60s) and the guitarist (Thomas Palmer who joined in 1962), none of the other members were "originals" but what the Hell - It was Carl Gardner on lead tenor...After the show, he and his wife were sitting in the lobby and, with a little push from my wife, I went over to speak with him. He seemed genuinely appreciative that people still wanted to come out and see him perform...I got a few autographs and a handshake and I was on top of the world...

4. Sonny Turner and the Platters - This group followed the Coasters at the Stardust. Sonny Turner replaced the (now deceased) lead singer Tony Williams in 1961. Turner turned out to be quite the performer...He had taken very good care of his voice and still had every bit of range. In addition to the Platters' classics, Turner did spot-on impressions of Ray Charles and Jackie Wilson and even did one of the best renditions of the Spinners' "Rubberband Man" that I've ever heard.

5. The Beach Boys - Even though I've grown to despise them for their lack of originality, when I was a kid, I liked the Beach Boys a whole lot. We saw them at Mile High Stadium in denver in the summer of 1987 following, of all things, a minor league baseball game...From what I remember, they still sounded pretty damn good at that time.

6. John Kay and Steppenwolf - Saw them also at Mile High Stadium in maybe 1988, but this was as part of a larger oldies show presented by KOOL 105 FM from Denver. They rocked it hard and I was able to convince my mom to buy me a souvenir shirt that said "a double decade of rock and rebellion" on the back.

7. Young Black Teenagers - opened for Primus, Public Enemy and Anthrax at the Air Force Academy's Arnold Hall in 1991. Despite their moniker, they were not only NOT black, they did not appear to be young teenagers. They were, in fact, terrible. Whitey-white rap in the same mold as 3rd Bass (except with far less talent, as if that's really possible).

8. Primus - Arnold Hall, 1991. Opened for Public Enemy and Anthrax. I had heard their album "Frizzle Fry" at that point but wasn't sure what I thought about Primus yet. After seeing them live, though, I knew that they were sheer genius in action.

9. Public Enemy - Same concert, double bill with Anthrax at Arnold Hall in 1991. They were...Well, they were ok...I mean, Chuck D. was doing his best and Flava Flav wasn't completely batshit insane at that point in his career, but what I remember most was the segment when they were featuring Terminator X (the group's DJ) and they all seemed so shocked when he pulled out some "pop" sound effect, like he was a master wizard mixer or something. IT WAS A FUCKING SOUND EFFECT...I could do that too...

10. Anthrax - 1991, same concert, Arnold Hall. I liked Anthrax then, they were cool. Once Joey Belladonna left, though...Anyhow, during this show, yeah...I had a great time. Anthrax rocked.

11. Ice T's Body Count - In 1992, Metallica was touring with Guns n' Roses, playing sold-out stadiums. It was supposed to be the concert event of the century. They had Faith No More (a band which I liked very much) opening for them. I'm sure you'll remember, though, that during the Montreal stop on the big tour, dumb ass James Hetfield (of Metallica) stepped into the pyrotechnics and was burnt up like a weenie over a campfire. As such, the rest of the tour stops had to be rescheduled and as a result, Faith No More couldn't open for all of them. The Denver stop was rescheduled for sometime in August and...Well...I had to sit through Ice-T's Body Count instead of Faith No More. That was about an hour of my life that I will never be able to have back. They sucked.

12. Metallica - Mile High Stadium, 1992, same show as above. How do you make even a great concert unenjoyable? here's how: I saw the show with my then ex-girlfriend. See, we bought the tickets when we were still dating and, because of the reschdule, saw the show after we had broken up. Despite that, I remember that Metallica put on an excellent show...The same, though, cannot be said for...

13. Guns N' Roses Who sucked the proverbial balls of the donkey at Mile High in 1992. It's no surprise that the band splintered into many little pieces not long after that...

14. The Texas Seven - A tight, relatively unknown little country/honkytonk combo that opened for Junior Brown. Speaking of Junior...

15. Junior Brown - Master of the Guit-Steel, a hybrid guitar of his own design which he plays in a searing and precise manner. Despite his country roots, Junior will do covers of Jimmy Hendrix in his show as well as a long set devoted to surf music. A must see if you ever find that he's in your town.

16. Rick Derringer - "Bonus" concert following a WWF pro wrasslin' show in Denver sometime in the '80s. It was late, I was like...12, I was tired and wanted to go home, but we stayed and watched him. As soon as the lights went down, the hippies in the audience blazed it up. Dirty bud smoking bastards...

17. Air Supply - Forced to see them when I was 5. FORCED! At the State Fair, no less. I had the opportunity to tell this story on the Penn Jillette show and, since this is really running long, you can HEAR me tell about it by clicking here.

18. Rascal Flatts - Has your wife (or your girlfriend, if you're not currently married) ever given you one of those "we never go to see anything that I want to see" guilt trips lines? Well, seeing Rascal Flatts was the result of something just like that. My wife loves these guys' stuff and so I took her to see them. They followed the rodeo at the State Fair (hey, just like Air Supply). At the risk of losing any "street cred" I may have (which is "none), I have to say that they actually weren't that bad. Despite their syrupy country harmonic stuff, they're a pretty capable rock band, something they proved during the encore phase of the show by playing some great classic rock.

19. The Nachomen - Opened for the fake-ass fuckin' Coasters at the Arvada Center (see 2nd entry, above). They're a more-than-capable oldies cover band and, even though I should, I'm not going to hold their transgression of cavorting with impostors against them. They still perform in and around the Denver metro area and, from what I remember, they do the most fun and creative cover of "Palisade's Park" I've ever been a part of.

20. The Persuasions - An old 1950s doo-wop combo from somewhere back east who, despite their utter lack of commerical success, have been together since the aforementioned '50s. As part of their finale, I and other more bold audience members accepted their invitation to come on stage and sing "in the Still of the Night" with them . Even though I got stuck singing bass (I'm certainly more of a tenor), it was likely the best experience I've ever had at any concert, bar none.

21. the Mike Jones Combo - Which happens to be Mike Jones on the Piano and Penn Jillette on upright Bass. Mike Jones is a tremendously talented Jazz pianist and Penn Jillette...Well, he and Teller do a magic show at the Rio in Las Vegas. In fact, that's where you SEE the Mike Jones Combo - before the Penn and Teller show in Las Vegas.

22. the Insane Clown Posse - Quit laughing. It was a phase, it's passed. Yes, I painted my face. Collin did too. At the actual show, I had to be his "barrier" between safety and the mosh pit...

23. Blaze Ya Dead Homie - Opened for ICP, sucked mostly all the way.

24. White Zombie - Had actually bought the tickets for my sister as her birthday present in like...1994, but she had to work or something and couldn't go so I took my friend Ryan. It was an ok show but as a band, they were on their downward slide towards Rob Zombie as a solo artist. If I remember right, we left before the show was over.

and finally
25. Sam the Sham - Saw the old guy at a KDZA Oldies 108 concert in Pueblo in 1998 or '99. I was able to not only get great seats, but passes to the after party. I still have the picture he autographed for me sitting right behind me on a little rolling file thing...

So there you go...25 whole bands/performers that I've seen. Man, that was hard...I feel so lame...Anyhow, thanks for stopping by...You kids have a great Tuesday now.

Labels: lame stories, me roots

Wow. I'm lame. It's been a few days since I thought to post anything on this sad little blogsitething. You know, it's not for lack of inspiration (or even "stuff") in this case, it's just been a lack of "time," really. I had pictures all ready that I was hoping to share on Friday and...Yeah, never got around to posting them for your collective visual enjoyment. I also have a video that depicts what happens when my parents come over to play Wii Sports (my mom has trouble figuring out the VCR, so imagine how she dealt with the Wiimote). Indeed, there were moments of hilarity and yes, I should have put that up for you kids to chuckle at, but I haven't. Yet. Again, it's a time thing. Maybe Thursday or Friday, howsabout that?

Anyhow, now that I've gotten that out of the way, I'd better get back to the workin'...Oh, wait...I do have one more thing...Yesterday, as you are all likely aware, was MLK day and, since I already had it written, I touched up my (old) entry about my having read the "I Have A Dream" speech when I was in elementary school and sent it into the Penn Jillette Show. I didn't expect much but damned if Penn didn't read the whole stinkin' thing (and it really was a long email) on the air. The podcast of yesterday's episode should be available soon so, if you've ever read my blog entries and thought "that's nice, but it'd be better if a big hulking juggler were reading this for me" (you know you have, don't lie), well...Then you're about to get your wish. I'll at least link the episode as soon as it becomes available. Until then, you crazy kids have a great Tuesday...

***Update - The episode is now available for download if you click here. It's the January 15, 2007 episode and my letter/story is read in the last break (with about 12 minutes to go).

Labels: audio, famous folk, lame stories, me roots, pointless shit, stagnation, tales of triumph

And so, while the sleeping giant that is the phrickin' photoblog continues to lie dormant, I shall thrill you kids with quite possibly the lamest of the Friday posts...That's right, I'm going to acknowledge a "tag" from another blogsitething...See, Mark Maynard (whom I've never really read) "tagged" our old buddy Collin (even though he linked him incorrectly when he did it) on this and, ever the dilligent little monkey, Collin tagged me. As you well know, I usually dismiss such "tags" with a disdainful wave of my (mighty) hand but...Well...Since I have nothing else for you today...Let's get this over with...
*ahem*
Derek Knight Presents: Five Things You Likely Do Not Know About Me

1. I love the smell of gasoline.
Now, don't start shouting to your significant other (or your 17 cats) "hey, that cheese boy is a gas huffer!" I am decidedly NOT a gas huffer, I simply find the smell of gasoline to be enjoyable if not (dare I say) comforting. It's hard to explain, really, I guess that my earliest recollection of enjoying the smell of gasoline was when I was maybe 3 or 4, sitting in the backseat of the family's 1969 Dodge Coronet while my mom filled up (likely at the Skelly station on Main street which is now...What is it, a Walgreens?). I think I even mentioned that I liked the smell that was emanating from the pump to my mom who, with a horrified look on her face, instructed me never to smell gas again...That clinched it, of course...The sultry smell of 85 octane was the forbidden fruit of my youth...

2. I worked at a strip joint.
But I was young and I needed the money. Seriously, when I was 19 (maybe 20) and working at a local radio station, one of the other DJs (a real dickhead named Randy) told me that he was picking up extra money DJing at a place called Jerry McNasty's. He then told me that they were short staffed and that I should go talk to "Chucker," who hired all the DJs there...Even though I was underage (I stopped getting carded when I was 17), I agreed to go talk to this "Chucker" and see about playing music while chicks that I likely went to high school with shook their c-section scars for immigrant construction workers on lunch break...Chucker turned out to be a shaky paraplegic radio-jock-turned-strip-club-DJ with a bad attitude. Despite all that, he hired me on the spot and, for one day (I just couldn't handle the crust of despair that was all over McNasty's) I was a strip club DJ. "Get your hands out of your pockets and your tip dollars ready, Gentlemen! Here comes long-legged, lovely ROCHELLE! No, really...Get them out of your pockets..."

3. I'm actually an only child.
My sister was adopted. Oh, sure, she'll refute this up and down (as will my parents) but don't listen to them. Sister. Adopted. All the way.

4. I have one of the worst speech impediments I've ever heard.
I'm not kidding about this. When I was 5 and first in school, I (like all the other students) was put through a battery of tests...Being the sharp little bastard that I am, I aced all of them with the exception of the speech test. My mom was told by the individual administering said speech test that I had a "click" in my speech and that I needed speech therapy which, of course, I took part in for at least 4 years during school. I never did get over this "click" that the school identified, mostly because I couldn't actually hear it and nobody would TELL me where my specific problem area was. After all this, I largely forgot about my speech problems until I was 18. While recording some off-the-cuff parody songs with a friend of mine, I heard on the playback (for the first time, mind you) that damn "click" that the school personnel had identified so many years earlier. When I heard it, I was devastated...I suddenly realized that I sounded idiotic, I couldn't say "ch" or "sh" sounds without mashing those sounds up into a spitty mess...For the first time in my life, it was terribly clear why the Speech lady at my elementary school had told my mom that I'd never EVER be able to participate in any form of public speaking...As you can imagine, I was horribly self conscious from that point on about my speech and, even after getting a job at a local radio station, I couldn't seem to shake my impediment...I tried to simply avoid saying things like "chubby checker" or "chuck berry" but it was no use. I tried every possible remedy I could think of to no avail until one day I realized that, if I substituted a "ts" sound for the "ch" sound and said it quickly, I suddenly sounded less idiotic if not damn near normal...In a single moment of clarity, I had identified the specific part of my mouth that caused my stupidly specific speech problem! I admit, It took a good long while to retrain myself, but now I speak with both clarity and confidence. Since "fixing" my speech impediment, I've not only worked on-air on (at least) 5 radio stations here in town but I voice commercials for radio and television which run in just about every media market in the country and I've been a public address announcer for a professional hockey team...Never going to be able to speak in public, my ass...

5. I tried, but failed, to get on Jeopardy®
A few years ago, I visited the Jeopardy website and saw that, at some point, they were going to hold contestant tryouts in Denver. Ever the eager nutcase, I registered for the chance to try out and then promptly forgot about it. A few months later, though, I got a call from the Jeopardy people telling me that I was randomly selected to participate in the big contestant search. Believe me, when I heard that, I was elated! I agreed to be at the Downtown Westin at whatever given time on whatever given day to be part of their testing. The deal is, you (and a hundred of your closest friends) first take a written test (of sorts). Those that pass said written test then go on to play a mock game of Jeopardy and THEN, those who succeed at that portion are placed into a "contestant pool" for whatever season is upcoming. I felt that it was a foregone conclusion that I'd succeed in all phases of the testing and, leading up to test day, I would play Jeopardy at home, tracking my correct answers and, essentially, continuing to feel confident. The day of the testing came and, even though I was absolutely sure that there were no possible scenarios wherein I could fail, after the written test when the chubby producer fellow called the names of those who would move on to phase two, mine was not among them. I have to say, even though I stayed calm and didn't show it, I hadn't felt so devastated since...Well, I don't even know when. I learned a valuable lesson from that day, though...Well, I learned a couple of things...First: don't get your hopes up. Second: READ CHARLES GODDAMN DICKENS! You never know when someone is going to ask you a STUPID Dickens question...SHIT! DAMMIT! AAAAAAAAAA. Er...Ah...Yeah. So that's it.

And yes, that really is it, 5 things that you didn't know about me. Likely, 5 things that you didn't care to know about me either but hey, it's Collin's fault for tagging me, right? I plan to NOT tag anyone for this little assignment, mostly because I love to watch things like this die. DIE A SLOW DEATH, 5 THINGS POST! So yeah, thanks for stopping by today...You kids have a great weekend now...

Labels: collin crap, Done Got Tagged, indignities, lame stories, me roots, pointless shit, radio stories, stuff mom's done, tales of triumph

The following story that I'm about to tell may (or may not) be true. In fact, I CAN say that some of it is completely true. It will be up to you, dear reader, to decide for yourselves what, if any of it, is false.

Growing up where I did (just outside of Colorado Springs, Colorado), I didn't have much opportunity for interaction with monkeys of any kind. In fact, not counting the few times which I was forced to go to the stinkin' zoo as part of a school field trip, I can't say that monkeys were at all a meaningful part of my life WITH THE DISTINCT EXCEPTION of one fateful summer afternoon in late June, 1986. Before we get to the meat of such things, I should provide you with some background...There was a family that lived not TOO far from where we lived which had two pets: a large dog and a medium-sized monkey. This particular family lived in a house on a corner lot which didn't have a particularly tall fence which meant that, if their monkey was outside (which it often was), it didn't take much effort at all to see the thing. I can't say that I know what breed either animal was, but I can say that the dog was not terribly well behaved. We'd often see the stupid thing wandering around the neighborhood and, when we did, my dad would call out to it, yelling "say dog, where you live?" Dad would then answer himself, in his "other dog" voice, replying "where 'de monkey live." In stark contrast, though, to the dog's rebellious nature, this family's monkey was particularly well-behaved and stuck to his jungle gym apparatus which had been constructed in their backyard. This summer afternoon which I mentioned earlier found me riding my bike down to the nearest fireworks stand with the intent of picking up some crazy jacks, smoke bombs and whatever else I could afford to buy for a little pre-4th of July incendiary frivolity. The route to said stand from where I lived took me by the house "where 'de monkey live" and, when I rounded the corner up by the high school that day, I could make out that, down the road, there was a group of 4 kids, older than I was at the time, taunting the monkey. As it turned out, these kids were lighting firecrackers (which are illegal 'round these parts), tossing them toward the monkey and then taking great delight as the firecrackers exploded which, of course, was causing the monkey all sorts of consternation and grief. Upon witnessing all of this, I, being the upstanding little fat kid that I was at the time, WANTED to help the monkey but, knowing that if I intervened I'd just receive a solid beating for my trouble, simply crossed the street (like a coward) and continued on my merry way. As I got closer to the scene, just about to pass the group, I saw one of the evil heathens produce a tube of some sort from his backpack and load a bottle rocket (also illegal) into it. Predictably, this bottle rocket was then aimed and fired at the monkey and THAT'S right about when all Hell broke loose...

I guess that the monkey was used to being shouted at from all those years living on the corner there. I guess also that this monkey could handle a few taunts and a couple of small explosions here and there. After all, as I mentioned before, this WAS a particularly well-behaved monkey. A bottle rocket, though, with it's unpredictable flight pattern and it's spewing flame and it's exploding in the air, turned out to the breaking point for this particular monkey on this particular day...Without warning, the monkey leapt from it's perch in that backyard and onto the kid who had shot the rocket, screeching and flailing, tearing at his hair and his clothes, smacking him, scratching him and, in general, just beating the living shit out of him. The others, being the loyal sorts that they were, ran like hell toward a nearby park once the carnage esued, not so much looking for help for their fallen companion but simply to save themselves from this suddenly crazed monkey's wrath. As I watched, awestruck, from across the street, that monkey slapped and scratched and yanked and tore at nearly every square inch of that kid, making me realize that my crossing the street had been the correct decision after all. After about a minute of that monkey unloading his can of whoopass on his deserving victim, he ceased the beating and hopped back into his backyard, happily chattering away from his usual perch. A couple of people had come out of their houses to join me in watching the monkey assault and, now that it was over, they had gone inside presumably to call 911. I, on the other hand, took the opportunity to cross the street and get a closer look at this monkey's handiwork and I have to say: I've never seen such physical devastation before or since. The kid was pretty well tore up and bleeding quite a bit from various places on his body. He was conscious, however, despite his injuries and I could just make out his faint pleas for assistance once he realized that I was standing next to him. I knew, certainly, that I had to do SOMETHING and so, after taking a quick look around to make sure that nobody was watching me, I quickly relieved that fallen juvenile delinquent of his backpack full of (illegal) fireworks. I then hopped on my bike and rode off (into the sunset), looking back only to give that brave little monkey a big thumbs up to which he replied with a happy monkey wave...

That turned out to be the best 4th of July EVER...

Labels: holidays, indignities, lame stories, me roots, tales of triumph

Lo and behold, what with yesterday being "Thursday," we find ourselves finally at Friday. This, of course, means that I'm about to hit you all with (yet another) Phrickin' Photoblog to cure that "lookin' at pictures" jones that I know all of you gots real bad. This week's photoblog is another of the narcissistic variety, being all about "me" when I was a real small kid. Now I know that you fine folks are terribly anxious to get to the pictures so I shall make you wait no longer...BRING ON THE VISUALS!
click on the little bastards to see them bigger


So here I am at a mere one month old, nary a tooth in my melon head but surely what appears to be a mighty load in my tiny pants. Man, I'll bet I was a smelly little baby...I can't decide whether I was "fussy" in this picture or just "Stretching" after a satisfying nap...Either way, there I am...


Oh Hell yeah, look at that bitchin' Evel Knievel themed trike! I TOTALLY could jump over like...17 matchbox cars with that thing...Except for how I didn't have 17 matchbox cars...Still, I coulda' done it...


It's my 5th birthday! WOO HOO! See? I got a cake with a rabbit on top and I got FISH! Yeah, goldfish for my birthday! As a sidenote, that was the birthday that my mom learned the hard way that I did, in fact, know how to spell. Indeed, she tried to be sly and tell my sister that I was getting "F-I-S-H" for my birthday and I immediately piped up "I'm getting a FISH!?" Seriously, try a harder word next time...Like "M-A-S-E-R-A-T-I."


There's me on the diving board. Obviously, since I ain't dressed for swimmin', I wasn't planning on diving into the pool the day this shot was taken. Seriously, though, I wouldn't have jumped off the board anyway, I was afraid of the diving board until I was like...13...Screw off, diving board...


Me: "Hey, mom...What's that?"
Mom: "Why it's a little Mexican baby, Derek."
Me: "Why do we have a little Mexican baby, mom?"
Mom: "We sell them to the highest bidder! How do you think we can afford such a lovely couch and I can wear the latest in psychedelic fashions?"
Me: "And me these stylish overalls...I get it now...But where do Mexican babies come from in the first place?"
Mom: "Ha ha ha, aren't you silly...You know as well as I do, Mexican babies come from Pueblo..."

And so, there you go...Yet another Phrickin' Photoblog is in the books. Thanks for stopping by, kids, and have yourselves a fine weekend...

Labels: me roots, Phrickin' Photoblogs

Indeed, I didn't get around to fixin' up an entry specifically tailored for your auditory pleasure this week. As such, I will endeavor to fill space on the ol' blog today by recounting a story that can be at least loosely tied to the subject of "audio." You are ready for the storytelling. Yes you are...YES YOU ARE!..

Let's get started...

The setting for this story is the old radio station cluster building on south Circle drive here in town which I worked at "way back when." The year, I'm guessing, was 1994, maybe 1995. I was working an "overnight" shift (midnight to 6:00am) at the oldies station and a kid named Eric was down the way, working a similar shift, at an adult contemporary station...At least 3 of the 4 stations in our part of the building were staffed round the clock (this, of course, was right before computers and voice-tracking turned the business of radio into a faceless, barren enterprise outside of "normal business hours") which meant that you were never really "alone," even late at night or on the weekends. That was actually a good thing, since the larger building (formally called the "Executive Tower" could be a pretty creepy place if you were all alone...

Now, it wasn't creepy in the "old mansion on the hill" way, nor was it creepy in a "this building has seen a lot of years" kind of way. It was creepy in a hard to explain "malevolent poltergeisty" kind of way. Indeed, among other things, the elevators in the building seemed to have minds of their own and would often take you to floors other than the ones which you pressed. Additionally, there were lights which would turn themselves on and off inexplicably in various locations and even odd noises, voices and bangings which emanated from the bathrooms on the ground floor. There were also bathrooms on the 4th floor which made me terribly uneasy, filling me with a sense that someone had committed suicide, specifically via hanging, inside them every time I went to use them.

But that's neither here nor there, really...

Back to the night which I've already described for you, after midnight some years back, me in my station and Eric in his. I can't say that I remember anything REALLY out of the ordinary leading up to the "incident," but given the building's propensity for what I deem "supernatural occurances," I was always on my guard. As I mentioned prior, this was radio before the despotesque control of the computer, so everything was segued manually. At some point during my shift, while I was facing the CD rack, I heard an odd clicking coming from behind me. I then heard Eric shouting frantically from his studio and, as I turned around, I witnessed the reel-to-reel deck which we had in the studio turning itself on and off and the reels spinning in such a violent manner that tape was spewing out in all directions. I jumped at the unit, punching the stop button, the power button and then every other button in a vain attempt to stop the sudden and inexplicable surge to life which the machine was exhibiting. All the while, I could still hear Eric shouting about...well, something...I was too busy to find out what, exactly. Finally, after unplugging the unit, the reel-to-reel slowly spun to a halt and I was able to emerge from my studio, confused and a little scared, only to find out what had flustered Eric across the way in his studio...

Also confused and on the side of scared, Eric told me that HIS reel-to-reel was "freaking out and spitting tape everywhere" at the exact same time that mine was...

Rest assured, neither of us ventured off to use the (haunted) bathrooms that night...

Labels: lame stories, me roots, radio stories, spooky shit

Some years back, when I was still in elementary school, I attended my aunt and uncle's wedding which, since It was a Catholic wedding, proved to be a unique experience for me at that point in my life what with all of the "getting up" and the "kneeling down" and the "hey, how are ya's" and the "things" and the "stuff" that were part of the ceremony. Faced with such a challenge at that young age, I figured that my best bet, since I really didn't want to make Baby Jesus cry by genuflecting improperly or something, was to pick out (in my estimation) the oldest person in the church and simply mimic that person's actions, allowing oldie the oldster's OBVIOUS experience to carry me through the service. This (shrewd) strategy worked well for quite a while and, at one point, my target senior citizen left her seat and got in line for what appeared to be a "light snack" that was being passed out at the front. I figured that, given all of the religious calisthenics which I had just been put through, I had certainly earned an hors d'oeuvre or two. As such, I got myself in line and, ultimately, was handed a little wafery thing and a tiny little cup of juice...

Not a feast, but just enough to keep me goin'...

As I returned to my seat, careful to keep an eye on the wise old one who would unknowingly help me through the day's activities, I suddenly realized that I had been the only member of my immediate family to proceed to the front and acquire said "snack." This fact struck me as slightly odd, but hey: you snooze, you lose...I quickly forgot about that, however, because in no time we were all involved in another round of "Sweatin' to the Arias." Eventually, after what proved to be a pretty good workout, my aunt and uncle were "officially married" in the eyes of "the church" and gym class was over...

Finally...Man, was I beat...

Given all of the aforementioned "exercise" which I had been subjected to, I'll admit, I was pretty thirsty...As such, at the reception following the wedding, I remember putting away 28 (or so) cans of Sunkist® orange soda (and making a number of trips to the bathroom). Later, I don't quite remember how, while I was talking with my aunt and uncle, the topic of having had that "light snack" at the wedding came up. When I revealed that I had, in fact, had said "snack," my aunt was shocked.

"You took communion?" she said. "But you're not Catholic!"

"Do you have to be Catholic to have it?" I replied?

She thought for a couple of seconds and then said "well...You took it. You're Catholic now."

"I am!?" I asked, shocked. "For how long?"

"I don't know." She replied. "four years, I think...At least 4 years."

Given my young age, I was mostly mortified. How was I ever going to last four whole years in such an exercise-intensive religion? I had no idea that that little chip-thing and the dollhouse-cup full of grape juice had enough magical power inside just that little bit that I had to turn me into something completely different for FOUR WHOLE YEARS!

Right about then, I really started to feel guilty...

Ok, that last sentence was just a little joke. A Catholic joke! ha ha...Anyway...

It's been more than 20 years since that first unofficial foray into Catholicism for me. Since then, I've accepted communion at several different churches covering at least three different denominations (including nearly choking to death on some of Christ's body and blood at a Methodist church in Florida - try getting around THAT without hundreds of devout southerners collectively thinking that you're the Devil). My buddy Andy even allowed me to perform a reading at HIS Catholic wedding. While I'm no longer an official Catholic, I do feel a slight connection to the religion given my past experience. While I'm not going to confess my sins today, or enjoy special pancakes, or observe Lent or anything I support you Catholics out there who WILL be...As such, to all my real-live Catholics out there, Happy Shrove Tuesday!

NOW, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, GO ENJOY YOUR FREE PANCAKES!

Labels: I eat food, indignities, lame stories, me roots, religion

This week has gone by faster than...Well, a very fast thing. Suddenly, I find Friday staring me in the face and begging for yet another Phrickin' Photoblog. Today, seeing as I failed to bring with me the items that I had planned to post, we'll be sharing with you pictures of touristy destinations all across this great land. Are you all packed and ready to go? Good. Let's get this thing fired up and on the road...
When you click them, they swell up (but not with pride)


Ah, yes. Here's a picture of a place that you can no longer visit. This is the Cinema 70 here in town back before it was sold off and turned into a motorcycle showroom. My father was the manager of this theatre for a number of years when I was growing up which meant that my sister and I were afforded the opportunity to see many a free movie (while gorging on many free snacks). Ah, the memories...


Here's a picture that came from a trip to Alaska which my parents took some years back. I'm not sure whether every ratty-ass convenience store/lodge in Alaska has a totem pole out front, but this one sure does. So yeah...There's that...


Here's a picture I took when I was in elementary school during a field trip to the Royal Gorge Bridge (world's highest suspension bridge). I haven't been back since but I do remember feeling very uneasy while crossing the bridge. That damn thing is pretty frickin' high...


Here's a picture taken way back in...1980...Yeah, 1980 during our trip to California. Here we see the bow of the Queen Mary and the city of Long Beach in the distance. That was a pretty fun day...


All the way back to Alaska, now, with a picture of the Palmer water tower and some very majestic mountains in the distance. Yep...


Well this here is where all good Catholics go when they root on their football team. I don't rightly know who took this picture outside of Notre Dame Stadium but the back of the picture pretty much says it all for me. Indeed, written in astonished long hand on the reverse is the sentence "we actually went to Notre Dame," as if it's some forbidden land or something...It would've been cooler if our mystery photog could've gotten us some candids of Touchdown Jesus. Maybe next time...


Finally, we end our touristy tour of photographic goodness at the spot where all good Air Force officers worship the Lord, the Air Force Academy Chapel (conveniently located on the Grounds of the USAFA at the extreme north end of Colorado Springs). The place is not only cool from the outside, it's pretty darn neat on the inside as well. Heck, I might even go so far as to call it an "architectural marvel." Ooh, pretty,,,

So that's that, kids...You all have a fine weekend and we'll see you on Monday...Or whenever...

Labels: get outta town, me roots, Phrickin' Photoblogs

Hey, look...It's Friday...Hooray...My back hurts something awful today (or perhaps it's my kidney) and I jammed my not-so-good knee last night so I'm in a bit of a "bad mood." As such, the usual fanfare and/or big introduction that usually accompanies the (vaunted) Phrickin' Photoblog Phriday shall be skipped and replaced with a significantly more "efficient" introduction:

Here come the friggin' pictures...They're all of me...Enjoy.
clicky=bigger


Here I am at a very young age looking up at my dad in near total disbelief. I think what I like most about this picture is the fact that my dad has obviously had enough of my incredulous stare...What's that TV Guide doing on the floor? Couldn't we afford an endtable?..


Here I am being held by my Grandpa Widegren. Look at all of that hair he has! He STILL has all of his hair! WHY COULDN'T I HAVE RECEIVED THAT KIND OF HAIR GENE!? Life is cruel...


Not to be outdone, here I am hangin' out with my late Grandpa Knight. Yes, as should be obvious, I ended up with a hair gene not unlike his. Damn shame I couldn't end up with his kind of metabolism...


It seems that, when my parents tired of my shenanigans, they simply stuck me in a closet with a bunch of junk and called it good...Apparently, I liked hangin' out with the junk...It was a win-win situation...


Nice hair, goofball...


Last, but surely not least, here I am on my wedding day some 5+ years ago, ready to meet with destiny (also my wife) and get that whole "marryin' thing" over with. Among the groomsmen, you might recognize a beardless Collin in the back with his tie all crooked. Likely, this may be the only time I'll see him in a tuxedo...Boy, those were sharp outfits...

So that's that...When you get a chance, send me some of those "pain relieving back patches" and a couple bottles of Advil...Oh, yeah..."have a fine weekend."

Labels: me roots, Phrickin' Photoblogs

Ahh, for the simplicity of "the good old days" back when gas was cheap, the air smelled good and people could actually be classified and/or certified as an "idiot." Granted, I can't actually REMEMBER these "old days," but I have heard tell of old-timey scales of intelligence that actually featured measurable and assignable "levels o' smartness" which included "moron," "idiot" and "imbecile." So see? If your great-grandfather perhaps uttered the phrase "you can't marry that boy: he's an idiot" to your grandmother, he may have actually had paperwork to support his assertion...

Anyhow...

One of the reasons that I bring this up is that my sister, for the past few years, has been absolutely silly with the genealogy stuff. A couple of weeks ago, when we went to see the Avalanche play the Stars, she brought up that she had found some early-part-of-the-century census forms and, even though the idiot wasn't in OUR family tree (God forbid) there were actual "idiots" listed in that particular county's census. While this fact gave her motivation to try and ferret out the idiots in OUR family tree, it gave me an idea for an audio entry which, because it IS "big audio Wednesday," I will share with you all...now:

So there's that...You all have a fine and productive Wednesday which should be easy as long as all of those "imbeciles" you work with could leave you alone and let you get some "stuff" done for once...Heh...

Labels: all those funny voices, audio, me roots, spoof commercials

So, I know that I said (in my post from yesterday) that I was above all of that "best of my blog in 2005" shit (mostly because my posts continued their grand tradition of "sucking" all of last year) but then I got to thinkin'...When have I ever let mediocrity (or even abject failure) stop me from putting up a massively long-winded post, chock full of "the nothin'?" THE ANSWER IS "NEVER," KIDS! As such, you are about to bear witness to the spectacle what will surely come to be known as "Wednesday's lame post," but that will be spoken about in hushed tones in certain circles as "the year-in-review post thing that sucked worse than the entirety of last year's post things and that has made me HATE that Cheese boy, HATE HIM!"

With that in mind, why should we dawdle and delay impending hatred any longer? We begin NOW:

Starting off in the logical locale (which would be "January") we find that, since I have a disturbing habit of saying the word "yes" a little too often, I experienced the horror that is Indoor Softball in the early days of 2005. Since we're talking "suck" here today, let me tell you (again for the first time): Playing indoor softball may as well be the earthly manifestation of "suck" in all of it's miserable, unGodly manifestationness...In fact, it was so draining, it seemed to have prevented me from posting ANYTHING worth even a small damn for the rest of January...

Luckily, though, in early February, I shook that shit off like so many pond leeches and whipped out a post about a Completely Gay Skeleton who lives alone, somewhere in the desert. I know that it sounds a little on the side of "not so good," but I really did receive some good feedback regarding that post...Of course, when I say "good feedback," I mean that not less than 3 whole people told me that it was "stupid" and like...2 awesome motherfuckers FUCKING LOVED IT (the more curse words you use, the cooler the sentence is, I'm told)...And speaking of "early February" (we were), that period of time was also the setting for my second Dark Minion Club (fake) ad which, if one were inclined to spend their hard-earned money on frivolous crap, is available on a mousepad from my CafePress shop...Staying with February, since it proved to be a mildly productive month here at Action Cheese Studios despite it's stigma as the shortest month of the year (it probably gets all of that spam email about elongating it's self), we find that I was able to churn out a (now rare) audio entry for the (purely fictional) pooper scooter 2000, a mobility AND incontinence solution for the elderly...Not long after, I celebrated my first "blogiversary" and then got SILLY wif' 'de theme songs (for a short while), mixing one up for not only MY blog, but my sister's blog, Collin's blog and the blog of HappyFunBall as well...Strangely, my motivation to keep slapping those theme song things together like so many low-income track houses exited me as quickly as it came around, leaving nothing but scorched corneas and a half-eaten sammich in it's brutal wake...

Red, itchy eyes and moldy egg salad aside, it was March's turn to grasp the proverbial wheel and, mostly because filling space is one of my main priorities, I started doing that Phrickin' Photoblog Phriday all regular-like...Additionally, I allowed myself to be interviewed, so to speak, by some of you good people who happened to be paying attention long enough to leave me questions in the comments box...On a sad note, as it most likely shall be for many years, around the end of March I I still missed my departed friend...I did, however, close out March on an "up note" with a nice, non-offensive little audio entry titled Big Ass Hotdog which, I'm told, has become a big hit with a small segment of the brave men and women which are serving in Iraq...

Come April, a severe lack of inspiration led to re-doing pulp covers becoming the order of the day (easy to do AND they "filled space"). Additionally, I found some time (like 3 or 4 minutes, tops) to make fun of the whole Wendy's trailer-park-scamstress-finding-a-finger-in-her-chili debacle with a fake ad for KFC featuring the recently animated Colonel doing one of those hip, young-peoples' dance routines...

Once May arrived we find that, while I still lacked inspiration to create really readable content, the whole "makin' fun of folk Jones" which I had the month prior had yet to fade. As such, I took a stab at making fun of the Mastercard "Priceless" ads and that Runaway Bride chick at the same time. Not long after, I gave you all some details behind my getting kicked out of (yet another) hockey league...JGIAP...

June was a slow month for content (Even slower than April and May, as if that were even possible...Must've been the warm weather) but I did manage to sneak in a story about how I found out what my uncle wants done with his earthly remains after he "shuffles off this mortal coil," so to speak...A disturbing scenario, to say the least...

Perhaps continuing that whole "warm weather distraction" theme, or maybe because I just plain suck at this, the only thing which July would yield along the lines of "blog content" was a (heartwarming) story which chronicled how I was able to utilize the motivation that is "revenge" to win my first (and only) game while playiing in the "advanced" hockey league at the Chapel Hills Mall...

Some fools say that "Spring" is the time for "renewal," but I disagree: "renewal," thy name must be "August!" You see, I was as productive as I've ever been regarding content for this stupid blogsitething in the 8th month of 2005...Some highlights of said contentual endeavors include the (gripping) tale of how Hot Dog Man made it all the way to Santa Fe, my tips for what to do in a crisis (a parody of a brochure originally produced by the Red Cross), some quick makin' fun of Russians (not once, but (at least) twice) through the (magic) of crappily re-doing old crappy posters and, of course, who can forget the (beloved) tale of the time that I was able to track down (and purchase) the elusive "Jalabañero pepper"...

Come September, it seems that I was merely content to "rest upon my laurels" (or my "fat ass," whichever comes first) because highlights of super posty action (now with less action!) were hard to come by. I did, however, celebrate National Talk-Like-a-Pirate Day (because everyone should) and, as if that weren't enough (because it's not), I went to Pueblo and blew out my stupid left knee, something which I remember as "not unlike the explosion of a bloated whale carcass," except without all of those pesky eskimos hanging around, waiting to harvest my sweet, sweet blubber...

I seemed to "pick up the (content) pace," so to speak, for the month of October (conceivably since I was a mostly immobile slug following that "knee-go-boom" thing)...Some of the highlights of said "content explosion" includes me filling you good people in on why I had to change dentists, how I was totally better than all of you (for at least a day) when Pat Angello decreed me a BIG WINNER, how I preyed upon the young and the clueless late one (fateful) evening with some more of that (ever enjoyable) chat prankin' (hey, that GIR chick digs the chat pranks: I aim to please) and how, for whatever reason, I had the misfortune to come across a perverted and naked ken doll where I work, documenting said (gruesome) event via the magic of "flash photography"...

Continuing with the "ebb and flow" theory of blog-tides, November wasn't terribly eventful if you're talkin' "posts n' stuff." On the bright side, though, I WAS like...TOTALLY FAMOUS for a WHOLE DAY thanks to AOL linking up to a post which I had written about Terrell Owens and the Eagles and stuff...Of course, I also went to Las Vegas and ate myself silly in the latter part of November, mostly because that's what all the cool kids were doin' at the time...

Finally, closing out such an eventful year full of "the suck," in December I decided to begin participating in Illustration Friday all regular-like and, despite concern for my own well being, I succumbed to temptation and played me some of that "hockey" for the first time since that whole "exploding left knee" incident...Thankfully, it went surprisingly well...

So that's it, kids...2005 is not only OFFICIALLY in the books, but the memories took up INSANE amounts of space today! Still, it's all "over" and stuff, so not only do I have to start writing "2006" on all of my checks, I also get to feel just that much older (like...a year) and also marvel at "how long ago" things seem to have happened (again, adding a year to the total). Regardless of all of that, I really do mean this next letter-string sincerely: no matter WHY you stop by this weird little blogsitething of mine, I appreciate you stopping by...Now get out there and have a great 2006!

Labels: audio, get outta town, indignities, lame stories, me roots, sports, tales of triumph

And so, despite the other days' insistence upon striking Friday from our vocabulary, FRIDAY SIMPLY SHALL NOT BE HELD DOWN! Nay, like those plucky weebles, it just keeps comin' back for more...In honor of Friday's legendary toughness (and determination, no less), I shall (once again) bring to you the glory and pageantry that is the Phrickin' Photoblog Phriday...Today's theme?..Um...Is..."Stuff...That I've Seen (or maybe not, in certain cases)"...I know that, by now, you must be on the edge of your seat, foaming at the mouth in sheer anticipation...As such, I won't keep you waiting any longer...HERE COME THOSE PICTURES! You click, they'll get all big for ya


Holy CRAP! That's the QUEEN MARY!..You see, way back when I was a little kid, I was totally geeky about ships. I was quite obsessed with the Titanic and the Lusitania and stuff. Of course, since those ships rest at the bottom of the ocean, the next best thing for me, way back in 1980, was to see the Queen Mary. This was as part of a family vacation to California when I was in 1st grade...We saw Disneyland, Knott's Berry Farm and, obviously, the Queen Mary...It's haunted, you know...


This is the Royal Gorge Bridge, located outside of Cañon City, Colorado. It's greatest claim to fame is that it is, in fact, the world's highest suspension bridge. This picture was taken from the tram that also spans the gorge by me in 1985.


You see, way back in 1987 (I can't remember which month), we had ourselves quite the snowstorm. As you can see, there was over a foot of the vile stuff on the ground, weighing down roofs and trees and making shoveling quite the chore...Not that I'd know, I doubt I shoveled any of it...Anyway, LOOK AT ALL THE SNOW!..


Here's one of those "I haven't yet been" places...This is a shot of Mt. Mckinley in Alaska, taken by my mom (believe it or not) from the AIRPLANE as they were flying over...That's America's tallest mountain, right there, kids...As I was saying, this here is an aerial shot of Mt. Rainier in Washington. I think what my mom did was to find a mural that had this shot, and then she took a shot of that to make it look like SHE took the photo from the air...Crafty!


Yes, that is THE Stanley Cup...Yes, I got to see it...No, I did not touch it (my dad did, though)...This was during one of the Cup's travel stops during the 2001 Stanley Cup Finals and, yes...The Avalanche DID claim the cup that season on the strength of a 7-game victory over those New Jersey Devils...


This was the front end of our 1979 Pontiac Grand Prix after some lady ran a stop sign and hit my dad when he was on his way home from work. Of course, it eventually got fixed, but some things just need to be preserved for posterity...This was before such modern advances as "safety" and "crumple zones." Dad was fine, though...Just fine...


We finish up today with a shot of when I traveled back in time so I could save Abraham Lincoln from assassination...As you can see, I got my time zones screwed up and only showed up in enough time to snap a picture of him, staring at the ceiling, fixin' to die...Ok, I'm lying...This was the "Abraham Lincoln Fixin-To-Die Exhibit" at the now extinct "Hall of Presidents," which was a wax museum over on 21st street...Wax museums are creepy...

So there's that, kids...As always, thanks for stopping by and enjoy your weekend. I know I will: it's the first weekend in God-knows-how-long that I DON'T HAVE TO WORK!..Good bye, radio station!...Hello "doing nothing!" Heh...

Labels: get outta town, hockey stuff, me roots, Phrickin' Photoblogs, sports, tales of triumph

Now, just because I'm posting the photoblog for Phriday DOES NOT MEAN that you all can shirk your duties, so to speak, and conveniently "forget" to toss in your two cents re: the big-time write the dialogue for the comic strip contest. Seriously, if you have yet to participate, you are implored to go and do just that. Until you do, you really shouldn't be allowed to view the pictures from today. Hey, rules is rules...

And so, much like the swallows returning to Capistrano (or that shabby homeless guy returning to the liquor store to pick up more Night Train), Friday has come to grace us with it's (glorious) presence once again. Of course, I am aware that you have come to my (humble) blogsitething today in search of "displayed photos" and I DO NOT INTEND TO DISAPPOINT! I still may, but believe me...I didn't intend to...

With that said, today's photographic theme is "myself (and my sister) in everyday situations." I shall waste no more time with the "jibber-jabber!" ON WITH THE SHOW!..


Starting off today's display, we see that NOT ONLY did that whole "blank stare" thing that I'm known for start at a very early age, but you can see that the demonic redeye thing with my sister was manifesting itself years and years ago as well. No, kids, those ain't gummi bears on the kitchen table: THOSE ARE LITE-BRITES! Man, I miss the Lite-Brite...Good times...


Ah, yes...The backward friggin' pants thing again...It seems that my sister and the sun were mortal enemies back in the 1970s...As you can plainly see, I am wisely taking cover while this picture is taken, saving myself the shame which surely went hand in hand with the pictures taken on this particular day...Maybe I'm playing with a bug...Maybe, just maybe, I'm throwing up...The world will never know for sure...


DAMN YOU, SUN! Damn you to HELL! Once again, we see that, while my attention, and the attention of my mother, is elsewhere, my sister is (once again) being molested by that damn sun...Or sneezing...Or being just plain "goofy." Regardless, at least she don't have that spooky redeye crap in this one...


And here we have a wonderful family portrait, likely taken at Sears, way back around 1980. Why those bastards INSISTED on turning on the orange light, I'll never know. Anyhow, it appears that they (wisely) gave me a toy to hold (conceivably to shut me up) while they did their thing. Too bad they couldn't give me a better shirt...Hell, it's not even a broncos jersey!..What the Hell?..


You've no doubt heard the phrase "stop and smell the roses" at some point in your life...Well, here I am, doing just that, while my sister gives the camera her best pose. I don't appear to be altogether pleased with the rose-smelling experience here...Perhaps I'm a bit pensive, fearing that if I lean too far in, I could become entagles in the thorns and never again be able to frolic in the sun. Or, it could be that I was just a weird little kid...


Here we are with my (late) grandpa Knight...Again: I'm not wearing a Broncos jersey. Additionally: why is my hair almost as long as my sister's? Moving on...


And finally, we wrap up today's photoblog with a shot of myself, my chronically red-eyed sister and some mystery girl, as we prepare to devour the sacrificial puppy in honor of my sister's 9th borthday. Sadly, we see that there are only 4 places set at the table for the ritual and only one is filled by a "friend." Perhaps that "friend" won a contest of some sort...Regardless, that dog was about to be history, you can believe that...

And so that's that! Thanks for stopping by, kids and don't forget to participate in the contest! You could win PRIZES!..Everybody loves prizes...

Labels: me roots, Phrickin' Photoblogs