Tag: Culture

First rule of a risqué photo shoot: Avoid flashing anyone

(It’s Sunday morning, and that can only mean one thing! Or possibly two, depending on if you’re waking up next to a commode. But hey, even if you are, WELCOME TO FLASHBACK SUNDAY! Ooops, sorry — I probably shouldn’t yell. I promise to keep my excitement to a whisper. What make’s this week’s Flashback particularly exciting is that it’s sponsored by the publishers of Random Day Books, who thought their release of 50 Shades of Time-Traveling Love Vampires would be a great tie-in to Flashback Sunday! So sit back — or sit up, if you aren’t wedged too tightly between the wall and porcelain — and let’s travel back to 2001… back to a time before I even had a blog.. back to a time when, even if I’d heard of Freshly Pressed, I would’ve thought it was an annual report from the Hamburger Patty Maker’s Union…)

image This morning, as you sit drinking your morning coffee and reading the paper, I will be taking photographs of naked senior citizens. I should point out that 1) they are aware that their pictures are being taken, because 2) they asked me to do it, after 3) taking one look at me and realizing they had nothing to be embarrassed about.

The photos are for a goofy calendar that will be sold to raise funds for a community pool in Mapleton, Ore. You should also know that the photos will not actually show anything controversial because all private areas will be covered by a strategically positioned prop, such as a AARP card.

The idea came from Nancy Walker, who reads the column and, after finding out that I’m also a photographer, approached me about taking the calendar pictures. Why? Because — as Nancy put it — she and her friends feel they know me well enough through my column that being around me with little or no clothing is “no big deal.” Continue reading First rule of a risqué photo shoot: Avoid flashing anyone

The world will be saved thanks to my friend’s lawn mowing in Atlanta

image After years of creating ad campaigns for high-profile companies like Coca-Cola, a good friend of mine in Atlanta has decided to do what many successful advertising people do when they reach that point in their careers where they can simply LOOK at a new product and, without any hesitation whatsoever, begin to vomit:

And that, of course, is to go into the lawn care business.

Like some of history’s most successful entrepreneurs, Fred spent time studying his new market, its trends and the competition before assembling a detailed business plan, which he described as follows: “I bought a lawnmower.”

On the surface, this may not sound like much of a business plan. But as Fred pointed out, what sets him apart from other lawn care enterprises around Atlanta — aside from his limited grasp of Spanish — is the TYPE of mower and equipment he’s using. While other lawn care enterprises utilize gas-powered equipment and emit enough exhaust smoke to divert air traffic as far west as Alabama, “I use manual-reel mowers, electric gear and hand tools in order to reduce emissions and promote more responsible, planet-friendly yard work,” Fred explained. Continue reading The world will be saved thanks to my friend’s lawn mowing in Atlanta

Join hundreds of journalists who use… The Door

The Door is Oregon's equivalent to a journalistic Smithsonian. Pretty much.
The Door is Oregon’s equivalent to a journalistic Smithsonian. Pretty much.
While it’s true The Door is a weekly feature written by a journalist, about journalism, and inspired by clippings taped to a 50-year-old door that shields real journalists from dangerous emissions from a mostly-working commode located in an actual newsroom, it is — like the commode itself — available for anyone to enjoy! That’s because The Door does not judge. It does not discriminate. It does not prejudge.

It also does not seal properly, but that’s beside the point.

As regular followers of this feature know, The Door celebrates the best and worst in journalism since the 1970s, when reporters here at the Siuslaw News taped the first erroneous clipping to The Door in an effort to highlight the “shame, blame and brilliance” of journalism, as well as cover a fist-sized hole in The Door that, while a handy pass-through for toilet paper, made decorum nearly impossible.

Think of The Door as the Oregon Coast equivalent of a journalistic Smithsonian, except without all the pompous credibility and historic distinction. Journalist or not, join us now as we travel back to 1999, when Eugene’s Register-Guard printed a report from the Associated Press that falls under the rare “brilliance” category of The Door. Continue reading Join hundreds of journalists who use… The Door

Behind every country music star is a great soda wrangler

(Think of this week’s Flashback Sunday as my own version of “Looper,” where we encounter a younger version of myself from a mind-bending span of… two weeks ago. That’s when part one of this post, “Shooting a Music Video? Avoid the Black-eyed Four-Step” first materialized from 2004 in our Sunday flashback. As you may recall, depending on how you spent last night, I was invited to the making of Adam Marshall’s country music video “Cowboy Hat,” which I quickly took him up on — and he just as quickly regretted. So now, as we do each week, let’s go back in time, back to when the only followers I had were promised free Sea Monkeys — and when I thought Freshly Pressed was a magazine for snooty French coffee drinkers…)

image As I mentioned several weeks ago, I was invited to participate in a music video by country singer Adam Marshall during the filming of his music video for “Cowboy Hat.” Though I haven’t actually seen the finished video yet, I can tell you the music is great, that everyone in it is attractive, and they can all dance really well. Which is why I can say, with some certainty, I am not in the final cut.

Yes, I was wearing a cowboy hat and boots.

Yes, I met Adam Marshall.

And no, I didn’t realize “Coyote Ugly” was a euphemism for someone at a singles bar who is highly attractive; at least not until I met my dance partner and politely introduced myself as “Wowwy.” Continue reading Behind every country music star is a great soda wrangler

Science links obesity to fat, lazy microbes

image Scientists at Cornell University have created a device capable of measuring the weight of a single cell. This is big news because it moves us beyond the limits of sub-gram measurements “nano,” “pico” and “femto,” and into an exciting new realm of measurements known as “zeppo,” “harpo” and “groucho.” This could eventually lead to the smallest and least-known unit of measure, “shempo.”

Many of you are probably wondering how useful this information really is when it seems most things — cars, houses, Americans in general — are actually getting bigger. Personally, I see no benefit in being able to describe my weight as “a little over 70 trillion harpo-grams.” And I can tell you no husband wants to be around when his wife discovers, after eating that extra helping of potato salad this July Fourth, that she not only gained back the 17 trillion zeppo-grams she’d lost, but also put on an extra two million grouchos. It doesn’t matter that all of this adds up to less than a single uncooked lima bean.

What matters is that if he made the potato salad, he will be held responsible. Continue reading Science links obesity to fat, lazy microbes

Before leaving the newsroom, four out of five journalists recommend using… The Door

The Door in all it's glory.
The Door in all it’s glory.
The above statement is more than just a flashy headline meant to hook you into reading this post. It’s a proven fact, based on a highly coordinated, in-depth poll taken over the course of three minutes here at the Siuslaw News.

I know what you’re asking yourself: Why not five out of five?

That’s because we actually only have four reporters in our newsroom. The fifth person in this poll isn’t “technically” a reporter because, technically speaking, he was already on the other side of The Door, jamming a plumbing snake down the commode. So, as a show of my journalistic integrity — and also because someone at the corporate office may read this and add more projects because of our “new five-person staff” — I couldn’t in good conscience claim 5-out-of-5 in my headline. Continue reading Before leaving the newsroom, four out of five journalists recommend using… The Door

I repeat: Your children have not been invaded by aliens — it’s just Father’s Day

(For the second week in a row, I am utilizing the power of Flashback Sunday to stay ahead of the space-time continuum and avoid actually being late on my post by convincing you, the reader, that Stephen Hawking says my columns are like a black hole, devoid of the confines of time, space and, as he put it, “Any actual content.” So journey with me now back to 2004, back when I thought Freshly Pressed was prison jargon for a white collar criminal who is added to the general population…

And in all sincerity to you Dads out there: Happy Father’s Day.)

image As any father will tell you, today is a very special day. That’s because it allows you to see what it would be like if your children came from another planet. On Father’s Day, children are required (And I’m pretty sure this is an actual law) to do things they would otherwise only do if there was some serious chocolate involved.

It is essentially a day similar to how you envisioned each day would be, back before you actually HAD children; back before reality set in, and you came to realize that, although insanity didn’t previously run in your family, there was a good chance it would be starting with you.

For example, on Fathers’ Day, there’s always enough hot water for my shower. That means plenty of time to wash-up, shave, and even get the mirror foggy so that, by squinting really hard, I sort of look like George Clooney in the shower, squinting really hard.

That’s on Fathers’ Day.

On normal days, the hot water lasts just long enough for me to realize that, in the time it takes for me to squint, I’m ALREADY OUT OF HOT WATER. Continue reading I repeat: Your children have not been invaded by aliens — it’s just Father’s Day

Best gumbo west of the south was almost good enough for first place

image So when the chef’s aprons finally hit the floor at the end of yesterday’s firefighter cook-off, and I realized why I’d been feeling a draft all day, our team finished second with our chicken and sausage gumbo. The host team from Newport, with it’s briquet chili, took the top prize. I didn’t get a chance taste it, but it must’ve been amazing in order to beat out the Best Gumbo West of the South.

Our chicken and sausage gumbo, with dirty rice. How dirty? It wouldn't get a "G" rating, let's put it that way.
Our chicken and sausage gumbo, with dirty rice. How dirty? It wouldn’t get a “G” rating, let’s put it that way.
Rumor has it the reason the judging ran late was because they were trying to decide between our gumbo and Newport’s chili.

I think it’s also possible that, after eating both dishes, they went out for beers to counteract the spiciness.

Our team, Greg and Arda Stober, along with my wife and I. Our clear display boxes had small strobe lights covered in red and yellow tissue paper to look like flames. That's just how cool we are.
Our team, Greg and Arda Stober, along with my wife and I. Our clear display boxes had small strobe lights covered in red and yellow tissue paper to look like flames. That’s just how cool we are.
Either way, I couldn’t be more proud of our team, which included my lovely wife, and fellow firefighters Greg and Arda Stober. We also had support from Janet and Annette, who made the trip from our Florence fire station to show their support by attempting to sabotage Newport’s chili with pieces of chopped up fire boot insoles.

Nice try, girls. Continue reading Best gumbo west of the south was almost good enough for first place

Ned’s Nickel’s Worth on… Gumbo?

image I know what you’re thinking. But we can’t talk about that without changing the rating on this blog. So instead, we’ll talk about what I’m thinking, which is how I failed you this morning. For those loyal readers who checked for this week’s edition of Ned’s Nickel’s Worth on Writing, I’d like to apologize to the both of you. The good news, however, is that you won’t have to cough up a nickel this week; the bad news is that I will not be dispensing any sagely advice, although I did use a pinch of sage while spending the day in the firehouse kitchen making gumbo, dirty rice and chocolate lava cake for the annual firehouse cook-off tomorrow.

The other bad news is that if you literally have been coughing up a nickel each week, stop immediately and go see your physician.

In order to take today day off from the newspaper, I had to work approximately 42 hours, seven minutes and 13 seconds yesterday to finish what I would normally achieve in eight hours. Stephen Hawking, if you’re out there, please explain the science behind this phenomenon. Especially when you consider that seven of those hours are spent getting/drinking coffee, using the restroom and getting/drinking more coffee. As a result, I didn’t have time to write this week’s NWOW. Continue reading Ned’s Nickel’s Worth on… Gumbo?

This Just In!

image Journalism is about concrete facts. For example, did you know the first all-weather shoe was actually made of cement and worn by the Glug-Glug tribe of the West Indies, which disappeared 300 years ago while crossing a frozen lake? Blogger ddupre315 at Random Thoughts of Existance called me out on this rule after realizing my previous This Just In post failed to explain what kind of air freshener “The Voice” used to freshen up the bathroom after “Joe.”

As ddupre315 expressed, “How could you leave out an important detail in such an enthralling story? Disappointed…”

Soooooo
Tat-tat-tat-Tat-tat-tat-tat-Tat-Tat-tat-tat-Tat Continue reading This Just In!