Tag: Culture

Why National Hot Dog Day always leaves me feeling inadequate

“After realizing the size and scope of this assignment, I was feeling a little inadequate.”

Given that 1) yesterday was National Hot Dog Day, and 2) I have just returned to eating solid foods, it seemed like the perfect time to reminisce about the Oscar Mayer Weinermobile, which visited our town exactly one year ago today.

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 Why National Hot Dog Day always leaves me feeling inadequate

Journalists can’t wait to be shown… The Door

The Door in our newsroom: a sentinel of newspaper clippings, held together by history and a lot of tape.
The Door in our newsroom: a sentinel of newspaper clippings, held together by history and a lot of tape.
For those who have been following The Door, particularly in the last few weeks, then you know that media powerhouses ABC, CBS, NBC and the 700 Club have been pressuring me for an interview and exclusive access to what Diane Sawyer called “A journalistic treasure equal to the late Barbara Walters, God rest her soul… hmm? Oh, sorry. I mean, if she were dead.”

Needless to say the pressure has been tremendous. Even Morley Safer was pulled out of retirement to hound me, which he has been doing by continuously faxing images of his rear with the words “I will make you crack.”

So, yes — things have been a little tense here in the Siuslaw News editorial room, where The Door remains safe from blatant commercialism and media hype, while continuing to serve its dual purpose as both a journalistic mecca and restroom door. For those who may be visiting for the first time, perhaps because you have just been rescued from a deserted island along with a volleyball named “Wilson,” I should explain that The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance), is home to a collection of the best and worst examples of newspaper journalism, taped there by reporters at the Siuslaw News since the 1970s, back when most interviews took place while sitting naked in a grassy field. Each week, we highlight one of those historic examples, after which we wash our hands repeatedly. Continue reading Journalists can’t wait to be shown… The Door

To celebrate the completion of my book, I decided to contract what I’m pretty sure was ebola

My whereabouts since Saturday night. Well, here and kneeling in front of the commode. (No photo available)
My whereabouts since Saturday night. Well, here and kneeling in front of the commode. (No photo available)
After completing the final draft of my book on Saturday, I decided “What better way to celebrate than to contract a stomach virus?!?” Between Saturday night and this morning, I have spent equal time between laying in bed and kneeling at the commode until, Sunday morning, I hurled up what I believe was a penny I swallowed when I was seven. This morning I feel a little better, in that I have kept half a donut down. I had every intention of posting Flashback Sunday yesterday, but I couldn’t get my iPad to balance on the rim of the commode. Because of this, I’ll be posting a special Flashback Monday edition this evening, more than likely from a seated position in bed — which is a real improvement from most positions I’ve been in during the last 48 hours.

To everyone who left comments inquiring as to my whereabouts, I appreciate your concern and am comforted to know, should I ever come up missing, it will not go unnoticed by my wordpress friends. At least, not until Sunday.

Seriously, thanks for asking 😉

Even major news outlets are asking for… The Door

The Door in our newsroom. No, really...
The Door in our newsroom. No, really…
Even after turning down an angry Barbara Walters (“DWOP DEAD!”) and a still-sleeping Brit Hume (“Phhhhhhhh-zzzzzzzz”), major news networks like ABC, CBS, NBC, FOX and The 700 Club are continuing to call me about The Door, hoping to get an exclusive on what Brian Williams called “The most important contribution to journalism since that new girl on ‘Wipe-Out.'” Just this morning, John Quinones called my cell phone, demanding access to our newsroom with a camera crew, saying, “What would YOU do — if I kicked your skinny white CULO!”

For those of you wondering what all the fuss is about, I should explain that The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance) is located in our newsroom and is home to a collection of the best and worst examples of newspaper journalism, clipped and pasted to it by reporters here at Siuslaw News since the 1970s — back when truth was defined in black and white, yet the line between nose hair and mustaches was a little grey. For more than 40 years, The Door has served as a sentinel, preserving journalistic history while, simultaneously, preserving breathable air serving as the door to our commode. Continue reading Even major news outlets are asking for… The Door

Impress your friends and family! Freak out on a carnival ride

(If you know what today is, raise your right hand. Great! If you know what we do here each Sunday, raise your left hand. Fantastic! Now, with both hands in the air, walk to the medicine cabinet and take your medication — because if you believe I can actually see what you’re doing, there are more important things you need to deal with than reading today’s Flashback Sunday. For the rest of you, it’s time once again to delve into the Flashback archives, back to a time when all comments left by readers started with “I am liking your site very well!”; back when I made the empty promise of a free kitten to every new follower; back to a time when I thought “Freshly Pressed” was website offering the latest weight lifting records…)

Squirrel Cages I have a basic rule of thumb when it comes to carnival rides: If the person running a ride, such as the Squirrel Cages, keeps a garden hose available for spraying out the seats, I stay away.

That’s because this person’s sole ambition is to make me — and others like me — vomit. I realize this person may be a trained professional who, on a daily basis, makes countless split-second decisions on whether to push the red or green button to stop the ride. And, yes, I realize this individual has nothing but the safety of his passengers in mind when he secures a safety latch by removing his boot and whacking it until his arm gets tired, at which point, being a trained professional, he bolsters the confidence of his nervous riders by hacking up a cheekful of phlegm and shrugging his shoulders before walking off. Continue reading Impress your friends and family! Freak out on a carnival ride

The verdict is in: we the jury are free to go

image So as it turns out, the closest I got to witnessing any courtroom drama today was while sitting in the jury assembly room watching the Zimmerman trial on Court TV. Apparently, the defendant in the case WE were scheduled to hear this morning never showed. As a result, at approximately 11 a.m., “Municipal Betty,” who registered me when I arrived, stood before us and thanked us for our service before sending us on our way.

“None of you will have to worry about seeing this building again for two years,” she said. But as I walked by, she whispered, “Except for you, depending on what you do with that stolen car.”

“That really depends on you, ” I said, “and whether you want it back.”

Next stop: Circuit court!

For all of you who kept me company in the jury assembly room via my blog, many thanks 😉 Especially you, Lisa and Jen

And to Is Everyone an Idiot But Me, it was nice to meet you.

I was picked first! …for jury duty

image I just reported for jury duty a few minutes ago. My third time in two years. When I handed in my juror sheet to the registration desk, the women looked it over.

“Where did you park? We have free parking across the street.”

“I stole a car,” I replied.

“You know,” she said after giving me a long look, “if I had the power, I would totally excuse you.”

This post proves even God likes to use… The Door

The Door, which spellcheck instinctively keeps suggesting I call The Odor.
The Door which spellcheck appropriately enough keeps suggesting I call The Odor.
Some of you may remember the request from Barbara Walters last week for an interview about what she described as The Door’s “Journa-wistic and histowical impowtance,” and how, after denying her request for an interview, she told me to “DWOP DEAD!” Then you can imagine my surprise when, early this morning, the sleepy-eyed Brit Hume called just long enough to introduce himself before promptly falling asleep on the other end of the line. For any of you who have tried calling me this morning only to get a busy signal for the last two hours, it’s because the line is still open, with Hume snoring on the other end. Hopefully, someone will wake him for hair and make-up soon.

In the meantime, for those of you who may be new to The Door because, for example, you stumbled onto this post looking for home improvement tips, I’ll tell you it is a weekly feature that spotlights the best and worst in journalism that reporters here at Siuslaw News have been clipping and gluing to our newsroom door since the 1970s, back when journalists were looking for any excuse to open a tube of glue. Each Tuesday, we spotlight an entry from our newsroom door which, in addition to being the equivalent to a journalistic Smithsonian here on the Oregon coast, is also a time capsule of sorts, sealing up a different kind of journalistic history once the commode is flushed on the other side. Continue reading This post proves even God likes to use… The Door

Answering your painful questions about my softball season

(If you’re someone who doesn’t normally have flashbacks on a regular basis, but wants to start having them, this blog can help! And without expensive prescription medication or those annoying side effects, such as abdominal bleeding, thoughts of suicide or liver failure! That’s right! Welcome to Flashback Sunday, when we dig into the archives to a time before I had any readers who weren’t in the coma ward at Hackensaw Hospital; back when talking openly to a woman about your blog led to slap in the face; back when “Freshly Pressed” was a dry cleaners on Crenshaw Blvd. Today’s flashback is from 2004, when readers of my newspaper column wanted to know how my first season of men’s softball was going. You’ll be sorry they asked. I know I was…)

imageA few weeks ago I mentioned joining a men’s softball team after not participating in anything athletic since (conservative estimate) the golden era of dodgeball in the early ‘70s. In response, I have received letters and emails offering encouragement, support and, in an isolated incident, a lucky athletic cup from someone named “Derek.”

Admittedly, I was curious as to what qualified this particular cup as “lucky.” His response should be a lesson to us all regarding the dangers of continuous baseball usage.

“I used to get hit — there — almost every game,” Derek explained. “Sometimes two or three times. But my [censored] never got hurt.”

Though he didn’t mention it, I suspect Derek also has a “lucky” batting helmet. Continue reading Answering your painful questions about my softball season

Wimpy fireworks take excitement out of having facial hair

image First, the good news.

According to the National Council on Fireworks Safety, fireworks-related injuries have dropped by 75 percent in the last decade.

The bad news, as anyone over the age of 30 can tell you, is that today’s fireworks are about as exciting to watch as a pile of smoldering pencil shavings.

For example: It used to be that “sparklers” actually sparkled. They showered the air with tiny crackling embers so bright you could see them through your eyelids. The bravest kids would spin them like propellers, knowing full well their eyebrows would grow back by mid summer. Continue reading Wimpy fireworks take excitement out of having facial hair