Tag: Culture

Potty train your child using the Jedi Knight method

image As I sat reading an article about the new Star Wars Trilogy now in production, I suddenly had an epiphany: Potty training our children had been a lot like training young Jedi Knights!

This prompted me to devise a what I am calling the Jedi Potty-Training Program — something that is spiritual, aggressive and, hopefully, a lot less messy than the old-fashioned method of staring at your child until they make a face that looks like they are having a BM, then racing them to the commode.

Because of our subject matter’s explicit nature, we will be using GALACTIC terms during this discussion. Whenever you see this special GALACTIC font style, you’ll know that I’m JUST MESSING WITH YOU.

Ha Ha! No, that font means that it’s important enough to justify wielding my special GALACTIC font-making powers as a way to highlight the fact that I’m BEING SUED BY GEORGE LUCUS. Continue reading Potty train your child using the Jedi Knight method

I’m 48 today AND it’s my 30th class reunion; way to rub it in, God

The kind of excitement my birthday is generating.
The kind of excitement my birthday is generating.
This morning, after unpinning my legs from under our Labrador, I pulled back the covers and rolled out of bed, bringing my feet to the floor for the first time as a 48-year-old.

So far, so good, I thought, then stretched, twisted and stood before sliding into my pants. I’ve always told myself, when I have to start sitting down to put my pants on, THAT’S when I’ll know I’m getting old. But this morning I realized that wasn’t entirely true: It’ll start long before that, when I can no longer get out from under the dog.

Naturally, the first thing my son asked me this morning is if I felt a year older. I told him I didn’t, but that I was starting to forget little things, like including his name in my will. And I might’ve accidentally worn his underwear while jogging yesterday. Plus, I may have posted a Justin Bieber link to his Facebook instead of his sister’s. But other than those minor memory glitches, I hadn’t noticed any real difference in becoming a year older. Continue reading I’m 48 today AND it’s my 30th class reunion; way to rub it in, God

Six attempts to catch the sun worth a Long Awkward Pause

It’s Saturday, and that means I’m over at Long Awkward Pause! Why? Because they have great coffee! Actually, that’s not entirely true. We don’t even have a coffeemaker. But there IS a Starbuck’s across the street, and Chris doesn’t know we have his wallet, so… Free Mochaccinos for everyone! While we’re there, each of us at LAP will be commenting on The Saturday Six, which are six related images that are just plain awkward — like all of my yearbook photos. This week’s subject? When you go onto the Internet asking for help Photoshopping the sun between your fingers like this guy did, be prepared for anything under the sun — as long as it’s not between your fingers…

1. Not Quite What I Had In Mind

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BrainRants: I approve – looks like some shit straight out of a Monty Python opener.

Ned: “And the Suns win it with a field goal!”

Omawarisan: I don’t think the one on the right is a finger.

Jack: Technically this is what he asked for, he has no reason to complain.

singlegirlie: Is that Jon Hamm and Tommy Lee nude sunbathing on the other side of those trees?

(Trust me, it gets much worse. How much worse? Join me for five more examples at Long Awkward Pause by pinching here!)

Another awkward moment at the mall thanks to Rihanna

As many of you know, my trips to the mall — although infrequent — often result in some type of awkward mishap. Maybe it’s because I’m a friendly person by nature who doesn’t discriminate because of race, creed, color, religious affiliation or, as with my last mall visit, even those who happen to be a mannequin. However, today’s visit to the mall was just plain embarrassing. Keep in mind that in the few months since the release of my book, I’ve had — and I’m not exaggerating — at least two people recognize me from outside a 10-mile radius of my hometown. Although I’m learning to accept this kind of celebrity, I could have never anticipated the reaction I got from Rihanna during today’s trip to the mall with my son…

Who knew Rihanna was so clingy?!?
Who knew Rihanna was so clingy?!?

Fortunately, my quick-thinking son Jake was able to snap this photo of me rebuffing Rihanna while exiting “Purfumania” after not finding any Hai-Karate aftershave.

I’m just thankful it wasn’t Oprah…

Nanoo nanoo, Robin

image The first time I saw Robin Williams he was tossing an egg into the air the same way one might release a dove. “Fly! Be FREE!” he gleefully hollered as “Mork from Ork.” On his face was a mixture of hope and enthusiasm that was infectious. Magical. As if he could see something none of us could — but that we believed in because of the innocent faith he projected. For a brief moment, as the egg was suspended in the air, it seemed entirely possible that it would defy the laws of physics and take flight, propelled by the power of laughter from the live studio audience.

But as I sat in front of the TV and watched the egg fall to the counter top with a splat, the laughter was suddenly squelched into a sympathetic hush. Robin kneeled in front of the shattered egg, devastated, unable to fathom why the joyous release had ended so abruptly. In that moment he won the hearts of an entire generation of fans, including mine. I also understood for the first time that humor is the flip side of sadness — and how there are few things that can unite people, or open their hearts to a new perspective, as quickly as laughter. Continue reading Nanoo nanoo, Robin

Why do we write? I’ll answer that as soon as I’m back from vacation

Me in vacation mode. Yeah, it's not pretty...
Me in vacation mode. Yeah, it’s not pretty…
Welcome to Ned’s Nickel’s Worth on Writing, that time each week when I scoop the coffee beans of writing wisdom that have been slow-roasted over 15 years as a columnist, grind them up, brew and filter it while making a loud “Whhhshhhhhhhhrrrrrr” sound from the corner of my mouth, scrape the resulting coffee creation into a mug, and then offer it to you to enjoy before running across the street to grab myself a mocha latte from Starbuck’s.

It’s a weekly feature Publishers’ Digest has called “…Tips similar to a triple espresso, leaving writers shaky and a little paranoid.”

Or what The Master of Horror® Stephen King heralded as “…Another reason I drink Earl Gray.”

But enough accolades!

Let’s face it, most people don’t understand why we do what we do as writers. The average person, if given a choice between writing a 250-word essay or having their bare butts tased, will have their pants around their ankles before you can say “AAAAGGGGHHHHH!” Still, thanks to social media there are more people than ever tapping on keyboards. But let’s say the Internet permanently crashed tomorrow because of some catastrophic failure — such as a leaked Brad and Angelina sex tape. Most people, once they stopped staring at a blank monitor, wouldn’t grab a note pad and keep writing without social media.

But writers would. Continue reading Why do we write? I’ll answer that as soon as I’m back from vacation

Larger-brained humans will only lead to race of fat-heads

A gift from a reader helps demonstrate how, if the journal Science is correct, one of these human head proportions may be accurate by the next generation. The question is, with today’s television programming, which size will it be?
As if we didn’t have enough problems already, according to a report in the journal Science the human brain is getting bigger. In fact, from what I understand (based on my in-depth analysis of a five-word headline in the New York Post), there’s a good chance yours may be outgrowing your skull right now. Signs this may be occurring include: vomiting, nausea, dizziness, frequent headaches and bleeding from the ears. If you suffer from any or all of these symptoms, DO NOT PANIC! They may only be the side effects of your current FDA-approved medication for acid reflux.

Then again, your brain might have actually gotten bigger since you started reading this column. And not just because of the sheer quality of writing — which is always a possibility (keeping in mind the same symptoms may apply.)

Before we go on, I should, as a responsible journalist, take a moment and actually read the article. In the meantime, I’d suggest applying equal amounts of pressure to both sides of your head, just to be safe.

… OK. Sorry — false alarm. Continue reading Larger-brained humans will only lead to race of fat-heads

Six pregnancy photos worth a Long Awkward Pause

Saturday mornings.

That magical time when you can finally take a deep breath, give a soul-cleansing exhale, then savor your first relaxed sip of coffee before inadvertently choking on it and spewing it on the family pet. Why is this happening? Because it’s also time for The Saturday Six, when I and the rest of the staff at Long Awkward Pause offer comments on six images which, like many families living deep in the Tennessee mountains, are loosely related and awkward. This week’s topic is awkward pregnancy photos, the first of which might’ve actually been taken from somewhere in those aforementioned mountains…

1. The Circle Of Life?

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Ned: She’s not pregnant; that’s just where the other turkey went.

Jack: This Thanksgiving, everyone will be stuffed!

Omawarisan: If he’d have just choked his turkey a few months ago…

Chris: This guy doesn’t understand the term: ‘Bun in the oven.’

(And yet… it gets even more weird. How much more? Let’s just say this photo of an expectant mother gripping a dead turkey is probably the most artful example. Don’t believe me? Then join me over to LAP…)

Your writing muse is always the last place you look

image Welcome to Ned’s Nickel’s Worth on Writing, that time each week when I rake up the scattered leaves of wisdom that have fallen from the tree of writing during my 15 years as a columnist, then offer them to you in a tightly sealed bag of literary knowledge, which happens to resemble a giant jack-o-lantern because we still haven’t used up the novelty trash bags we bought last Halloween.

It’s a weekly feature Publishers’ Digest has called “Insights every writer should know before deciding on a career in public sanitation,” and what The Master of Horror® Stephen King has heralded as “The kind of tips I would give, assuming I was still hooked on Percocet.”

But enough accolades!

When you consider that there were nine Muses in Greek mythology, you’d think finding yours would be pretty easy. In fact, I’m looking for mine right now. The Muses, as you probably know, were all extraordinarily beautiful women (remember, philosophers were all men back then), with names like Fallopia, Urethra, Tetracycline, Chlamydia, Herpes, etc., and were the daughters of mighty Zeus and the goddess of personified memory… uh, whose name escapes me. Each muse served as inspiration for different art forms, such as literature, oration, sculpture, music, Reuben sandwiches, and others. Continue reading Your writing muse is always the last place you look

Another visit from the Wienermobile leaves me feeling inadequate

Maybe it’s because I’m a man, but when I see a giant wienermobile approaching from behind in traffic, I tend to drive a little more defensively. Such was the case this morning when I noticed the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile in my rearview mirror. Though it’s been two years since the last time I was assigned to cover a big wiener (not counting election season), the sight of it immediately caused a flashback from 2012… [cue harp music and begin gauzy dream sequence…]

image After more than a decade of working in the high-pressure environment of our newsroom, where at any given moment you could find yourself surrounded by as many as two other journalists all typing at once, it takes a lot to get our adrenaline pumping. In fact, we have been at the epi-center of the national spotlight three times here in Florence. Sure, two occasions came after being singled out as having the nation’s highest rate of … (yawn) … retirees.

But the third time involved REAL explosives.

And a dead whale.

And quite possibly an unlicensed demolitions expert going through a divorce. This would explain using half a ton of dynamite to dispose of a rotting whale carcass that washed ashore, and how one onlooker literally chewed the fat after being struck by a piece if flying whale blubber. Continue reading Another visit from the Wienermobile leaves me feeling inadequate