tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87932322523614458642023-06-15T07:03:14.024-04:00RamblingBeachCat.comAuthor home and brain pan of Nick NafpliotisNick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.comBlogger340125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-57492497012498404672017-12-31T17:46:00.002-05:002017-12-31T17:50:03.117-05:00Short Story Sunday: The Corruption of Rome<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Every Sunday (okay...most Sundays), I will post a short story for your enjoyment and/or derision. This one originally appeared in <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Wicked-Words-Quarterly-Issue-September-ebook/dp/B00N8A9ETM/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1514758527&sr=1-1&keywords=wicked+words+quarterly+2" target="_blank">Wicked Words Quarterly #2 in September 2014</a>. All feedback is welcome and appreciated.</i><br />
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<i>Also, does anyone know if Donald Trump owns a horse?</i></div>
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“<i>This would be so much easier with warships</i>,” Incitatus thought as pulled the hood of his cloak over his head.</div>
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It was more a complaint of convenience than a strategic observation. Incitatus knew how difficult a conventional assault could be against these creatures. He’d been a part of the ground forces during the last disastrous invasion on this planet. What the humans lacked in technology, they more than made up for in determination and a willingness to engage in violent combat. It was part of the reason that Incitatus’ world, along with so many others, had decided that the dominant earth species could not be allowed to progress towards becoming a unified planet. <br />
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Despite their brutal nature, human technology was advancing at an alarming rate. At their current pace, interstellar travel would be possible for them in approximately 2,000 years. While that may have seemed like an infinite amount of time to some, it represented a very real and imminent threat to the rest of the universe. Fortunately, the lack of unity that plagued the human's had managed to keep them at bay, at least for the time being. They were far too preoccupied with dividing their lands by imaginary lines and warring over trivial differences to dedicate their full attention to scientific progress. <br />
<br />
But all it would take was one of the humans’ many “empires” to unite them under one rule, thus unlocking their species' full potential. <br />
<br />
It could be by force, benevolence, or a combination of both—it really didn’t matter. Their planet’s focus and resources would finally be diverted from the constant expansion and defense of land ownership and into exploration. After that, years of research, study, and progress would push them to the rest of the galaxy’s front door, where the humans’ thirst for ownership over all their discoveries would surely lead to war.<br />
<br />
The simple solution would have been just to wipe them out of existence, but the interplanetary elders refused to kill an entire planet due to the nature of its dominant inhabitant. This was probably due as much to ethical concerns as it was a desire to eventually harvest the planet for its bountiful resources. It was also an easy decision for them to make since it had been Incitatus’ people who were called upon to do the dirty work.</div>
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***</div>
<br />
Jumping into the human’s solar system was a massive undertaking, both in regards to time and resources. In fact, it could only be done once every 1,000 years. This made it imperative that the targeted empire be eradicated completely and without any witnesses to its destruction. If the humans had a common enemy to unite against, it would only hasten their progress into other galaxies.<br />
<br />
An empire located in earth’s Indus Valley had been the first to be targeted by the council. When the warships arrived and began their assault, the battle looked like it would be over as quickly as it began. But the humans admirably tenacious, retreating from major population centers and engaging in guerilla warfare. Their attacks were laughably futile, but they did succeed in keeping the armada on earth much longer than the allotted resources for the invasion could last. After losing far too many good soldiers to hunger and disease, Incitatus had been the one who’d authorized an atomic burn to finish off the rest.<br />
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Now, however, he was the instrument of a far different tactic. The Roman Empire had grown alarmingly powerful and advanced in a startlingly short amount of time. Rather than engaging them in a massive assault, however, Incitatus’ commander had drawn up a potentially cleaner--and much better--plan.<br />
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“<b>Let’s stop uniting them in battle and start using their greatest weakness to our advantage,</b>” he’d said, placing two wriggling worms into Incitatus’ hand. <br />
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He secured the tiny creatures in a small compartment on his belt, then entered the pod to begin his long journey to earth—though not nearly as long as he’d remembered. Sending one operative was much quicker and easier than transporting a full-scale invasion force.<br />
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After arriving on the portion of earth known as Rome, Incitatus made sure his return pod was well hidden before making haste toward the empire’s seat of power. Upon reaching his first targeted destination, he activated his cloak, which made him temporarily invisible to the humans’ eyes. It wouldn't be able to stay on for very long without being recharged, but still provided more than enough time was to get him past the palace guards unseen. He then slinked up towards the main bedroom where his first target, Rome’s emperor, soundly slept. <br />
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During the first few months of his reign, Caligula had shown himself to be a fair and noble ruler. The people worshipped and adored him, referring to their new leader as “our baby” and “our star.” He was a bit too loose with the public’s money, but his knack for diplomacy—along with his unbridled ambition—made him a dangerous man to be leading the earth’s greatest empire. Unfortunately for him, that was going to end tonight.<br />
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Incitatus crawled up to Caligula’s bedside, making sure that the human male was fully asleep. He reached into his belt and pulled out the first worm, holding it carefully in his thumb and forefinger. Then with his other hand, he quickly reached up and grabbed Caligula’s throat, startling him awake.<br />
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“<i>You are a God</i>,” Incitatus whispered while placing the worm into his ear. “<i>You have no reason to deny yourself any authority or pleasure, for you are greater than all that you rule. All those who are close to you, even the ones who you trust the most, will betray you</i>.”<br />
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Caligula gasped as the worm slithered down his ear canal and into his brain. His forehead suddenly began to burn, causing sweat to burst from every pore of his flushed skin. He gasped what sounded like a word of admonishment, then immediately blacked out.<br />
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“<i>Now to make sure that this continues to work,</i>” Incitatus thought.</div>
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He leapt out the bedroom window to the ground below and quickly made his to the stables. He took off his cloak, causing the horses to move and shift nervously as he approached one of the nearest pens. Moving with speed that was both blinding and completely silent, Incitatus put his hand one of the horse’s necks and reached into his belt.<br />
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“<i>Conduit</i>,” he whispered while sliding the worm into the creature’s ear. <br />
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The horse thrashed violently at first, but quickly calmed down, looking directly at Incitatus as if it waiting for further instruction.<br />
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“<i>You will be my vessel to speak with the master of this empire</i>,” he continued, stroking the animal’s long mane. “<i>You will be his most trusted advisor, perhaps even what he loves the most. He will even call you by my name.</i>”<br />
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The horse responded by making a motion with its head that resembled a nod.<br />
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If all went according to plan, Caligula’s rule would be diverted from its current path of greatness into one of chaos and upheaval. The worms’ influence, combined with some careful prodding from Incitatus, would begin a chain reaction that would eventually bring down the Roman Empire. <br />
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Incitatus knew that what he’d done did not constitute a permanent solution. But if this worked, then there was no reason that they couldn’t do it again in another thousand years.<style>
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<b><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am directly, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background: transparent; color: #0a299c; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">on Twitter</a>.</i></b></h3>
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<b style="font-family: "times new roman", times, freeserif, serif;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<b><i>To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="background: transparent; color: #0a299c; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, Incitatus decides not to put a corruptive worm in a world leader's ear.</i></b></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-61857744341229040052017-12-29T15:21:00.000-05:002018-04-21T13:00:02.711-04:00Nick's Nutty Nightmares: Pregnancy Scare<div style="text-align: center;">
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Since <a href="http://www.ramblingbeachcat.com/2017/12/a-letter-to-my-dog-half-pint.html" target="_blank">the letter to my dog Half Pint</a> apparently caused people to feel depressed (instead of it's intended goal of being inspirational), I figured I owed everyone something different for my next post.<br />
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So today for your reading pleasure, I present a slightly detached retelling of one of the weirdest dreams ever to spring forth from my slumbering, unbalanced mind. Some folks I've told about it have encouraged me to write the dream down as a story--although part of me wonders if they're saying that because I die near the end.<br />
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Either way, here goes...<br />
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I can't remember the exact age I was when this dream occurred, but I do know it was during my high school years, primarily because it involved me being on an FBI task force investigating an unexplainable crime. In case that didn't make it clear enough, I was quite the X-Files fan back in the day.<br />
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Oh, and Prince was one of the agents on our team, too.<br />
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His presence not only establishes this story as a figment from the depths of my subconscious imagination (the man would've never worn a plain black FBI suit), but it also confirms that even as a teenager, my taste in music was impeccable.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>I could never pull off his style, though</i></span></td></tr>
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We arrived at a large hospital to interview the victims of a crime as tragic as it was bizarre: Expectant pregnant women had woken up that morning to discover that their unborn children had vanished without a trace. No signs of afterbirth or surgical removal scars. They were just gone.<br />
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We interviewed one woman after another, each understandably vacillating between distraught hysterics and focused rage. It was bad enough that their babies had disappeared, but this crime had also been committed against them inside a hospital, the one place where they should have felt the most protected and well-cared for.<br />
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We eventually got around to the one pregnant woman left in the maternity ward, who was sitting in rocking chair inside a darkened delivery room. The area around her was illuminated by a strange yellow/orange glow. We soon learned that light radiating off of her was the result of an extreme (and fascinating) measure the woman had taken in an effort to ensure her unborn child did not meet the same fate as the others. She'd somehow obtained a gel which, after being rubbed on her stomach, made it completely transparent. It also lighted the area it has been applied to like a large endoscope, providing us with a full, bioluminescent view of the late term baby's embryonic state.<br />
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Yeah, I'm not sure what was going on at this point either.<br />
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The woman explained to us that if she could watch the baby inside her, then whoever or whatever was taking them wouldn't be able to abscond with hers. I don't remember who spoke to her after that--or if anyone asked where she got the gel from--but it sure as hell wasn't me. I was too freaked out to say anything.<br />
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***</div>
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After finishing up our interviews, everyone headed back outside to the parking lot. We stood around several black SUVs (of course) and parsed through various explanations for potential clues about what was happenig.</div>
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"Hey guys," I said. "I know you're not going to want to hear this, but maybe we should start considering paranormal possibilities."</div>
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"Oh great," sighed a woman who bared striking resemblance to Gillian Anderson. "Here we go..."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>...said with this exact same expression</i></span></td></tr>
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The rest of the team muttered their agreement. Some of them also began needling me for my obsession with finding bizarre explanations for everything.<br />
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I had clearly put myself in the Fox Mulder role (minus David Duchovny's sexiness), but it was also a role I often found myself in with my peers. While I never reached <a href="http://www.ramblingbeachcat.com/2013/04/alex-jones-brilliant-at-pretending-to.html" target="_blank">Alex Jones' levels of brazen stupidity</a>, I will cop to being one of those people in my younger days who used to look for conspiracies or paranormal possibilities in every odd occurrence.</div>
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Of course, I was also 14-18 years old. Alex Jones is a grown ass man who still thinks the government is behind it whenever a dog farts.</div>
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Anyway, I think we can all agree that in this case, I actually did have some solid ground to stand on. Unborn babies were vanishing without a trace from their mother's wombs--and we'd just seen a woman who'd rubbed some type of transparent, bioluminescent oil on her stomach to watch and protect her own. At the very least it was all types of strange.<br />
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I stepped out in front of the group to plead my case. This put all the agents with their backs to the main hospital structure as they face me to hear what I had to say. Little did I know that this movement would be what (temporarily) saved my life. Almost as soon as I began to speak, gunshots reigned down from behind us. The cacophony of gunfire was both deafening and ruthlessly efficient. Whether by the sheer quantity of bullets or a few precisely aimed shots, every single member of my team was gunned down in a matter of seconds. I watched in horror as one of the bullets struck Prince in the head, dropping him instantly.<br />
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I managed to duck behind a large SUV in time to avoid getting shot myself. The ambush was over as quickly as it had started, leaving me crouched and panting in what was otherwise complete silence. I don't remember how long I sat there, but at some point, I eventually drew my gun out of its holster and began to edge around the SUV.<br />
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Please keep in mind that despite how badass this might sound, it was not necessarily an act of bravery. I was completely losing my shit at this point. My heart was beating so hard that I could feel it in my ears. Every breath I took felt like it was fighting through a wool cloth to get inside my lungs.<br />
<br />
But I knew I couldn't just sit there. Whoever just massacared my team might be heading down to the parking lot to make sure they completed the job.<br />
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Also, those bastards killed Prince. No way I was going to let that go unavenged.<br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The doves would have time to cry tomorrow.</span></i><br />
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I crouch-ran across the parking lot to the hospital's main building and slammed my back up against the outside wall. After checking to see if there was anyone pointing a gun at me, I began to make my way up a bizarrely placed set of fire escape steps--which eventually led to a door to the same maternity ward floor where we'd previously been interviewing patients.<br />
<br />
If I was a real FBI agent, than this would've been a great time to notice/do a couple things:<br />
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1.) Call for backup.<br />
2.) Wonder why the hell there weren't a bunch of people screaming and running out of the hospital.<br />
<br />
Also, I'm going to go ahead and assume that my visual checks for a shooter were grossly insufficient. I'm one of those people in first person shooter video games who gets sniped a bunch and angrily blames it on magic instead of my own lack of awareness.<br />
<br />
Regardless, I still managed to make it to the door unharmed and without incident. After carefully slipping inside, I was surprised to find that the previously bustling hospital was now completely empty. No staff. No patients. Nobody. All the lights and equipment were still on, but there were no signs of anyone having recently fled the area. No overturned crash carts, scattered papers, or empty wheelchairs in sight. It was as if every person in the hospital had vanished just like the unborn children had the night before.<br />
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I kept my gun drawn and began working my way from the main lobby to the first corridor of maternity rooms. After rounding the corner, I found myself staring down a long hallway filled with doors on either side.<br />
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Before I could take my first step to begin checking the rooms, all the doors opened at once. As you might imagine, this caused both my blood pressure and firearm to spring up immediately. To my surprise (and complete confusion), a group of women who I did not recognize from the previous interviews emerged from each of the rooms and turned to face me.<br />
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They all had identical long black hair and were dress in identical over-sized hospital gowns. They were also barefoot, holding their arms down rigidly at their sides...and blindfolded.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ACI9eAgmX_M/WkV-mGuFUmI/AAAAAAAAIFY/H1YVW0rMkw4Zu1DvQkpaQzjBQUG1xm4VACLcBGAs/s1600/blindfold.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="220" data-original-width="320" height="275" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ACI9eAgmX_M/WkV-mGuFUmI/AAAAAAAAIFY/H1YVW0rMkw4Zu1DvQkpaQzjBQUG1xm4VACLcBGAs/s400/blindfold.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I lowered my weapon (big mistake) and began to ask something along the lines of "Are you okay?" or "What happened?" or "Who did this to you?"</div>
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Whatever I'd meant to say, the words never had a chance to leave my lips. In perfect synchronization, the women all lifted one arm, revealing that they each been concealing a gun behind the flow of their hospital gowns. Then they calmly fired and pumped me full of lead. </div>
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It didn't hurt (thankfully), but the impact of all those bullets did cause me to go airborne and fly backwards. I'm not sure if that's how getting hit by multiple close-range firearms works, but I wasn't in any position to question the physics at play. I was, however, able to somehow process that I'd just been killed.<br />
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But what really threw me for a loop was what happened to my point of view. As I flew up off the ground, my vision flew up toward the ceiling. It remained fixed there for a few seconds after I landed on my back on the hospital floor. Then, like a camera in a bad student film, everything panned back toward the blindfolded women, who all still had one arm extended with a smoking firearm in their hand.<br />
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Without moving her head, a woman near the front said:</div>
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<b>"We're free now. We can go."</b></div>
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I can't remember if she said both of these statements or only one of them. I'd just been shot, so you're going to have to cut me some slack.</div>
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After this declaration, the blindfolded women all put their arms down, turned around, and walked away.</div>
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Then I woke up.</div>
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***</div>
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<b>W. T. F.</b></div>
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If there's any psychological analysis that can be derived from that, I'm not sure I want to hear it. Also, at the time this dream occurred, I was still under the laughably false impression that <a href="https://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/02/24/dream-facts-dreaming_n_4824935.html" target="_blank">you couldn't die in your dreams</a>--at least without dying in real life.</div>
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Suffice it to say, I was overjoyed to wake up and find myself still breathing (and that I hadn't pissed myself). Despite how grateful I was to be alive, though, the dream's many unanswered questions and chilling resolution began haunting me in the first hour after I woke--and still bugs me to this day.<br />
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Weirdest dream I've ever had? Definitely.<br />
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Scariest nightmare? Not even close.<br />
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I'll save that for another post.<br />
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***</div>
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<b><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am directly, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background: transparent; color: #0a299c; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">on Twitter</a>.</i></b></h3>
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<b style="font-family: "times new roman", times, freeserif, serif;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<b><i>To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="background: transparent; color: #0a299c; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, another blind-folded woman in a hospital decides to let me go instead of gunning me down.</i></b></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-56257875414023377612017-12-25T23:33:00.000-05:002017-12-26T15:58:13.179-05:00Top 10 Christmas Gifts Definitely Getting Returned This Holiday Season<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q-X31ZMfyyg/WkGyMOB1EmI/AAAAAAAAH3g/gnECubYdU6o2y3u8idOFAfv0bRRAJEhLACLcBGAs/s1600/returnline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="306" data-original-width="640" height="191" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q-X31ZMfyyg/WkGyMOB1EmI/AAAAAAAAH3g/gnECubYdU6o2y3u8idOFAfv0bRRAJEhLACLcBGAs/s400/returnline.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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You know the feeling. That bizarre mix of guilt and crushing disappointment that occurs after you open a terrible gift.<br />
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On one hand, you don't want to seem ungrateful. On the other, how could someone who cared about you enough to get you something pick out a gift that you would undoubtedly hate?<br />
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You could always pretend to like it, but that will bring about the inevitable moment weeks and/or months later when they ask how you're enjoying the gift so far (or worse, question why they haven't seen you utilizing/enjoying it). That would require another lie, which may very well require another, and another, and so on. Doing this with multiple gift givers, especially if they're family or friends you see everyday, requires a level of deception and subterfuge that would put a Russian spy to shame. Before you know it, you're running for office in a gerrymandered district and offering "thoughts and prayers" for every disaster instead of actually fixing anything and wondering where your soul went.<br />
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So yeah...your best bet is to ask politely as possible if they have a gift receipt and return that junk. If it makes you feel better, you can go stand in line at Walmart or Target to pay your penance for being such a terrible friend/family member.<br />
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In the meantime, here's a list of the Top 10 most returnable gifts for this holiday season you can read while you wait--unless you actually got one of these items, of course. Then you're likely in hiding and trying to start a new life away from the people suck this badly at giving gifts.<br />
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10. Alexia Meditation Seat Zen Yoga Chair for Home or Office</h2>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kIPzAEekh7U/WkGmYfyv5HI/AAAAAAAAH2o/weeDYdemztgHIhvFbcxCn9UN20bETpckQCLcBGAs/s1600/yoga.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1125" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kIPzAEekh7U/WkGmYfyv5HI/AAAAAAAAH2o/weeDYdemztgHIhvFbcxCn9UN20bETpckQCLcBGAs/s400/yoga.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01HUGF0QK/ref=?tag=natdee-20" target="_blank"><i>Amazon.com</i></a></div>
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I may not be a regular yoga practicer, but I've just about achieved the same pose as the one pictured above--without the aid of arm/knee rests--by making sure my butt stayed clear of the seat on a gas station toilet.</div>
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Also, it's worth noting that this product costs <b>$346.99</b>, although it does come with free shipping, which seems like the least the company could do for ripping you off so badly. If you can afford to drop that much money on a yoga chair, however, then finding your zen seems like something you checked off the list several commodity sales ago.</div>
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9. Hidrate Spark 2.0</h2>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5lAVLUup0_k/WkGneueFArI/AAAAAAAAH2w/rNfd2MNBJyAUzs3lOyWEHxzesp-57NVGwCLcBGAs/s1600/hidrate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5lAVLUup0_k/WkGneueFArI/AAAAAAAAH2w/rNfd2MNBJyAUzs3lOyWEHxzesp-57NVGwCLcBGAs/s400/hidrate.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://hidratespark.com/products/hidrate-spark-2-0?variant=300271042584&gclid=EAIaIQobChMIq4zaqMSm2AIVlrrACh06RwBQEAQYASABEgLdP_D_BwE" target="_blank"><i>Hidratespark.com</i></a></div>
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You may have seen commercials for this handy little device while waiting for a Youtube video to start. Since you probably clicked to skip the ad as fast as humanly possible, here's all you need to know: Every time you haven't had a sip of water in a while, the bottle gets your attention by flashing a bright light and causing anyone nearby with epilepsy to have a seizure.</div>
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Look, I get what the intent of this thing is. I'll even cop to being one of those people who constantly carries a water bottle around with them <a href="https://www.rd.com/health/wellness/drinking-too-much-water/" target="_blank">despite all the studies</a> saying <a href="https://www.mensjournal.com/health-fitness/you-re-probably-drinking-too-much-water-20151103/" target="_blank">we drink too much water these days</a>. But a blinking light to tell you when to drink? It's bad enough people have watches that tell them when to stand up. Pretty soon we'll all be wearing shock collars that tell us when we need to take a piss.</div>
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For now, though, I'll stick with my body's reliable method of "feeling thirsty" to let me know when it's time to rehydrate.</div>
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8. CO1369 Toothpick Holder by Andrea Branzi</h2>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BRA6DnGD21E/WkGtT0qOtbI/AAAAAAAAH3M/yhfHfKKRMnAvokKrPOTmMBSVq3Zr8yZkgCLcBGAs/s1600/toothpick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="500" height="340" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BRA6DnGD21E/WkGtT0qOtbI/AAAAAAAAH3M/yhfHfKKRMnAvokKrPOTmMBSVq3Zr8yZkgCLcBGAs/s400/toothpick.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B000BGT14E/ref=asc_df_B000BGT14E5314332/?tag=hyprod-20&creative=395033&creativeASIN=B000BGT14E&linkCode=df0&hvadid=194866953007&hvpos=1o4&hvnetw=g&hvrand=12994584278956360069&hvpone=&hvptwo=&hvqmt=&hvdev=c&hvdvcmdl=&hvlocint=&hvlocphy=9010526&hvtargid=pla-311679336201" target="_blank"><i>Amazon.com</i></a></div>
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For only <b>$189.96</b>, you can have a toothpick holder that also dispenses the pick via a little ballerina who picks it up, turns, and hands it to you.</div>
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I don't care if it was designed by <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andrea_Branzi" target="_blank">Andrea Branzi</a>, who I definitely had to look up for this entry and is apparently a very big deal. Unless it involves an actual ballerina handing me a toothpick, then I'm not paying anywhere north of $5 for a toothpick holder.<br />
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7. Atlanta Falcons Superbowl LI Hoodie</h2>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jTtdJqx7UtQ/WkGcwnTIsiI/AAAAAAAAH1w/1eakwCMf5Z8iVXKN7BfPKIR-_V96lV2TgCLcBGAs/s1600/Hoodie.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jTtdJqx7UtQ/WkGcwnTIsiI/AAAAAAAAH1w/1eakwCMf5Z8iVXKN7BfPKIR-_V96lV2TgCLcBGAs/s400/Hoodie.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.nflshop.com/catalog/product/Youth_Atlanta_Falcons_NFL_Pro_Line_by_Fanatics_Branded_Red_Super_Bowl_LI_Bound_GO_Pullover_Hoodie/" target="_blank"><i>NFLShop.com</i></a></div>
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I haven't watched the NFL at all this year. And no, it's not because I'm one of those people who never cared or even payed attention to the National Anthem being performed at football games until Sean Hannity told me to. </div>
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It's because I'm an Atlanta Falcons fan.</div>
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After decades of being a league-wide laughing stock, we'd finally reached the mountain top. By the third quarter of the 2018 Super Bowl, we were ahead of the New England Patriots, a team endorsed by both Donald Trump and <a href="https://twitter.com/RichardBSpencer/status/828418037401387008?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw&ref_url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.bostonmagazine.com%2Fnews%2F2017%2F02%2F06%2Frichard-spencer-patriots-super-bowl%2F" target="_blank">America's #1 Nazi</a>, by a whopping score of 28-3.</div>
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Then the Patriots made <a href="https://www.si.com/nfl/2017/02/05/patriots-win-super-bowl-beat-falcons-largest-comeback-ever" target="_blank">the greatest comeback in Superbowl history</a>.</div>
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You know what stings even worse than the loss? It's the fact that the Patriots pulled off the impossible without the NFL's help. They won the game <b>fair and square</b>. At least if they'd had help from the refs, then we could have joined the already packed fraternity of NFL franchises that have been robbed of wins by dubious pro-Pats calls. But no, it was our team and our team alone that self destructed in such spectacular fashion.</div>
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If any of you send me this shirt, it's getting returned to you as packaging for a load of dog turds.</div>
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6. FSU vs. Southern Miss 2017 Independence Bowl Long Sleeve T-Shirt</h2>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g-Af-gH336M/WkGt_t3YlqI/AAAAAAAAH3U/8qPmT2QEZjAFoVH-x9-KewLOO1eHjCCywCLcBGAs/s1600/idbowl.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g-Af-gH336M/WkGt_t3YlqI/AAAAAAAAH3U/8qPmT2QEZjAFoVH-x9-KewLOO1eHjCCywCLcBGAs/s400/idbowl.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://shop.seminoles.com/league/College/team/Florida_State_Seminoles/category/3089/browse/featuredproduct/2998468/partnerid/6287/source/GPA-ak19kv30-florida-state-shopseminoles?sku=10309443" target="_blank"><i>shop.seminoles.com</i></a></div>
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There are a lot of reasons you probably shouldn't wear FSU football gear these days, not least of which is their <a href="https://deadspin.com/this-is-how-tallahassee-police-protect-florida-state-fo-1658901507" target="_blank">embarrassing history of having crimes covered</a> up by the Tallahassee Police Department.</div>
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But from a pure football standpoint, you really shouldn't feel good about wearing merchandise for a bowl that the NCAA maybe shouldn't even be letting the school participate in. </div>
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After starting off the year in the Top 10, FSU had what most would consider a disastrous season. Thankfully for them, they won their last three games to get to six wins, effectively keeping their historic 36-year bowl game streak alive.</div>
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Then a Reddit user discovered that their win over FCS (i.e. cupcake) school Delaware State <a href="http://www.businessinsider.com/florida-state-not-bowl-eligible-but-shhh-its-cool-2017-12" target="_blank">maybe shouldn't have counted</a>. Turns out the school hadn't used the number of athletic scholarships required to make themselves a bowl eligible lamb to the slaughter. </div>
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A few days ago, FSU responded to the findings by saying "<a href="https://twitter.com/Noles247/status/944402894765416448" target="_blank">Nu-uh, they did too,</a>" and the matter was closed.</div>
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Either way, your record is 6-6 and you're playing in a bowl game sponsored by a restaurant called 'Walk-On.' From a football standpoint, the irony is so delicious it hurts. </div>
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And yes, I realize I'm a Kentucky fan making fun of FSU football. It's 2017 and nothing is right in the world. Deal with it.</div>
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5. Funko Pop! TV Silicon Valley Erlich Vinyl Figure</h2>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oRoK9dCX5ro/WkGe8pbL9bI/AAAAAAAAH18/VsgV6XnlYAAxopLLRGNeBNBHJw1WrDQFgCLcBGAs/s1600/FunkPop.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="450" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oRoK9dCX5ro/WkGe8pbL9bI/AAAAAAAAH18/VsgV6XnlYAAxopLLRGNeBNBHJw1WrDQFgCLcBGAs/s400/FunkPop.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.walmart.com/ip/Funko-POP-TV-Silicon-Valley-Erlich-Vinyl-Figure/55528731?wmlspartner=wlpa&selectedSellerId=502&adid=22222222227071171681&wmlspartner=wmtlabs&wl0=&wl1=g&wl2=c&wl3=182260640572&wl4=pla-284200365540&wl5=9010526&wl6=&wl7=&wl8=&wl9=pla&wl10=111839881&wl11=online&wl12=55528731&wl13=&veh=sem" target="_blank"><i>Walmart.com</i></a></div>
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<i>Silicon Valley</i> is a good show. T.J. Miller, who plays character Erlich Blachman, is a funny actor. Unfortunately, he's also recently joined the growing ranks of men in Hollywood who have been <a href="https://www.thedailybeast.com/silicon-valley-star-tj-miller-accused-of-sexually-assaulting-and-punching-a-woman" target="_blank">credibly accused of sexual assault</a>.</div>
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Even if you're holding out hope that the accusations are not true, having this guy sitting on your desk at the office might not be the best look.</div>
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4. The Emoji Movie Poseable Light Up Poop 8-Inch Figure</h2>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nKbJFxoEjFE/WkGf8qSNvMI/AAAAAAAAH2E/FcpvqkhjBJoqHOYyknuoygkapMbpYVYsACLcBGAs/s1600/emojimovie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="668" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nKbJFxoEjFE/WkGf8qSNvMI/AAAAAAAAH2E/FcpvqkhjBJoqHOYyknuoygkapMbpYVYsACLcBGAs/s400/emojimovie.jpg" width="333" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://toywiz.com/"><i>Toywiz.com</i></a></div>
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First off, if really you want an 8-inch poop with a bowtie, then I'm one McRib and a trip to the fabric store away from hooking you up for free.<br />
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Also, I don't care what type of <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=why+did+patrick+stewart+do+emoji+movie&oq=why+did+patrick+stewart+do+emoji+movie&aqs=chrome..69i57.8003j0j9&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8" target="_blank">positive, jokey spin</a> he tries to put on it. There is no way Sir Patrick Stewart agreed to voice a talking poop nugget in the <i>Emoji Movie</i> without one of the three scenarios in play:</div>
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1. He needed money</div>
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2. Sony offered him millions more under the table</div>
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3. He sold his soul to the devil, who has a much darker/twisted sense of humor than we can possibly imagine.</div>
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Anyway, please don't get this for you kid. I don't care if the bowtie lights up. This gift is literally shit.<br />
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3. Cra-Z-Art Nickelodeon Neon and Glow Slime Making Kit<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wNpeEHlwaC8/WkHJMweOoYI/AAAAAAAAH3w/gfrQzXw_N343_wiD6uRv-5KWvOFWpqVPgCLcBGAs/s1600/slime.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wNpeEHlwaC8/WkHJMweOoYI/AAAAAAAAH3w/gfrQzXw_N343_wiD6uRv-5KWvOFWpqVPgCLcBGAs/s400/slime.jpg" width="332" /></a></h2>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Cra-Z-Art-Nickelodeon-Neon-Slime-Making/dp/B06XY2LVV9/ref=sr_1_3?s=toys-and-games&ie=UTF8&qid=1514260722&sr=1-3&keywords=nickelodeon+slime+kit" target="_blank"><i>Amazon.com</i></a></div>
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I'm sure we'll all make fun of the upcoming generation for plenty of things as they grow into adulthood. After all, it's a grand tradition to mock ones after you so that you can feel better about your generations own awful multitude of mistakes.</div>
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You'd figure the whole <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-08-16/global-diy-slime-craze-led-social-media-has-kids-excited-science/8812332" target="_blank">slime craze</a> would definitely be included in the list, but I disagree. Sure, it may look pointless, but so were Beanie Babies and the pet rock. And besides, this has kids actually making something on their own that is relatively inexpensive.</div>
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Still, you gotta question any slime making kit in which numerous reviews complain that it's "not sticky enough." There really can't be too many items for sale where that's considered a negative.</div>
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2. Trump Make America Great Again Red Cap Collectible Ornament</h2>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/offer-listing/B01N67D8HO/ref=dp_olp_new_mbc?ie=UTF8&condition=new" target="_blank"><i>Amazon.com</i></a></div>
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Okay, let's put aside politics for a minute. Whether you love Trump or hate him, can we all at least agree that getting a Christmas ornament as a Christmas gift sucks? </div>
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That seems like the type of thing someone should get you before the holiday, not after. It's not like you can put it on your tree on December 26. I mean, I guess you can, but I don't. It's just one more thing that might fall on the floor and end up in my dog Half Pint's poop the next day.</div>
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Circling back to politics, the lowest price I can find for this ornament is <b>$120.00</b>, which DOES NOT include free shipping. I'm also hardly the first person to point out/ridicule this item's <a href="https://www.avclub.com/amazon-reviewers-are-roasting-this-sad-maga-christmas-o-1821125285" target="_blank">ridiculously high price</a>...or the fact that it was <a href="https://www.metro.us/president-trump/trump-maga-christmas-ornament-amazon-reviews" target="_blank">made in China</a>. And unless you're the type of person who can afford a $347 yoga chair, then buying this garish dingleberry for your tree is likely to wipe out your entire GOP-structured tax savings next year.</div>
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1. USA American Flag Pants</h2>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/USA-American-Flag-Pants-Patriotic/dp/B00M3KNJZI" target="_blank"><i>Amazon.com</i></a></div>
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From Title 4 of United States Code: Respect for the flag</div>
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<a href="https://www.gpo.gov/fdsys/granule/USCODE-2011-title4/USCODE-2011-title4-chap1-sec8" target="_blank">4 U.S.C. 8 - Respect for flag</a></div>
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<i>"The flag should never be used as <b>wearing apparel</b>, bedding, or drapery. It should never be festooned, drawn back, nor up, in folds, but always allowed to fall free. Bunting of blue, white, and red, always arranged with the blue above, the white in the middle, and the red below, should be used for covering a speaker’s desk, draping the front of the platform, and for decoration in general."</i></blockquote>
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Maybe you agree with that. Maybe you don't.<br />
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Either way, unless it's for the sake of irony, you just know someone who'd actually put their butt down on a couch, seat, or even the ground while wearing these is the same type of person who gets the angriest about athletes not standing for the national anthem.<br />
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And I don't care how patriotic you are--George Washington himself couldn't make those hideous pants look good.<br />
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***</div>
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<b><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am directly, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79">on Twitter</a>.<br /> </i></b><b><i><br /></i></b><b><i>To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, another yoga chair gets exchanged for 6 weeks of Blue Apron meals.</i></b></h3>
Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-26232234412010332872017-12-23T01:16:00.000-05:002017-12-27T04:08:04.173-05:00A Letter to My Dog, Half Pint<div class="MsoNormal">
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<i>This last year may have been the worst one of my life, but at least I've got the world's two greatest dogs by my side to help me stagger into 2018. Today's post features a letter to Half Pint. Benjamin will be getting a letter later this week--he'd never let me hear the end of it, otherwise.</i><br />
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<i>Also, this posts features a lot of short video clips of Half Pint being silly. Since I apparently can't do anything right these days, they are exclusively shot in vertical mode. Please accept my apologies (and cut me some friggin' slack).</i><br />
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Dear Half Pint,<br />
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If there ever was a dog smart enough to read, it's you. That being said, I don’t think you’ll be as enraptured by this blog post as you are by <i>Game of Thrones</i> or <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BcjEcPIFhsj/?hl=en&taken-by=nicknafster79" target="_blank">commercials for the <i>Jumanji</i> sequel</a>. Still, I hope you can at least see in my heart and actions that I truly mean everything I say here.<br />
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This last year has been really tough on both of us. If I could go back in time, I’d warn myself about a lot of things 2017 would dump on our heads. What works as both as blessing and a curse for me, however, is that I have at least some understanding of why things happened. You just have to be affected by it and persevere, all without any idea what caused your world to get turned upside down again.<br />
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You’ve always been good at that, though.<br />
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I have no idea what your life was like back when your name was Tilly, Morgan, or any of the other names you’ve had over the years. My first memories of you begin around six years ago, when Neighbor Mom brought you home.</div>
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I never knew Neighbor Mom very well, but I would often see you outside in the yard playing with her son. It was clear to anyone who saw you two together that he was Your Boy. You loved him and he loved you.<br />
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Then one day, Neighbor Mom decided to take Your Boy and leave…and left you behind in the back yard.<br />
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She came back occasionally, but not until after being gone for days or even weeks at a time. After putting out a bunch of bowls filled with food and water, Neighbor Mom would turn around and leave you all by yourself again. It wasn’t long before raccoons, squirrels, and possums had eaten all your food. Any water that didn't become too dirty to drink quickly evaporated.<br />
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The other neighbors and I did our best to take care of you, although no one was more determined to see to your well being than your boyfriend, Marlin. It’s easy to see why you still love him so much. What woman wouldn’t want a man who digs a hole under his fence to pull her into his backyard so she had access to food and fresh water (or the less-weird human equivalent of that)?</div>
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Of course, it certainly helps that the dude is also total stud.<br />
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One day when Benjamin and I came to check on you, we were both surprised to find that you were gone. Part of me was sad we wouldn’t get to hang out anymore. I enjoyed our wrestling matches and watching you and Benjamin chase each other. But I also hoped that maybe Neighbor Mom had finally realized it wasn’t right to leave you alone in the backyard (or locked in the garage inside a kennel) for days on end.</div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b7vbEoYI4iI/Wj7t6zsEdSI/AAAAAAAAHwI/k4GRbw4xTF8TrfogBjxH3yVbIX5aN3m6wCLcBGAs/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-12-21%2Bat%2B2.56.04%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="593" data-original-width="596" height="198" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b7vbEoYI4iI/Wj7t6zsEdSI/AAAAAAAAHwI/k4GRbw4xTF8TrfogBjxH3yVbIX5aN3m6wCLcBGAs/s200/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-12-21%2Bat%2B2.56.04%2BPM.png" width="200" /></a>Then I found out what actually happened: Neighbor Mom took you to PETCO during an adoption event—the same one where she picked you out—and returned you like a piece of furniture she didn’t have room for in her new home. She even brought Your Boy along, who cried the whole time while having to say goodbye to you.<br />
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I asked if I could take you in, at least to foster you until another family could be found. They made me promise that if I did, I would never let Neighbor Mom get near you again. <br />
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I agreed.<br />
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***</div>
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I blame Kym at Palmetto Paws Animal Rescue for turning you into such a momma’s girl. When I arrived to pick you up to be fostered, she smiled and asked, “Are you coming to take away my dog?”<br />
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Kym went on to explain that while the other foster dogs would roam and play all over the floor, you always want to sit next to her on the couch. Maybe that’s why when I brought you to my home that first day, you immediately gravitated not towards me, but your New Mom, who wasn’t all that thrilled about us taking you in.<br />
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You certainly didn’t help things a few weeks later on the day we officially adopted you, which you celebrated by demolishing one of New Mom’s favorite/most expensive pair of shoes.<br />
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You won her over eventually, though. I won’t deny that it made me jealous sometimes, but it was pretty freaking adorable watching you follow her around everywhere like a little shadow. I think the only person in the world who loved your New Mom more than you was me.<br />
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Then a few years later, she left us both.<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ciB7G1cJesk/Wj8DVAOCHeI/AAAAAAAAHxg/jqGtZmUEtAwPlvVLG3aXi_qsTbHQ97CswCLcBGAs/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-12-23%2Bat%2B8.28.25%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="600" height="181" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ciB7G1cJesk/Wj8DVAOCHeI/AAAAAAAAHxg/jqGtZmUEtAwPlvVLG3aXi_qsTbHQ97CswCLcBGAs/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-12-23%2Bat%2B8.28.25%2BPM.png" width="320" /></a>If it makes you feel better, I wasn’t expecting it, either. You and I—along with Benjamin—were completely blindsided that night. I certainly didn’t think anything was amiss when we all watched a basketball game together the very same afternoon.<br />
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Looking back on it, I think she cuddled with you so much on the couch that day because it was her way of saying goodbye.<br />
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Later, I saw in the court papers that she'd asked for custody of your brother, but didn’t even mention you. That broke my heart. Don't get me wrong--I was certainly glad I got to keep you. And there was no way in hell I was giving up Benji, especially when that meant you two would have to be separated. Still, I knew how much it would’ve hurt for you to know that the person you loved more than anyone in the world didn’t even want you anymore.<br />
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It was a feeling I had recently and painfully become familiar with, too.<br />
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That was one of the few times I was glad you couldn’t understand things better. Thankfully, there was still time before you’d started to realize what happened. As far as you knew, New Mom had just gone on a trip for a few days. And besides, who could be sad when my mom (aka Grandma) was in town?!<br />
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You’d always liked your Grandma, but you latched onto her this time like neither of us had ever seen—even before it became clear that she would be sticking around for much longer than usual.<br />
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It wasn’t long before you decided that Grandma was there for you and not my sorry downtrodden ass. No matter what her and I did to barricade the gate to the front stairway, you’d find a way to break through and charge into guest room to sleep with her at night—even if it meant coercing Benjamin into bulldozing the way clear for you.<br />
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I was a little hurt at first, but I understood, especially after it became clear that things weren’t ever going back to how they were. You wanted a mommy—and as someone who knows <a href="http://www.ramblingbeachcat.com/2017/05/my-mom-is-awesome.html" target="_blank">how awesome of a mom your Grandma is</a>, it’s easy to understand why you bonded so closely with her. And besides, I still had your big brother Benjamin to cuddle with and keep me warm…and beg for literally all the food.<br />
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<i>"Look at this way, dad. I could eat your chips, </i></div>
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<i>or just go eat my own </i><i>poop in the backyard."</i></div>
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***<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-50ZB4FI0mtI/WkAGMthflKI/AAAAAAAAHyI/ttJCWJRE-BIkxoF4AbrXYuRMyr6Am7LDgCLcBGAs/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-12-23%2Bat%2B8.54.50%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="503" data-original-width="598" height="269" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-50ZB4FI0mtI/WkAGMthflKI/AAAAAAAAHyI/ttJCWJRE-BIkxoF4AbrXYuRMyr6Am7LDgCLcBGAs/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-12-23%2Bat%2B8.54.50%2BPM.png" width="320" /></a>On the day your Grandma left to go back to Georgia, she was devastated about what it might do to you. You may not be smart enough to understand why a person who’d stayed in our house for two months would randomly decide to go, but you damn sure knew what luggage being brought downstairs meant. She still talks about the look of hurt and betrayal you fixed her with when she leaned down to say goodbye to you.<br />
<br />
I wasn’t sure you were actually aware of things to the degree Grandma assumed until that first night after she was gone. You crawled into bed next to me, curled up into a ball, and cried…even after you fell asleep. It didn’t matter that Grandma hadn’t actually abandoned you. As far as you were concerned, she was just one more in a line of people who didn’t want to be your mommy.<br />
<br />
When my dad/your Grandpa came down a few days later, you were excited to see him, but it wasn't at all the same. You almost never tried to get upstairs to the guest room where he slept. You also moped around the house worse than you did when Marlin left after one of his visits. It took a few days before you eventually went back to being your usual mischievous self. By then, however, it had become abundantly clear you desperately wanted--and missed having--a permanent mommy.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
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One thing that helped us both through those difficult days was Your Boy and his father moving back into the neighborhood.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wXqPwXADNrI/WkAI39db-KI/AAAAAAAAHyc/pQ_UEEI3h-YPOt2ouQPbcVUjC89h5CRUACLcBGAs/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-12-24%2Bat%2B3.06.11%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="462" data-original-width="601" height="244" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wXqPwXADNrI/WkAI39db-KI/AAAAAAAAHyc/pQ_UEEI3h-YPOt2ouQPbcVUjC89h5CRUACLcBGAs/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-12-24%2Bat%2B3.06.11%2BPM.png" width="320" /></a>At first, though, I wondered if it would be too awkward—or maybe even too painful. Not only had I never really talked to Neighbor Dad, but you didn’t seem at all interested in reuniting or even interacting with Your Boy, at least for the first couple years. New Mom and I would sometimes pass him while we were walking you. He’d wave, say hello, and come over to pet you. You’d let him, but then almost immediately insist we keep going on our way.<br />
<br />
I didn’t understand back then how you could be so ambivalent toward someone you’d clearly loved before.<br />
<br />
I mean, sure, I’d seen humans do it, but you’re a dog. Undying loyalty is kind of your brand. It wasn’t until I saw how reserved you were the next time Grandma came to visit that I realized what I was seeing. It’s not just the things you do to get in trouble or fool/torment bigger dogs that make you smart—it’s your emotional intelligence, as well. You weren’t going to let someone who’d hurt you do it again. I could probably take a lesson from you on that.<br />
<br />
In this case, though, you really were being kind of an asshole. Your Boy had nothing to do with what happened—and he wasn't trying to take you away from your new home. He just really missed you and wanted to see you again.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, the complete implosion of my life that occurred after New Mom left came with some silver linings. One of them was that Neighbor Dad was there to offer support and friendship when I needed it most. He also bought a new puppy for him, his wife, and Your Boy.<br />
<br />
Although you two initially had a bit of a Pepé Le Pew dynamic going on, he eventually became one of your best friends/sparring partners.<br />
<br />
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<br />
More importantly, you slowly began to realize that Neighbor Dad and Mrs. Neighbor Dad were becoming an important part of my life…which meant it was safe for you to open your heart and become friends with Your Boy again.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dDzErEx2W4s/WkALILt_2EI/AAAAAAAAHyo/YmHElaSEp2MdJKN9UxiGLOT6qDJWAN6LwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_5016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dDzErEx2W4s/WkALILt_2EI/AAAAAAAAHyo/YmHElaSEp2MdJKN9UxiGLOT6qDJWAN6LwCLcBGAs/s200/IMG_5016.JPG" width="150" /></a>I don’t think you realize how much that means to him, by the way. For you, it’s just a really cool bonus. Whenever we go over to Neighbor Dad’s house (which is quite a bit), there’s another person there who always want to play and cuddle with you. For Your Boy, though, it means he gets to move on to a new chapter in his life while still getting to see something he misses most from the last one. You probably haven’t ever noticed this while you’re running around like a tweaking meth addict through Your Boy’s house, but if you go into his room, there’s a framed picture of you prominently displayed on his dresser. He might have a new dog now, but he never stopped loving you, even when it would have been so much easier and less painful to let go.<br />
<br />
There may be a lot of people who’ve let you down in life, but Your Boy is most definitely not one of them.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
As much pain as there’s been this past year, one of the few good things to come out of it has been watching you become the Alpha Queen of the Hamlin Dog Gang—despite being at least half the size of any of your subjects.<br />
<br />
I’ll never forget the day when Max, a 100+ lbs. German Shepard and Afghan War veteran, made the grave mistake of barking at everyone for acting too silly at a neighborhood barbeque in Neighbor Dad's backyard. Sniffing for hair trigger bombs might not have scared him, but you charging and barking right up in his grill certainly did. You actually made the poor guy cower behind his mom.<br />
<br />
Just so we’re clear on the social dynamics at play: <i><b>A dog fives times your size is more terrified of you than he was of the Taliban</b>.</i><br />
<br />
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<i>"Come at the queen then you best not miss, son..."</i><br />
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Thankfully, you never let your self-assigned duties as pack leader interfere with your ability to have a good time. While Neighbor Dad and I hung out or he helped me work through the crushing amount of anger/sadness I was experiencing, you and your crew had all types of fun acting like complete idiots.<br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<br />
And of course there was your boyfriend Marlin, who I made sure you got to see as much as possible. Whether it was cuddling together...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<br />
...or kicking his ass...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
...it was clear that getting to spend so much time with him made you all types of happy.<br />
<br />
Watching you and your brother having fun that summer was one of the only things that made me happy back then, too.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
<br />
A few months ago, your dad made a New Friend. At the time, she seemed all kinds of amazing. So amazing, in fact, that despite how hard the last year had been, your dad got to be happier for a while than he’d been in a very, very long time.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VptOlUXOlf0/WkHhLx8-8II/AAAAAAAAH4A/LgczWqqvb2EseKjF8GmDRCvtrST24QCVQCLcBGAs/s1600/FullSizeRender%2B%25289%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="813" data-original-width="1079" height="241" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VptOlUXOlf0/WkHhLx8-8II/AAAAAAAAH4A/LgczWqqvb2EseKjF8GmDRCvtrST24QCVQCLcBGAs/s320/FullSizeRender%2B%25289%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a>It’s clear now that there was a lot I didn’t know or understand about my New Friend, although I'm not sure it would have changed anything. Hell, I'll cop to still missing her like crazy sometimes even after the things she did.<br />
<br />
In my defense, though, you and I were definitely on the same wavelength about her at first. When you two met, she somehow bypassed the probationary standoffish period you normally imposed on people and was immediately claimed as your new best friend.<br />
<br />
You know that stupid thing us humans do where we try getting dogs to react/respond to someone on the phone? Well, it actually worked on you when Dad’s New Friend called. Maybe it was you responding to my happy change in demeanor. Or maybe it was way she’d almost sing the word “Hi” in that beautiful voice of hers. But whenever her voice came through over FaceTime or speakerphone, you went on full alert, ears twitching and tail wagging in eager synchronization.<br />
<br />
Even her scent drove you nuts. When I would come home from seeing her, you sniffed me like a drug dog going through student lockers during finals week. Just a couple days ago, I randomly found yet another thing she left over here at house. After I put it down and came back, you'd stretched yourself across it like the world's most adorably unintimidating guard dog.<br />
<br />
But none of that even compared to the absolute pandemonium that occurred when she came over to the house. You spazzed out worse than your brother, which is really saying something. I won’t tell Marlin, but you got even more excited for Dad’s New Friend than you do for his visits.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-size: medium;">(...although to be fair, she never stole your toys).</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
And then there was the cuddling. I’d always assumed you cuddled with me based on if you felt the need for space or not—something I could definitely understand and respect. With Dad’s New Friend, however, you turned into a furry, beady-eyed parasite that was permanently attached to her hip.<br />
<br />
Although it was strange to see you take to someone so quickly, it was also pretty freaking adorable…except when Dad and his New Friend wanted some alone time. And don’t try to pull that “<i>Oh, I’m just an innocent and simple little dog who doesn’t know any better</i>” act. You knew exactly what you were doing.<br />
<br />
Still, it was hard to stay mad at you, especially when you would jump on her lap and puff your little chest out at me with a look that all but screamed, “This is MY friend!”<br />
<br />
About the only thing cuter was watching you interact with my New Friend’s daughter, <b>C</b>.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9nhHwV37aRM/WkARY1dtYrI/AAAAAAAAHzI/jwpVLZUoCi0iXjGgIaRiGDVqvqWt7KzHACLcBGAs/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-12-23%2Bat%2B8.34.23%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="590" data-original-width="481" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9nhHwV37aRM/WkARY1dtYrI/AAAAAAAAHzI/jwpVLZUoCi0iXjGgIaRiGDVqvqWt7KzHACLcBGAs/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-12-23%2Bat%2B8.34.23%2BPM.png" width="259" /></a>Even though you only got to hang out with her a couple times, you were clearly as smitten with <b>C</b> as she was with you. I know neither one of us are a typically big fans of little kids, but I think we can both agree that <b>C </b>had us both wrapped around her finger since that first day together at the dog park.<br />
<br />
I’m not sure what did it for you. Maybe it was simply because you could tell she was related to Dad’s New Friend. Or perhaps it was your shared obsession with watching my pet lizards hide from you in their terrariums. I personally think it was at least in part because you both share similar scars on your hearts.<br />
<br />
While <b>C</b>’s parents certainly didn’t abandon her, they did have a very contentious and ugly split. This left the poor girl caught between them both—one week at his house, the other with her. <b>C </b>dearly loved both parents, who now completely hated each other. She also still yearned for a united home that was tragically and irreparably broken. That’s more than enough to upset any kid, but it’s especially hard for one as smart, intuitive, and emotionally attuned as her.<br />
<br />
She never allowed any of that to that make her jaded, though. I’ll never forget how on the day we met, <b>C</b> begged me to buy a ticket for you to run the lure track at the dog park. The sound of her laughing as you darted around in circles is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard in my life.<br />
<br />
Observing you and <b>C</b> interact together is one of the many reasons I will always have a special place in my heart for that little girl. Even when you include the thousands upon thousands of students I’ve taught, she is still by far the greatest kid whose life I’ve gotten to be a part of. Dad’s New Friend might not be around anymore, but <b>C</b>’s impact will never be forgotten.<br />
<br />
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Because of her, I went from never being all that interested in having children to seriously wanting to start a family of my own some day. Maybe if your dad can actually get his shit together and stop being attracted to walking time bombs, you might get to have another Boy or Girl to call your own.<br />
<br />
Speaking of that, I’m really sorry about my New Friend going away all of a sudden. If it makes you feel better, I didn’t see it coming this time, either. That appears to be something of a trend with me. Kind of hard to make fun of your brother for eating his own poop when I’m too stupid to learn from my own mistakes, either.<br />
<br />
Here are just a few of the nuggets of turd/wisdom I ingested this time around:<br />
<br />
<b>1.</b> Just because a New Friend tells you intensely personal details about her life, has you spend lots of time around her wonderful daughter, and says she “trusts you completely” does not, in fact, mean that she trusts you. At all.<br />
<br />
<b>2.</b> When a New Friend says how much better you are than everyone else she’s been with—and that she has a long history of awful relationships—you should never discount the Taylor Swift factor (i.e. it might not all be as one-sided as she makes it sound…and you very well could be next).<br />
<br />
<b>3. </b>Never assume that grace works like an equivalent currency. Even if you have to take care of your New Friend when she gets black out drunk (including the night before you have an early morning meeting), be cool when she throws up on you hours after eating (but apparently not digesting) Taco Bell, or let it slide when she tells her best friend incredibly personal information about you (before you even meet her), that is absolutely no guarantee your first mistake—no matter how well intentioned—will be forgiven in kind.<br />
<br />
<b>4.</b> Once she is committed to being angry with you, a New Friend may be willing to make up other things you never actually did—some of it so outrageous/untrue that it demonstrates a Trump-like level of disconnect from reality (see: Turd Nugget #2).<br />
<br />
<b>5. </b>Don’t let a New Friend break up with you before she actually follows through on her promise to have your car professionally cleaned after she puked all over the inside of it.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YjDCRgGDsds/WkAV2DZMb4I/AAAAAAAAHzk/4EmJbGk4J985Qal7LZghzVCFBa-nS22qQCLcBGAs/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-12-24%2Bat%2B4.01.45%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="463" data-original-width="599" height="244" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YjDCRgGDsds/WkAV2DZMb4I/AAAAAAAAHzk/4EmJbGk4J985Qal7LZghzVCFBa-nS22qQCLcBGAs/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-12-24%2Bat%2B4.01.45%2BPM.png" width="320" /></a>I know most of this doesn’t help you specifically, but I’d at least like to directly apologize about that last part. We may have our disagreements sometimes, but you’ve never puked (or pooped or peed) in the passenger seat during one of our many road trips.<br />
<br />
What I’m really sorry for, however, is that you'll once again never understand why a person you took to so well doesn’t come around anymore. I know it hurts. It hurt me a lot, too.<br />
<br />
But if you really want to feel bad for someone, it should be <b>C</b>. That poor little girl is already in therapy dealing with her parents divorce. Then I got introduced into the picture, bonded with her far more than even I expected, and was suddenly erased from her life without warning or explanation. That’s not the type of thing that happens without leaving some type of emotional scar on a kid.<br />
<br />
At least you’re older and tougher…and a dog. Still, that doesn’t discount the pain Dad’s New Friend leaving must have caused you to feel, too.<br />
<br />
I’ll never forget the time I explained your history while you pressed up against her and she scratched behind your ears.<br />
<br />
“<b><span style="color: #990000;">Poor little Pint</span>,</b>” my New Friend cooed. “<span style="color: #990000;"><b>I’ll be your mommy.</b></span>”<br />
<br />
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At hearing that, you puffed out your chest and made what was quite possibly the loudest yawn of happiness/contentment I’ve ever heard from you.<br />
<br />
I know it’s ridiculous to think you understand English...but just in case you do, I hope you also understand that words aren’t things you can always trust.<br />
<br />
Sometimes people say important-sounding things just to get other people (and dogs) to like them more. It’s one of the many hurtful and stupid things my species likes to do to each other for some reason.<br />
<br />
<br />
Looking back on it now, I don’t think Dad’s New Friend meant a lot of the words she said to either one of us.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
<br />
And now we finally arrive at the main reason for this letter. Not just to tell everyone what an awesome and resilient little friend you are—or to let Dad work through his own personal issues through your pint-sized lens.<br />
<br />
It’s to say I’m sorry.<br />
<br />
I’m sorry I haven’t been the daddy you deserve the last couple months. I know it takes more than just feeding you, letting you out, and making sure you’re healthy. I also need to pay attention to you, play with you, and talk with you. I need to take you and your brother to the dog park and the beach. I need to take you over to your friends’ houses and set up play dates with your boyfriend.<br />
<br />
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I need to exercise out in the garage on the elliptical so that you can watch the lizards in their terrariums. I need to start cooking again so that I’ll drop delicious ingredients on the floor for you and your brother to scarf up. I need do more work in the backyard so that you and your brother can come outside with me and search for all the places you haven’t marked yet.<br />
<br />
Instead, I’ve made a habit lately of coming home, staring at the ceiling (or crying for a while), and then going to sleep. <br />
<br />
Weekends have been even worse. After you and Benjamin manage to get me out of bed to get breakfast, I can barely be bothered to do more than go back and lay down for the rest of the day. You’d figure that paralyzing, existential dread would at least give me a good excuse to catch up on my reading and TV shows, but I often can’t muster the interest to even do that.<br />
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Some of my behavior is due to me feeling truly exhausted. This time of year is stressful enough without the added burdens of heartbreak and depression. But after how brutal the rest of 2017 has been, I sometimes get home from work and it feels like I can't even move. Or breathe<br />
<br />
Good lord that sounds melodramatic. I wish it weren't true. There are people out there dealing with way worse stuff than I am. And no matter how bad it gets for me, I still have all sorts of human comforts to numb the resulting pain. Reading, Netflix, internet, writing long-winded blogs about my dog, etc.<br />
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Not you, though.<br />
<br />
While I'm at school, all you have is your brother and an empty house. When I get home, I'm all both of you have in the whole world. And I am failing.<br />
<br />
That's a very hard thing to come to terms with, especially when you consider that the only real requirement you have of me is that I be present. Even though I'm not the mommy you've always wanted...or the impossibly handsome labrador who pulled you into his yard to make sure you could survive...you're still all types of happy to see me whenever my mopey ass comes home, even if it's only for a few minutes.<br />
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People can say it's because you're "just a dog" or you don't know any better, but those people don't know how smart you are. They also haven't seen how sad you get when bad stuff has happened to you before.</div>
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Or they're just assholes.</div>
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Whatever the case, you sure as heck haven't given up on me yet. I mean, yeah, I'm the one who feeds you and takes you out, so there's a definite incentive for you to be nice to me. But I also don't think it's an accident you've been extra cuddly lately and even more insistent than usual that I pay attention to you.<br />
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You may be one of the most devious and judgmental dogs this side of a cat, but even when I'm routinely at my worst, you're still there for me every single day. Considering that I don't even like myself right now, that means a lot. Honestly, there are times when it feels like you and Benjamin are the only thing keeping me going from one day to the next.<br />
<br />
So here's what I'm going to do. For the first time I can remember, I'm going to be one of those annoying people who actually makes a New Year's resolution.<br />
<br />
Never mind the fact that I've been operating on a school calendar schedule for literally almost my entire life--and January 1 is really just the halfway point. Never mind my firm/cynical stance that December 31 to January 1 is no different than any other metamorphosis of yesterday into tomorrow. When 2018 begins, I'd bet good money that I'll still feel as depressed and hopeless as I did on the last day of 2017.<br />
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But that doesn't mean I have to let it affect you and your brother anymore.<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cRzqCYeNZ_k/WkHibEhDIYI/AAAAAAAAH4I/bgT89mompA4nryh7Oyc-TvgmFseAcDd6wCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_3863.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cRzqCYeNZ_k/WkHibEhDIYI/AAAAAAAAH4I/bgT89mompA4nryh7Oyc-TvgmFseAcDd6wCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_3863.JPG" width="240" /></a>It doesn't matter if I want to retreat inside myself when I come home. My job doesn't end with giving you food, water, medicine, and opportunities to relieve yourselves outside. You also deserve my attention and affection every day.<br />
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It doesn't matter if I don't feel like exercising (or understand why you and your brother think hanging out in the garage is the coolest thing ever). It makes you happy and it's good for me, so I'm going to do it. Same with working out in the yard or randomly deciding that we're all going to run in circles around the kitchen counter.<br />
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And maybe eating the ingredients I drop on the floor isn't exactly healthy, but I'm going to start cooking again too because we all enjoyed that.<br />
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We'll start going on adventures again to the dog park and the beach. Maybe not a lot at first, but as much as I can right now. I'll take you over to Neighbor Dad's house so you can play with your friend and Your Boy and I can be around good people instead of stuck inside my own thoughts. I'll also try to have friends come over again more, especially if they bring their dogs who are three or four times your size. In addition to how much you enjoy the company, I get a kick out of watching you establish your pint-sized dominance over everyone.<br />
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I'll talk to you more. I know you can't understand me...or I'm pretty sure you can't, at least...but you always wag your tail like crazy when I tell you how much I love you and what a wonderful dog you are.<br />
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But don't think this is all going to be good stuff, though. I will continue to refer to you by the many embarrassing nicknames I and my family/friends have come up with for you, including but not limited to:<br />
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- Kim Jung Pint<br />
- Pintatron<br />
- Pintnado<br />
- Pinty McPinterton<br />
- Pinto Bean<br />
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I also plan to do things that drive you a little crazy, like dressing you up in silly outfits during the holidays...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-size: medium;">Behold, the Pinty Elf</i></td></tr>
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<i>...</i>or making you do that ridiculous growl of yours.</div>
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I have no doubt you'll find a way to get back at me, too. As wonderful a dog as you are, you're also a little too smart for your own good sometimes. But that's just one of the many reasons I love you so much. </div>
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We may have our disagreements from time to time...</div>
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<i>...</i>but I wouldn't change a thing about you. We've both been let down in some pretty big ways by people we thought loved us, but we haven't ever given up on each other. I know that won't change on my end. I'd bet my life it won't change on yours either.</div>
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Back on January 1 of 2017, neither one of us had any idea what was coming. Let's hope that's true for 2018, but from the opposite end of the spectrum. No matter what the next year throws at us, though, I'm all types of lucky to have you and your brother here to go through it with me.<br />
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<b><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am directly, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background: transparent; color: #0a299c; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">on Twitter</a>.</i></b></h3>
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<b style="font-family: "times new roman", times, freeserif, serif;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<b><i>To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="background: transparent; color: #0a299c; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, Half Pint steals another one of my sandwiches off the dining room table.</i></b></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-18250857781642793502017-09-24T14:16:00.000-04:002017-12-25T19:44:07.254-05:00Short Story Sunday: Night Song<div style="text-align: center;">
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<i>Every Sunday (okay...most Sundays), I will post a short story for your enjoyment and/or derision. All feedback is welcome and appreciated.</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">For Madeline, there was no better therapy after a long day than running through her neighborhood’s nature trail, especially at night. A moonlit sky, soft earth beneath her shoes, and the chorus of insects and swamp creatures filling the crisp autumn air calmed her nerves better than any glass of wine ever could.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She knew that jogging alone after dark wasn’t the safest activity she could choose, but it was something she'd never felt safe doing back in the city. Now that she’d made enough money to move out to the suburbs, however, the risk of being mugged was significantly less. In fact, the only other people she ever seemed to encounter were neighborhood teenagers clumsily making out with each other by the dock.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Madeline still kept her eyes and ears open, though, as much for her own protection as to take in the beautiful night song that nature seemed to be singing just for her. The harsher chills of fall didn’t hit the coast of South Carolina until much later than most areas, meaning that the insects and creatures normally driven into hibernation or death by winter’s preamble were still alive and well. Frogs croaked, crickets chirped, and cicadas did…whatever they did…all coming together to create a symphony far more beautiful than anything on her iPod. The only sound bold enough to intrude upon their performance was the rhythmic crunching of her shoes over the gravel-lined trail. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The mix of endorphins and natural beauty had made her nightly runs a ritual of serenity she rarely missed. But now, with the southern-tempered fall season, it was like a full recharge for her soul. The pulse of the forested swamp and the perfectly cool-but-not-too-cold air breathed much needed life into her spirit after hours of staring at a computer screen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">So when the night creatures’ performance came to a sudden and jarring halt, the silence caused Madeline to freeze in the middle of the trail.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What the hell?” she whispered, peering back into forest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Madeline waited a moment before gingerly moving her left foot in front of her right. As if in response, a lone cicada called out before quickly going silent again. She waited for another chirp to signal that everything was back to how it should be, but the only rival to the alien and unsettling silence was the beating of her own heart inside her ears. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">After waiting a few more seconds, Madeline began to move forward again, measuring each step while shifting her eyes from one side of the trail to the other.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“This is stupid,” she thought, painfully aware of how loud the crunching gravel beneath her shoes had become. “Just because the critters went mute doesn’t mean I have to be quiet.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Madeline stooped over, picked up a nearby rock, and tossed it back in the direction from which she’d come. After the stone skipped into the woods, she was answered by nothing more than continued silence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Okay, I’m not the damn Orkin Man!” Madeline bellowed at the empty path behind her. “You guys don’t have to stop your conversations on account of me walking through your turf!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Madeline chuckled to herself, amused and a bit embarrassed at her attempt to engage insects and amphibians in confrontational dialogue. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Guess it’s going to be a few cold ones and a movie tonight,” she whispered. “This stroll through the woods just went from relaxing to all types of creepy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">After throwing another rock down the path for good measure, Madeline began jogging at a much brisker pace in the opposite direction. Before the inexplicable silence had descended upon her, she’d nearly made it to the end of the trail. Fortunately, it still wouldn’t take very long for her to get back home from there. The path led through more wooded areas before opening onto a bridge that crossed a large creek running through the neighborhood. After that, it was less than a mile of well-lit and unwooded lawns to reach the welcome safety of her home. It was strange to think of her nightly jogging path as something to be scared of, but the purposeful silence in the air that evening was more than a little unsettling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">As she neared one of the trail’s intersections, the sudden chirping of a lone cricket caught Madeline by surprise. She attempted to turn towards where the sound came from, but more chirping immediately added to the first one, this time from all directions. Before she could turn back to where she’d been facing, the cicadas and frogs joined in, as well. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">At first, the returning sounds brought a welcome wave of reassurance. The night song of the swamp creatures had begun again, reducing their brief silence to an inexplicable anomaly. But as their song continued, it grew much louder than she’d ever heard before. After a few moments, the familiar, soothing cadence morphed into an almost physical presence, pushing in on her so hard that it became difficult to breathe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Madeline clutched her hands to her head and continued jogging, then sprinting towards the creek bridge. Behind her, the ground felt as if it were actually shaking from massive wave of sound, turning into something much more tactile and close. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.3in;">The crunching gravel under Madeline’s feet was muted now, its rhythmic grinding washed away in a sea of agitated croaks and chirps. The night song's volume became so powerful that even the sound of her heart beating inside her ears disappeared. All Madeline could hear now was the relentless buzz of life that seemed to be closing in on her with every passing second.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Realizing that her hands were doing nothing to dissipate the noise, Madeline pulled them away from her ears and focused all of her attention on running. The shaking ground beneath her feet was making it difficult to keep her balance. When she stumbled and nearly fell into the dirt, something that looked like a long, hair-covered arm flashed by her right shoulder. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.3in;">Madeline's brain didn’t have time to process what the appendage had been connected to, but something primal and terrified inside of her instantly concluded that the entity was not human. Perhaps it was the abnormally fast speed with which it shot towards her shoulder—or maybe it was because the hand which she momentarily glimpsed had only three fingers, each with a thin black claw extending out from it. But Madeline did not have the current capacity or focus to process what was chasing her. All that mattered was getting out of the woods and back towards in the light.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">As she rounded the last turn before the bridge, the chirping and croaking became so oppressive that it felt made her ears feel as if they were bleeding. Something warm and hungry began to breath down her neck. The night song was in sync with whatever it was pursing her, pulsating in time with the hot gusts of air that rhythmically blew her hair forward and in front of her face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">For the briefest of moments, Madeline decided to give up. The hot breath on the back of her neck was joined by something tacky and wet, dotting her elbows and stringing onto her waist. It burned, but not like fire or acid. The heat enveloping her was fatigue, radiating over her entire body like a drug that wanted to pull her mind under her fear and into a starless abyss. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Just when Madeline legs began to give out, the crunching gravel beneath her feet was replaced by loud clacks as her shoes smacked across a wooden bridge. The sudden change in noise awoke something inside her. She was so close--just a few yards from being out of the woods and into the neighborhood. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.3in;">Madeline pushed towards the brightly lit street ahead. She wasn’t sure why her mind had convinced itself that being among the other houses would lead to safety, but her legs refused to entertain the debate, pumping with all their might in a desperate bid to flee the woods.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">As she neared the end of the bridge, something wet snapped against the side of Madeline’s left cheek while an insect-like appendage began to wrap itself around her stomach. Bristling fibers grazed back and forth along her back, moving in manic synchronicity with the night song that now dominated the air. As the fibers got closer, something with the texture of moist leather clamped onto Madeline’s shoulder, pushing her down while simultaneously pulling with all its might to pull her back. Madeline gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and pushed even harder towards the tree line. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The sound of wooden bridge gave way once again to gravel, the trail finally depositing her between two houses that ran up against the property line next to the neighborhood club house. As the nearby refuge of street lights blurred in a wash of sweat and tears, the sensation of countless tiny legs exploded across Madeline's back. After letting out a desperate gasp, she pushed the sensation to the back of her mind and sprinted past the final tree before diving toward the first street light. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.3in;">After a hard landing onto a freshly cut lawn, she immediately jumped back up and prepared to scream with whatever voice she had left--or to fight. But when Madeline whipped around to face the trail , there was nothing there but empty woods and deafening silence. No cicadas, no crickets, no frogs, and nothing trying to run her down. All that remained of her horrifying pursuit was the beautiful fall night and the manic beating of her heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Madeline immediately pulled out her phone and dialed 911. She breathlessly explained to the dispatcher that “someone was chasing me through the Hamlin Subdivision nature trail,” even though her description didn’t come to close to portraying what she’d actually experienced. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.3in;">After giving the dispatcher the address of the house in front of her, Madeline hung up and ran towards it. Despite being more scared than she’d ever been in her life, a small part of her was still embarrassed about knocking on a neighbor’s door (and one she had never met, no less) a little after 10:00 PM.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But when a kind and concerned looking woman greeted her, Madeline instantly burst into tears. This brought the woman’s husband and two children rushing to the door, as well. The entire family took her into the kitchen, where she was provided with a blanket and a glass of water. Through violent sobs and sips, she told them with the most believable version of her story that she could come up with on the spot. There was no mention of the night creature’s cacophony of angry sounds, nor did she mention how the thing that had been chasing her was almost assuredly not human. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">As the evening wore on, Madeline’s confusion over what she’d experienced slowly turned into genuine skepticism. She knew that something had been chasing her, but maybe it really was just ‘some psycho drugged out of his mind’ like the father had suggested. When the police arrived, she gave them the same story she’d told to the family, once again omitting any mention of night creatures or an inhuman pursuer. She</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"> stayed up with the family a while, telling them about herself and where she was from. The children instantly latched on to her, their adoration laser focused on the person who’d given them an excuse to stay up late on a school night. Once the police left and she’d calmed down a bit, the mother gave Madeline a ride home along with her phone number, earnestly requesting that she call if any sort of threat (or even simply the specter of fear) made her unable to remain inside her own home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">After giving the woman and hug and heading inside, Madeline began to feel the full emotional and physical toll of that night’s events. She decided to forgo her nightly shower, figuring that having to wake up a few minutes earlier for work and washing her current bed sheets was a perfectly fair price to pay for immediate rest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Before allowing her eyes to close and letting the world to fade, however, she decided to call her best friend, Mandy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wasn’t sure why; it wasn’t like she could explain to her what happened any better than she’d be able to for the family or the police. But the desire to reach out to someone she could trust was urgent enough that even her extreme exhaustion couldn’t fight it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Maddy?” Mandy asked after picking up the phone on the second ring. “Why the hell are you calling me at 1:15 in the morning?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Cause I knew you’d be up,” Madeline responded, much more tersely than she’d intended.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well excuse me for not having a job like yours where I’d have to be there at 7:00 AM,” Mandy shot back. “And it’s not like I go out drinking every night. Sometimes it’s fun to just stay in and binge some Netflix.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I got attacked tonight, Mandy,” Madeline blurted out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Holy crap Mads, are you alright?” Mandy asked, her voice now filled with concern.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yeah, I’m fine. Some psycho chased me through the nature trail during my nightly walk. I got away from him though.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Why didn’t you just kick his ass like that one guy downtown from a few years ago?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Madeline paused for a moment, considering the possibility of telling her most trusted friend in the world what she’d been through that evening—and if she would even be willing to believe her. “My mind just wasn’t in that mode. I think he might have had a weapon on him or something, anyway, so I just got the hell out of there as fast as I could.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The rest of the conversation involved more questions (“What did he look like?”, “Did he say anything?”, etc.) that Madeline quickly deflected. It made her feel terrible to lie like that, but even if telling the truth was an option, she only had a vague idea of what the “truth” actually was, anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Hey Mandy, I’ve got a weird question,” Madeline said before hanging up for the night. “Did the insects and frogs tonight sound really loud to you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I guess,” Mandy replied. “No louder than usual, though. Why do you ask?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No reason,” Madeline said after a moment. “I guess everything just seems louder when you’re running for your life from a maniac.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">After promising to call Mandy first thing when she got up in the morning, Madeline put the phone down and peeled off her sweat soaked clothes. After tossing them haphazardly onto the floor, she climbed into bed and pulled the sheets up around her, letting the sound of them sliding against her skin melt her consciousness into a blissful state of exhaustion-fueled slumber. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.3in;">But just before her eyes could flutter into a deep sleep, something outside her bedroom window grabbed what little of her waking attention remained. The street light that stood on the corner of her street had gone out, plunging the world around her into night’s natural darkness. The augmented blackness was almost immediately followed by a small chirping sound.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Madeline’s eyes popped open as a multitude of croaks and chirps grew in volume, slowly surrounding her home…<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a class="gie-single" href="http://www.gettyimages.com/detail/589167049" id="J5fBpDzLRit6FcK5WMX2cw" style="border: none; color: #a7a7a7; display: inline-block; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Embed from Getty Images</a><script>window.gie=window.gie||function(c){(gie.q=gie.q||[]).push(c)};gie(function(){gie.widgets.load({id:'J5fBpDzLRit6FcK5WMX2cw',sig:'76wDS7xNGBwttRFqEhkfRXl3AXvZvnr3R1DqUts3Nmo=',w:'480px',h:'360px',items:'589167049',caption: true ,tld:'com',is360: false })});</script><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embed-cdn.gettyimages.com/widgets.js"></script></div>
Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-68907809678776669592017-06-18T12:48:00.000-04:002017-12-25T19:44:28.473-05:00My Dad is Awesome<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eclUHf6kBj4/WUWGrpJrZbI/AAAAAAAAHjU/rANkqfnAlBkU9F7lMrXKPywpf0PvXhiGACLcBGAs/s1600/DadCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1200" height="336" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eclUHf6kBj4/WUWGrpJrZbI/AAAAAAAAHjU/rANkqfnAlBkU9F7lMrXKPywpf0PvXhiGACLcBGAs/s640/DadCover.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">As some of you know (or have inferred), the last couple months have
been pretty rough. Thankfully, God blessed me with a wonderful mother and
father who’ve both put me on their shoulders while helping me to push through it.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">As bad as the timing of my life implosion was (i.e. the week before
State Concert Festival), it did give me the benefit of having both Mother’s Day
and Father’s Day to reflect and publically thank them on this here blog page. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’ve already <a href="http://www.ramblingbeachcat.com/2017/05/my-mom-is-awesome.html" target="_blank">gushed about how awesome my mom is.</a> Today, it’s all about Dad.</i></div>
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<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
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Going through elementary, middle,
and high school, I played on a team in my church’s youth basketball league.
This was for a couple reasons:<o:p></o:p></div>
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- I loved basketball.<o:p></o:p></div>
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- I wasn’t good enough to make
the high school team.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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That being said, there were quite
a few good players in the league every year, including kids who actually DID
make the JV/Varsity school teams. We also had a head coach and assistant coach
who were fairly knowledgeable about player development and X’s and O’s…</div>
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<br /></div>
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…and then there was my dad, who once
described his primary coaching duties as “grabbing rebounds and passing the
ball back out.” He’d played neighborhood basketball as a kid, but didn’t have
any formal/organized background with the game. His only reason for signing on
as a second assistant was to be involved in something I was doing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Then, one fateful day, both
coaches above him realized they had to be out of town for one of our practices along with
game that followed it. When they told my dad about this, he politely explained that he had
absolutely no idea how to coach a basketball team or draw up plays (never mind
the fact that the team in question was filled with hormonal/unruly preteen
boys). The coaches responded by informing him that if he didn’t at least step
in as coach for the game, we would forfeit.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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As you can probably guess, Dad
wasn’t about to let that happen.<o:p></o:p></div>
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That night, he went home, popped
in our VHS tape of <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoosiers" target="_blank">Hoosiers</a></i>, and proceeded to take copious notes as Gene Hackman ran a bunch
of actors through 1950’s era basketball drills. The night of our practice, he
ran us through those same drills at a blistering pace. When one of the players complained
that doing drills wasn’t as fun as scrimmaging (which normally took up the the bulk of
our time), my dad gave the exact the same response
Gene Hackman did to the little snot who made the same complaint in <i>Hoosiers</i>. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WEYMBKD5rh0/WUWHYPSwVXI/AAAAAAAAHjc/DleWp03UzAQf2VHqeXgAOBkWJopaVA3SACLcBGAs/s1600/Dad2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="321" data-original-width="599" height="212" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WEYMBKD5rh0/WUWHYPSwVXI/AAAAAAAAHjc/DleWp03UzAQf2VHqeXgAOBkWJopaVA3SACLcBGAs/s400/Dad2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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He didn’t scream (like Hackman
did). He also didn’t cuss or insult anyone (also like Hackman did). What he did do
was refuse to let us devolve into our usual half-assed shenanigans. It was by
far the hardest—and best—practice of the year. Parents sitting in the stands actually put down their books and watched in disbelief as their children
showed remarkable mental and physical focus long after their respective
medicines had worn off.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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That weekend, we played one of
the best teams in the league...and absolutely wiped the floor with them. Our
group of mediocre ballplayers knifed through our opponent with cold,
near-surgical efficiency (as much as can be expected from 12-year-olds,
anyway).<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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When the other coaches returned, they
couldn’t believe how well things had gone. They also joked that my dad had been
holding out on them about his secret coaching skills. In reality, he was simply
doing what he’d done his entire life: Relentlessly adjust to any obstacle
until success is achieved. It’s a mentality he's always tried to impart on
me—not through shouting or pushing too hard, but by never losing faith in
what’s possible if you care about something enough to put your heart into it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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***<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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When my father was little, his
mother (my yia yia) sent him to school without being able to speak any English.
When the school called to inform her that this would be a major issue, her
response was “I taught him to speak Greek, you teach him to speak English”
followed by the click of the phone hanging up.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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From there, my father somehow
managed to successfully master both the English language and the American school system.
After graduating high school, he went on to the prestigious Carnegie Mellon University. From graduating from there, he attended George Washington University for law school, which he graduated from with honors. This led him into a career as a legendary prosecuting attorney for the now
defunct Interstate Commerce Commission.<br />
<br />
In his “spare” time, he also ran a
large portion of a family real estate business and managed his own stock
portfolio along with those of many of our family members. He’s one of those no
nonsense type of people who is objectively smarter than most and will handily
outwork the rest.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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And then there was me—his
slightly neurotic, definitively right brained son. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mhQo3id5ktM/WUWKEabAc0I/AAAAAAAAHjo/7Fe_D0DABoYwPfwTqu1mNL0kgKW8t0gqwCLcBGAs/s1600/Dad4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="736" data-original-width="736" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mhQo3id5ktM/WUWKEabAc0I/AAAAAAAAHjo/7Fe_D0DABoYwPfwTqu1mNL0kgKW8t0gqwCLcBGAs/s400/Dad4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The left side is grey because its dead from lack of use.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">n addition to being the poster
child for why Attention Deficient Disorder is a real thing, I could be (and
still often am) frustratingly disorganized. I was also the type of kid who didn’t
enjoy subjects like math, preferring instead to focus my academic efforts on
writing stories or learning to play an instrument. And when it came to time management, I would often fail to realize the folly of focusing on one minor/shiny detail until it was at least fifteen minutes too late.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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If this were a Hallmark movie, my dad and I would have been written to be comically tragic antagonists
with each other. But to my great benefit and enjoyment, we’ve always had a
great relationship. Part of this is due to our many shared interests that I
talked about in my last blog post. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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If it’s scary or features some
type of grotesque monster, we’re all in. If it’s food that can be grilled
and/or a breakfast buffet, we will devour it. Give us a heavily modified
paintball gun and a wooded battled field and we’re in heaven*<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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*<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Side note: At almost 70 years old, my dad takes out opponents on the
paintball field at a level that is simultaneously impressive, inspiring, and
disturbing.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scontent.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/1909987_527230798220_7091_n.jpg?oh=0a4e11b066fbf5dd8a66a7f8b288ebba&oe=599B98D3" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="452" data-original-width="604" height="298" src="https://scontent.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/1909987_527230798220_7091_n.jpg?oh=0a4e11b066fbf5dd8a66a7f8b288ebba&oe=599B98D3" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even when he was still using rental equipment and rocking a <br />
purple sweatshirt, my dad's opponents were dropping like flies.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
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And pray you are never in the
room when he and I decide to start ragging on someone. My mom can attest to
this. One time, she made the mistake of describing our shared
behavior/immaturity at dinner one night with one of her fancy psychology terms.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Our response: <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<u>Me</u>: “Mom, I believe you
are exhibiting symptoms of the disorder known as <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">badus moodus</b>.”</blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<o:p> </o:p><u>Dad</u>: “Actually son, the
correct way to say that disorder’s Latin name would be <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">moodus badus</b>.”</blockquote>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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That was almost 20 years ago and
we still haven’t let it die.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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But aside from all that fun
stuff, my dad also utilized his ‘Adjust Until Success is Achieved’ mentally on
my varied/artistic interests--along with<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> being a great father.</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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When it became clear that I loved
high school band—something my dad had virtually no knowledge of or experience
with—it wasn’t enough for him to simply go to concerts/games and support me
with silent observation. If I was all in on this, then he going to be, too. In
addition to his constant support and encouragement, he also joined the
equipment crew, going from “just a grunt” to heading up the team. In fact, he
ended up staying on a year after I graduated to help guide and train a large
incoming class of new equipment crew parents.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
When I fell in love with writing, he helped provide feedback on my short stories while also proving to be an amazing/knowledgable source of various horror media I should be reading and watching.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
When I was offered a scholarship
to the University of Kentucky, (a school neither my family nor me had on the
radar until halfway through my senior year of high school), he drove me
straight from an honor band concert through the night (in the snow) to my
scholarship audition. When I got the scholarship (and subsequently decided to
go to school 360 miles away from home), he became a full-fledged UK Wildcat,
living and dying with the sports teams right along with me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2f13yq12csmv2yraq925m73i.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/We-Believe-No-You-Dont-MEME.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2f13yq12csmv2yraq925m73i.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/We-Believe-No-You-Dont-MEME.jpg" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="488" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Being a Kentucky Football fan isn't <br />
a calling that everyone can take.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
He also provided constant support and encouragement, especially during the first year when homesicknesses often made me want to give up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
When I was offered a band director position in
Charleston, which would have me moving away from home for good, he definitely
wasn’t happy about it. But he also knew how good an opportunity this was and
how important it was to me. A few days after I arrived in the Holy City, my
father came to help me buy/build furniture and set up for the beginning of a
new phase in my life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
Throughout these moments—and many
others—my dad managed to be both a best friend and a wonderful mentor. In
between watching the Atlanta Braves during their miracle 1991 worst-to-first
season, he made sure I understood that a commitment to hard work can not only
supplement talent, but also help overcome a lack of interest/inspiration. When
we weren’t binge watching episodes of Angel, he would patiently explain how to
properly invest and save money for the future. And on our many long drives
between Kentucky, Atlanta, and Charleston, he spoke to me about the importance
being kind, being honest, and cherishing the people you love.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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That last one might sound
redundant, but my dad is the type of guy who has no qualms about randomly (and
often) telling my mom or me how much he loves us. I guess that might seem weird
to some folks, but it wasn’t odd to us. It’s exactly what you’d expect from man
who goes all out on everything—including how he loves and cares for his family.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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A few weeks ago, my father came down to be here with me during Nick's Life Implosion 2017 after my mom had to leave. In between watching our favorite movies/TV shows and debating the potential direction of the <i>Alien</i> film franchise, he also made sure I stayed focused and didn't give up.</div>
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***<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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…but back to basketball.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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After the game mentioned at the
beginning of this post, my dad took on a bigger role coaching our team, which made us start to play significantly better. The next year, he was talked into being a
head coach. Despite his initial reluctance, my dad went on to be the most
successful coach in the league. His teams consistently finished in first place
despite often not being the most talented.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He even managed to use another
great Gene Hackman line. One year, we had a game that took place during a church youth group
trip, which left us with only five players…and we were playing the best team in
the league…and they had their full roster.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In the fourth quarter, our best
player fouled out, leaving us with 4 players on the court (as opposed to the five we were supposed to have). The ref came over and
asked my dad if he wanted to forfeit. He responded in one of the most awesome
ways imaginable.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IW9bxxXxBSg/WUatn-eGjdI/AAAAAAAAHj4/q9jM_51z9JwB0kBK5Dz6esQOlVt61G43wCLcBGAs/s1600/Dad5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="912" height="218" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IW9bxxXxBSg/WUatn-eGjdI/AAAAAAAAHj4/q9jM_51z9JwB0kBK5Dz6esQOlVt61G43wCLcBGAs/s400/Dad5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
Despite being shorthanded against
formidable competition, we somehow took the lead after that. Unfortunately, we
couldn’t keep it. When the final buzzer sounded, my dad called us over and said
“Don’t worry. We’ll get them next time.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sure enough, our
full roster demolished the supposedly unbeatable first place team at our next meeting, cementing my
dad’s status as a legend in our church’s youth basketball program.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
More important than wins and losses, he made the players he coached believe in themselves no matter what their talent level
was. Players who hadn’t been on one of his teams in years would still make time
to see and thank him for their time under his command. They even still called
him coach.</div>
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And I am so, so lucky to get
to call him Dad.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HGQdwrL3uDA/WUaunCNAktI/AAAAAAAAHkA/xQTJAIOBURY39pRzESDxmaDhR5qFo1NPgCLcBGAs/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-06-18%2Bat%2B12.46.54%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="601" data-original-width="599" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HGQdwrL3uDA/WUaunCNAktI/AAAAAAAAHkA/xQTJAIOBURY39pRzESDxmaDhR5qFo1NPgCLcBGAs/s400/Screen%2BShot%2B2017-06-18%2Bat%2B12.46.54%2BPM.png" width="397" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<o:p></o:p>Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-24562448222716647622017-05-13T16:35:00.000-04:002017-12-25T19:44:43.234-05:00My Mom is Awesome<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QFcLSZAvvXY/WRddICAGqSI/AAAAAAAAHiQ/RCdinmqKTewUMooTN0JkKufm3aXcUa5xACLcB/s1600/Mom1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QFcLSZAvvXY/WRddICAGqSI/AAAAAAAAHiQ/RCdinmqKTewUMooTN0JkKufm3aXcUa5xACLcB/s400/Mom1.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i style="font-size: 12pt;">Normally on Mother’s
Day, I like to repost the story about the time she and I managed to clog the
entire plumbing system of a Greek island.</i></div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This year, however,
has been a different sort of crapfest—one I would not and could not have
survived without her. I figure she deserves a little more of a write up this
time than an embarrassing bathroom story (no matter how epic and hilarious it
may be).</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">When I was little, the prospect of going underwater for any
amount of time terrified me. This wasn’t due to an inherent fear of drowning or
anything normal like that. It was because I thought that <a href="http://disney.wikia.com/wiki/Monstro" target="_blank">Monstro</a>, the whale
from the 1940’s Pinocchio animated movie, would eat me.</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Considering all the childhood nightmare fuel that film contains, I’m not sure why I latched onto the whale like I did. Perhaps it was
because the story of <a href="http://biblehub.com/library/marshall/the_wonder_book_of_bible_stories/the_story_of_jonah_and.htm" target="_blank">Jonah and the Whale</a> is one of the first stories used to
introduce kids to the Bible. There’s plenty of debate about whether or not
stories from the Old Testament are to be interpreted literally. But to my
four-year-old mind, the tale was church sanctioned confirmation that a whale
could in fact be an evil, man-eating creature…and this one had an appetite for
children.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-luYHbkeiopc/WRddXYIBPfI/AAAAAAAAHiU/SQIkP71sLdIaDePX-rccKo-0_3fhbKm7gCLcB/s1600/Mom2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-luYHbkeiopc/WRddXYIBPfI/AAAAAAAAHiU/SQIkP71sLdIaDePX-rccKo-0_3fhbKm7gCLcB/s400/Mom2.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">In an effort to help me overcome my <a href="http://www.fearof.net/fear-of-whales-phobia-cetaphobia/" target="_blank">cetaphobia</a> (a fear of
whales…and yes it’s real thing), my mom said that if I managed to go underwater
at a YMCA swim lesson, she would reward me with a <a href="http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Bossk" target="_blank">Bossk</a> action figure.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the time, I had no idea I would eventually become
obsessed with both the Star Wars movies and the tiny pieces of plastic that
went along with them, which now adorn multiple shelves and wall areas in my
office. I didn’t even know who Bossk was back then besides being “the cool
lizard man” that showed up onscreen for a few seconds in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Empire Strikes Back</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "cambria"; font-size: 10.0pt;">“Didn’t he have elbows in the movie?”</span></i><!--EndFragment-->
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
I also knew there was no way my
mom would let me go underwater at the YMCA if it wasn’t safe. Still, the
prospect of Monstro showing up to devour me continued to wage war with my
desire to own a real life piece of my favorite film. Then, as we got in the car
to leave for the pool, my mom played the ultimate trump card: She took Bossk
out of her purse and showed him to me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
She’d already bought the toy.
That meant that as soon as I conquered my fears, the action figure would
immediately be mine.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
When my turn at the pool came, I took
a deep breath, submerged myself under the water, and discreetly went ballistic.
I say “discreetly” because I was still under the illusion that the space
beneath the pool’s surface constituted a different world. As far as I was
concerned, the only thing that could hear or see me screaming into the chlorine-filled
abyss was a giant two-dimensional whale. The poor girl running the swim lesson
probably thought the geyser of bubbles I’d created was from my bowels emptying.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
Fortunately, both my sphincter
and my mom’s assurances of safety remained true. I’d gone underwater and
survived. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
I don’t actually remember the
moment my mom gave me that cherished Bossk action figure. You’d think such a
momentous occasion would be burned into my memory, but what really stuck with
me from that ordeal was the fact that my mom believed in me. Despite my crippling
fear of a cartoon whale, I wasn’t oblivious enough to think she would buy and
show me a toy if my success wasn’t a safe bet. She not only knew I could do it,
but she knew I would do it, too. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
In the grand scheme of things,
that terrifying dive into a highly controlled environment constituted an
exceptionally small victory in my life. My mom’s faith, however, would end up
being more valuable than I could possibly imagine.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
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***<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
If the world ever becomes boring enough
that the story of my life is written, it will be severely lacking in the absent
and/or abusive parent portion that makes for a more compelling narrative. I’ve
been extremely lucky to have two loving parents who were both heavily interested
and involved in my life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
As far as interests go, I definitely
take after my dad. If there’s a good story/franchise involving monsters, aliens,
malevolent spirits, or anything can just plain scare the crap out of you, we’re
100% on board. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c5-qBcZjcMs/WRdefXn-FRI/AAAAAAAAHig/WvbZysqaxnwcjIWJgAIE6oXRFrJiQGWYwCLcB/s1600/Mom4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="365" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c5-qBcZjcMs/WRdefXn-FRI/AAAAAAAAHig/WvbZysqaxnwcjIWJgAIE6oXRFrJiQGWYwCLcB/s400/Mom4.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">You think Mom
would let us keep this in the house?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<!--EndFragment--></td></tr>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">We like to suit up in our
customized paintball gear and hunt each other on various playing fields in
Georgia and South Carolina (which sometimes ends with us <a href="http://www.ramblingbeachcat.com/2012/05/finding-even-more-appreciating-for-our.html" target="_blank">squealing like terrified kittens after we ambush one another at the exact same time</a>).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
Together, we can wonder the
hallways of a large comic con or watch financial news shows and become equally
enthralled. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
Despite my father having no
affiliation to the University of Kentucky (besides the fact that I attend
school there and graduated from it), he reacts to the athletic programs’
results with the same elation or despair that I do. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
We call each other to complain
about how bad <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Walking Dead</i> was
this past season or how <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stranger Things</i>
might be the greatest television show ever made.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
Mom’s interests, on the other
hand, do not often align with ours. When Dad and I react favorably to a promo
or trailer for some new action/horror movie, she will usually roll her eyes and
say “You guys can see that one without me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
Where I do take after my her,
however, is in my personality—particularly with regard to my sense of humor. We
are both the type of people who will walk onto an airplane wearing neck pillows
on our heads like hats, smiling and waving to the strangers around us as if
we’re greeting a throng of adoring fans. We can also laugh at one another’s
embarrassing-yet-harmless misfortunes—like <a href="http://www.ramblingbeachcat.com/2012/01/lessons-learned-hard-way-finding-irony.html" target="_blank">when I forget what the safety key on a treadmill is for</a>. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
One area where I strive to take
after my mom (but cannot possibly match her) is her ability to nurture people’s
hearts. I know lots of folks think their mom is the most loving and caring
person on the planet, but my mom’s so good that she’s made a volunteer career
out of it as a <a href="https://www.stephenministries.org/" target="_blank">Stephen Minister</a>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
In addition to her uncanny knack
for showing love and empathy to an unfathomable degree, she’s also great at
helping people find strength and potential within themselves that they didn’t
know they had. While I was growing up, Mom never allowed me to retreat into my
introverted shell for unhealthy amounts of time. Despite my general (and often severe)
lack of self confidence, she still managed to convince me that I needed to try
new things—and that I could actually be good at some of them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
Sometimes, she was right…like
with band, which started as something I had to be convinced was worth sticking
to and soon grew into a passion that eventually become a beloved career. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Other times, she wasn’t…like with
soccer. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://media.giphy.com/media/FDm9ew9Il0vPq/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://media.giphy.com/media/FDm9ew9Il0vPq/giphy.gif" width="220" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">The kid
playing goalie in the gif isn’t me.</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">I was actually much worse.</span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
This wasn’t some helicopter
parent demanding her kid try things until they succeeded at something so she
could brag to other moms at the PTA meetings. When my mom got the sense I really
didn’t like something (like soccer…and tennis), she didn’t push it. But when
she saw me struggling or losing hope in something I loved, she refused to let
me give up. Instead, she would gently but firmly push me to face down whatever
new Monstro I’d concocted inside my head. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
If I succeeded, we’d celebrate.
If I failed, she would pick me back up and help me try again. No matter what
happened, though, I knew that if my mom was supporting me and refusing to let
me give up, then at least one person in the world truly believed I could do it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt; text-align: center;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
On March 19, 2017, my life took a
substantially drastic and severe turn. I won’t get into it here (yet), but let’s
just say that it was a shock I was in no way, shape, or form, prepared for. What
started out as a relaxing day watching <a href="http://www.espn.com/mens-college-basketball/game?gameId=400947227" target="_blank">Kentucky win an NCAA tournament game</a>
turned into arguably the worst night of my entire life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 10;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 8.0pt;"><a href="http://www.freepik.com/free-photo/lake-building-brick-outdoor-summer_1062767.htm">(freepik)</a></span></i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xoeFTd1_29Q/WRdfZ5JSn0I/AAAAAAAAHio/rGN-HD18lHAzEqkWCdiuobjslmgLfnlqACLcB/s1600/Mom5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xoeFTd1_29Q/WRdfZ5JSn0I/AAAAAAAAHio/rGN-HD18lHAzEqkWCdiuobjslmgLfnlqACLcB/s400/Mom5.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VHuiBJ-r8Js/WRdfek0JWUI/AAAAAAAAHis/T-sm-eoSTpAtakR5l__tmlU28wOs9o69QCLcB/s1600/Mom6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VHuiBJ-r8Js/WRdfek0JWUI/AAAAAAAAHis/T-sm-eoSTpAtakR5l__tmlU28wOs9o69QCLcB/s400/Mom6.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape
id="Picture_x0020_3" o:spid="_x0000_i1028" type="#_x0000_t75" style='width:6in;
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
When it happened, part of me
didn’t want to call my parents. I was so embarrassed that my life could implode
so spectacularly without me having a clue it was coming. But my parents had
always been there for me when I needed them—and now I would need them more than
ever. I also knew that my mom wouldn’t let me drown even though all I wanted to
do was sink and let this new Monstro, which bigger and more terrifying than any
of the others before it, swallow me whole. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
Despite both my parents being
similarly shocked and heartbroken over the news, Mom immediately shifted into
warrior mode, packing her bags and preparing to tear asphalt from Atlanta to
Charleston. In one of the very few moments of levity from that evening, my dad nervously
described her as having gone “full mama grizzly bear.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
“It’s actually pretty scary,” he
said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
If we’d both been thinking more
clearly at the time, we probably would’ve said that mom had actually gone “<a href="http://avp.wikia.com/wiki/Ellen_Ripley" target="_blank">full Ripley</a>.” Like the badass hero from one of my dad and I’s favorite movies,
mom was ready and willing to combat any danger to her child’s wellbeing…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://68.media.tumblr.com/5bada32f4f00aa4fc24408be953717c8/tumblr_oooxf3tOuG1qjxgmho1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://68.media.tumblr.com/5bada32f4f00aa4fc24408be953717c8/tumblr_oooxf3tOuG1qjxgmho1_500.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">…except instead of going to
rescue <a href="http://avp.wikia.com/wiki/Rebecca_%22Newt%22_Jorden" target="_blank">Newt</a>, a plucky pint-sized survivor with an adorably weird way of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B436avtEXzs" target="_blank">saying the word “mostly,”</a> she was going to a son in the midst of a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dsx2vdn7gpY" target="_blank">full-blown, Hudson-level meltdown</a>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dftFZKIZoZs/WRdgkal_1zI/AAAAAAAAHi0/vHahqvsT_mQJNDSrDJs3ELmGwxK-ksOCQCLcB/s1600/Mom7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dftFZKIZoZs/WRdgkal_1zI/AAAAAAAAHi0/vHahqvsT_mQJNDSrDJs3ELmGwxK-ksOCQCLcB/s400/Mom7.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">My face was locked in this expression for 24 hours before she got here.</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
When my mom arrived, she hit hard
with love and support. Lots of hugging, lots of holding me while I cried, and
plenty of reassurances that I would make it through this. She also assured me
that she would be here as long as I needed and make sure the dogs were okay
when I wasn’t home. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
Then she got to work.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
Sometimes it was little things,
like making me promise to open the blinds every morning to let sunlight into
the house…which actually made a much bigger difference than I would’ve
expected. Or insisting I eat healthy meals—together—instead of going off by
myself to gorge on comfort food. She helped me get the house clean and keep it
that way (although my resistance to properly folding t-shirts remains a hill
I’m willing to die on). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
Other times, it was simply having
someone there to talk to and joke around with. Laughing and smiling were not
actions I’d expected to do for a very long time. Now it was my general state of
being before I turned in most nights.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
Most importantly, my mom refused
to let me to wallow in my own despair. This wasn’t a simple matter of cheerleading
or steady positive messaging, either. There were plenty of times I really did
just want to give up. No day has been worse than March 19, but I’ve had a
couple since that came close. Each time I started to sink, my mom was there
with all the love and support I could ask for along with a firm resolve to not let
me drown. No matter how much I wanted to give in and let the depression swallow
me into a void isolation and defeat, she refused to let me to do it. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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She didn’t plead or cajole. She
didn’t offer me an action figure, either (in case you were wondering). Instead,
she would give some variation of “I love you and you are not worthless. Now get
back up off the mat and fight.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NH_938BWIvI/WRdg8YjrpnI/AAAAAAAAHi4/foFaSZ3ZW_oBuTix1-UBhG4ojZyvm9a3wCLcB/s1600/Mom8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NH_938BWIvI/WRdg8YjrpnI/AAAAAAAAHi4/foFaSZ3ZW_oBuTix1-UBhG4ojZyvm9a3wCLcB/s400/Mom8.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">I think she might’ve also called me “Rock” and</span></i><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">
<i><span style="font-size: 10pt;">forced me to chase a chicken around the yard a couple times, too.</span></i></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I realize that the “fight” part
of all this might not seem like much, especially since it’s mostly inside my own
head. But as someone who already suffers from clinical depression, dealing with
the sudden and unexpected implosion of my life on top of it has been by far the
hardest battle I’ve ever fought…one I couldn’t still be fighting and surviving
right now if it wasn’t for my mom.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt; text-align: center;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
Sometimes, heroics are erroneously
linked to physical or lethal force. One reason I love the movie <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Aliens</i> so much is because its
protagonist, Ellen Ripley, completely turns this common trope on its head.
She’s not at all like the heavily armed, gun-ho soldiers surrounding her at the
start of the film. But when the poop starts hitting the fan, and when the life
of her surrogate daughter Newt is directly threatened, Ripley’s motherly
instincts kick in, turning her into one of the most badass characters in movie
history.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
Chances are that my mom doesn’t
see any sort of connection between her and the characters from a lot of the
movies and TV shows my dad and I like. She can’t wield a katana blade like
Michonne or fire a pair of pistols like Black Widow. She doesn’t have super
powers like Jessica Jones or Eleven (I think).<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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But I hope she knows that to me
and Dad—along with the countless others my mom has counseled over the year—she’s
one hell of a warrior. The type of person you can depends on not only for comfort
and protection, but to be a source of strength, as well. When it comes to the
wars waged by the human soul, there’s no person I’d rather follow into battle
than her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
And if monsters like the Alien
Queen did exist—and ever threatened to harm me or my dad—I have no doubt that
my mom would find a way to step into a power loader, utter some variation of
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=01NO-0lASUw" target="_blank">Ripley’s most famous line,</a> and smash the creature into submission. It wouldn’t
matter that she was scared out of her mind (like anyone else would be). My mom
is the type of person who does whatever is necessary to protect and defend the
people she loves, especially her family. I consider myself incalculably lucky
to be considered part of both those groups.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
Thank you for everything, Mom. I’ve
always known you were a great parent, but these last two months have proven it
once again. I love you and appreciate you so, so much…even when you get mad at
me for how I put my clothes away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
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<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0mq7mTNEpMY/WRdh_tYWigI/AAAAAAAAHjA/H-IboI4S0-Q1L9KZ_zpgmzE3pnM60pP8ACLcB/s1600/Mom10.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0mq7mTNEpMY/WRdh_tYWigI/AAAAAAAAHjA/H-IboI4S0-Q1L9KZ_zpgmzE3pnM60pP8ACLcB/s400/Mom10.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 101.35pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">PS: Because it’s too good not to
share—and a bit of a tradition at this point—<a href="http://www.ramblingbeachcat.com/2012/04/lessons-learned-hard-way-two-people-can.html" target="_blank">here’s the story about us clogging the entire plumbing system on the island of Naxos</a>.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-35774990260415919972016-11-12T23:14:00.000-05:002017-12-25T19:44:56.652-05:007 Good Things For Everyone (Yes, Everyone) About a Trump Presidency<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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</span> <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">No, this is not another straight white guy telling you that a Trump presidency won’t affect you. Women, people of color, and the LGQBT have legitimate reasons to be terrified about the what our country will be like during the next few years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But believe it or not, there are a few things about a Trump presidency that will benefit everyone.</span><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">1. No ‘Going Rogue’ Remnant<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Although I voted for Barrack Obama in 2008, I still thought that John McCain was a pretty solid guy. In the years to come, however, I began to despise him. Not just for becoming a <a href="http://www.nationalmemo.com/john-mccain-explains-why-the-gop-is-against-every-single-person-obama-nominates/">full-fledged obstructionist</a> (bad) or thinking that <a href="http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2010/12/22/john-mccains-dont-ask-dont-tell-dream-votes-and-his-lasting-anger.html">gay people were not capable of effectively serving in our military</a> (worse), but because of this:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Sarah Palin, America’s walking bowl of vinegar-soaked word salad, was spawned from the ashes of McCain’s failed (yet otherwise dignified) 2008 presidential campaign. Her time as our country’s potential vice president was rife with pitfalls and confusion, which included:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Her claim that the <a href="http://politicalticker.blogs.cnn.com/2008/10/22/palin-takes-heat-for-saying-vp-in-charge-of-the-senate/">Vice President is in charge of the Senate</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Saying that she had foreign policy experience because <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/Vote2008/story?id=5782924&page=1&singlePage=true">Russia could be seen from certain parts of Alaska</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Refusing to <a href="http://www.politico.com/story/2012/04/5-best-couric-palin-2008-moments-074735">name any specific news sources</a> when Katie Couric asked what newspapers and magazines she read.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But it wasn’t until she quit her job as Alaska’s governor and attempted to become a political pundit/brand that things really went off the rails. Freed from the shackles of a campaign cycle, Palin abandoned whatever remained of her word-to-mouth filter and went full bore stupid.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A few highlights:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Claimed that Paul Revere was “<a href="http://www.factcheck.org/2011/06/palins-twist-on-paul-revere/">ringing those bells</a>” to <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/sarah-palins-account-paul-reveres-midnight-ride-shot/story?id=13773745">warn the British</a> (?) that they couldn’t take the Americans’ guns (and <a href="http://www.factcheck.org/2011/06/palins-twist-on-paul-revere/">steadfastly refused to admit</a> that her version of history was grossly inaccurate).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Invented new (and painfully dumb) <a href="http://www.ew.com/article/2010/07/19/sarah-palin-refudiate">words</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Morphed into a full blown a parody of herself by telling immigrants to the United States that they should “<a href="http://time.com/4024396/sarah-palin-speak-american-energy-department/">speak American</a>.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It got so bad that she was actually <a href="http://www.politico.com/story/2015/06/sarah-palin-dumped-by-fox-119357">fired from Fox News for being too stupid</a>, which is like being kicked off a rugby team for being too aggressive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But despite Palin’s clear lack of mental fitness, she still managed to become a key member/instigator of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tea_Party_movement">Tea Party</a>, an ultraconservative political movement which aggravated a large portion of humanity even most Republicans.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Part of what allowed a person like her (and others listed below) to ride the Tea Party to prominence was their gospel of false disenfranchisement. What Palin and her ilk lacked in smarts, they made up for in sound and fury. They were able to get people to protest tax increases after <a href="http://www.marketwatch.com/story/obama-tea-baggers-ive-already-cut">Obama cut middle/low income taxes to their lowest level in years</a>. Palin herself was one of the “masterminds” behind making people believe that the Affordable Care Act (aka Obamacare) would include “<a href="http://www.politifact.com/truth-o-meter/article/2009/dec/18/politifact-lie-year-death-panels/">Death Panels</a>,” which would decide if seniors and critically disabled people were worth receiving medical care. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Most egregious, however, was their 8-year long scream that the country’s economy was spiraling down the toilet as it was actually <a href="http://money.cnn.com/2016/07/28/news/economy/obama-clinton-economy/">grew at a consistent (if unremarkable) rate</a>. Considering the near apocalyptic state our economy was when Obama took over for Bush, I'd say should have qualified as a clear win.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But now that the Republicans control the White House and both houses, the economy should be even better, right? I mean, there’s absolutely no way this turns out like a dog finally catching the car its been chasing down the street for eight years only to get rolled up under the wheels.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It’s all fun and games being the underdog until you’re handed every single tool you need to succeed. Then it’s time to put up or shut up. Add in the fact that Trump is getting a significantly better starting point than Obama did in 2008, and Republicans have a whole lot of “putting up” to do. 8 year’s worth, in fact. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And whether they succeed (unlikely) or not (heh), people like Palin—who’ve been telling us that this very scenario would lead to OMG YOU GUYS THE GREATEST ECONOMY EVAR—don’t have anything to protest anymore…or for the next two years, at least.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">2. Alex Jones’ Head Might Explode<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Conspiracy theorist Alex Jones has been <a href="http://www.ramblingbeachcat.com/2013/04/alex-jones-brilliant-at-pretending-to.html">predicting the imminent end of civilization since 1996</a>. More specifically, he claims that the world’s political and economic elite will <a href="http://store.infowars.com/ENDGAME-Blueprint-for-Global-Enslavement_p_23.html">reduce the global population by approximately 80%</a> while they continue to live forever via advanced technology and/or dark magic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As you might have noticed, their plan doesn’t seem to be going very well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Jones also has a penchant for claiming that everything is a conspiracy, from the Sandy Hook Massacre (<a href="http://www.politifact.com/texas/statements/2016/sep/01/hillary-clinton/hillary-clinton-correct-austins-alex-jones-said-no/">never happened</a>) to Justin Beiber (wish it never happened). Don’t believe me about The Beibes? Watch below—and make sure your sound isn’t turned up too high. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He can even create conspiracies out of things you didn’t think were possible—like his claim that the United States is dumping Prozac in our drinking water, which is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mR4d5VblzsA">making shrimp suicidal and causing fish and frogs to turn gay</a>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lest you think he’s not taken seriously by anyone, Jones’ concerns about the Department of Homeland stockpiling ammunition <a href="http://mediamatters.org/research/2013/05/07/the-origin-and-truth-behind-alex-jones-ammo-act/193938">inspired Congressional action to prevent it</a>. He was also one of the main proponents behind making people believe that a recent large military training operation (Jade Helm 15) was actually a <a href="http://www.philly.com/philly/news/breaking/FactCheck_Jade_Helm_military_exercise_is_not_martial_law.html">government takeover of Texas…including the actual governor of Texas</a>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I don't care who this 'Marshal Law' fella is, </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>he's not getting anywhere</i><i> near my guns or my freedom!"</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But to Jones’ credit, he has remained steadfastly consistent in his condemnation of the United States presidency. Whether it was a Democrat or Republican occupying the office, Jones fervently declared them to be a part of the “<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_World_Order_(conspiracy_theory)" target="_blank">New World Order</a>” that would soon enslave and/or kill us all. He has supported presidential candidates before, but always ones who were on the fringe and not in any way close to the popular vote.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When Jones hitched his wagon to Trump, he probably thought (like the rest of us) that The Donald had no shot at the White House. Trump’s lack of political experience, brash nature, and constant criticism from the “establishment” made him the perfect spoiler candidate. Add in the fact that he was running against Hillary Clinton—who is arguably the ultimate Washington insider—and Jones probably got so excited that he didn’t even need the <a href="http://store.infowars.com/">boner pills and vitality juice he sells on his website</a>. Hillary would win, Trump would claim it was rigged, and he would have four years of solid shadow government conspiracy material to pull out of his ass.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But to the surprise of almost everyone—<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2016/11/12/us/politics/trump-president.html">including Trump himself</a>—The Donald won. Now Jones finds himself in the precarious position of supporting a man who occupies a position he has consistently called a puppet of the New World Order. How can Jones claim to be fighting the good fight against the Illuminati when he unwittingly gave one of its new figureheads his full-throated support?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Paradox shut down initiated...</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And in case you think Jones might admit his "mistake" and turn on Trump, that’s not happening. He never apologizes for any of his <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZwURLwd8pEA">growing list of failed predictions</a>. Ever. The closest he ever came was telling Eddie Bravo he was “<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jWwQJPAONe0">just joking</a>” when he tried to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7WkGyAqVmCk">live broadcast the end of the world during Y2K</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yep. Poor Mr. Jones might lose all his tinfoil hat street cred, forcing him to close up shop and slink back to his <a href="http://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/6601-Dogwood-Creek-Dr_Austin_TX_78746_M80640-76351">$1 million gated community home</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">3. Sean Hannity & Rush Limbaugh </span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Remember that beautiful silence we got from Michael Moore after Obama was elected? Oh sure, he emerged from his <a href="http://variety.com/2015/dirt/real-estalker/michael-moore-lists-rustic-luxe-upper-michigan-lake-house-1201558248/">luxurious mansion</a> occasionally to decry the evils of capitalism. But for the most part, both liberals and conservatives were free from having to hear his stream of <a href="http://www.ramblingbeachcat.com/2011/07/face-palm-moments-in-journalism-michael.html">sanctimonious half-truths</a> and <a href="http://www.ramblingbeachcat.com/2011/12/michael-moore-finally-responds-to-proof.html">outright lies</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Unfortunately, he’s probably going to be around a lot more now, especially after <a href="http://michaelmoore.com/trumpwillwin/">predicting Trump’s win</a>). But for two of his equally idiotic conservative counterparts, the political cycle of silence has finally come.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">They’ll likely fight it for as long as they can, but without the opposite party in power, the pair will see a significant decrease in both audience and media attention. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Or maybe they’ll both do what Glenn Beck did and <a href="https://thinkprogress.org/beck-admits-he-doesnt-give-a-flying-crap-about-the-political-process-we-re-an-entertainment-company-2998b894bca2#.w2s7js9w4">admit it’s all just an act</a>. Probably not, but we can dream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">4. A Renewed Emphasis on Critical Thinking<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As a liberal trying to reconcile Trump’s ascent to the presidency, it’s easy to take an elitist stance and declare that his supporters are stupid. Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Remember the Sarah Palin-led Tea Party we talked about? There’s a decent amount of evidence that </span><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/15/us/politics/15poll.html?_r=0"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">many Tea Party members are pretty well educated</span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">. And even though Trump was ferociously backed by his beloved uneducated supporters, he got a substantial amount of votes from <a href="https://www.rawstory.com/2016/11/exploding-the-uneducated-white-men-myth-of-trumps-rise-to-power/">(white) college educated voters</a>. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Also, I’m sure all of us have at least one anecdote about screaming at a smart acquaintance, friend, or family member for supporting suchan objectively terrible candidate. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">For me, that person was </span><a href="https://www.rawstory.com/2016/11/exploding-the-uneducated-white-men-myth-of-trumps-rise-to-power/">Brett J. Talley</a><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">, one of my favorite authors. He’s also a Harvard Law graduate and a hell of a lot smarter than I am. So when Trump tried to deny that he said </span><a href="http://www.politifact.com/truth-o-meter/statements/2016/jun/03/hillary-clinton/yes-donald-trump-did-call-climate-change-chinese-h/">global warming was a myth created by China</a><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">, I decided to ask Mr. Talley what he thought.</span></span><br />
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<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="no" height="750" src="//storify.com/NickNafster79/trump-on-global-warming/embed?border=false" width="100%"></iframe><script src="//storify.com/NickNafster79/trump-on-global-warming.js?border=false"></script><noscript>[<a href="//storify.com/NickNafster79/trump-on-global-warming" target="_blank">View the story "Trump on Global Warming" on Storify</a>]</noscript></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"...probably thought it sounded good when he said it?" Seriously?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And lest you think this cognitive blind spot is limited to conservatives, here’s another personal anecdote from the other side of the political aisle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Last year, one of the smartest and most accomplished educators I know—who is also an unabashed Hillary supporter—challenged people to provide him with any documented evidence that Clinton was dishonest. </span><span style="text-align: center;">Despite my detest for Trump, I couldn’t help but recall Clinton’s </span><a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/fact-checker/wp/2016/05/23/recalling-hillary-clintons-claim-of-landing-under-sniper-fire-in-bosnia/" style="text-align: center;">infamous (and fake) Bosnian plane landing story</a><span style="text-align: center;">, which she told during the 2008 campaign until it was exposed as an outright lie.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My friend was taken aback at first. Then he collected himself and claimed that this act of blatant dishonesty was “no big deal” because it was “just a tall tale.” He ended his justification by saying “even my own grandmother does that sometimes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Both of these people would wipe the floor with me in an IQ test. The one place I may have them beat, however, is the ability to fight my gut when evidence is presented for something that runs contrary to my own personal views/bias. It is a learned skill, which started with my own father and was carried on by various teachers and mentors.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I often joke that I used to be a conservative until I started reading more, but the reality is that my shift toward the left began when I was asked to examine my conservative viewpoints from every possible angle. I eventually learned that many of the beliefs I held were based on nothing but rhetoric and absorbing the same ideas as the majority of people around me. It was a hard lesson, but it opened my eyes to how it important it was to put logic before politics.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Want to see it in action? Here are a couple examples you can try out on your own that never fail to give even my smartest conservative friends pause:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Next time someone rants about how we need to drug test welfare recipients, ask if they believe that executives at corporations receiving government bailouts should be drug tested, as well. If/when they dismissively say “sure, them too,” ask why they aren’t posting memes or rants about it, as well…especially since drug testing welfare recipients has <a href="http://time.com/3117361/welfare-recipients-drug-testing/">proven to be a waste of tax dollars</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Next time someone says they are pro-life, ask them this series of questions:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">1.) Do you believe abortion is murder?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">2.) If so, then what have you done to stop thousands of murders happening in your own state, town, or county? (Besides making Facebook posts and voting for prolife politicians who don’t do anything about it).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">3.) If you refuse to try and stop abortions from happening because “it’s the law,” doesn’t that make you just as bad as Germans in the 1930’s who saw what was happening to the Jews—and didn’t act for the same reason)?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">4.) Look up the distance to the nearest clinic that provides abortions. Then ask your prolife friend if government agents were executing unwanted (and fully born) children at this proximity, would you still be able to live your life the way you are now—and continue to do nothing?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">5.) If so, then what is the difference?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You may not change many minds, but you will get them thinking beyond their gut level entrenched viewpoints. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It’s also on us to teach our children to think critically. Notice that I didn’t say “indoctrinate.” Teaching kids to examine and process information into their own ideas means that inevitably, they won’t agree with you on some things—and that’s good. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Would you rather they inform themselves based on entrenched and repeated mantras? Then have them watch Fox News. Would you rather have change their ideals and principals based on whatever they feel that moment? The have them watch any other media outlet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But if we want our children to form ideas based on evidence and genuine beliefs, then lets teach them to sift through the noise on both sides of the political spectrum. I think that one generation may already be starting to do that….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">5. Millennials Finally Get Some Respect<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Millennials are mercilessly gaslighted by every generation behind them, including mine. While some of the <a href="http://www.eater.com/2015/12/20/10630408/oberlin-college-students-cafeterias-general-tsos-chicken-bahn-mi-sushi-cultural-appropriation">criticism may be warranted</a>, it’s usually very unfair. For starters, the generations criticizing them are the same ones who:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Lost their damn minds over white and black people having to share a school or even a water fountain together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Polluted the environment so much that <a href="http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/news/the-point-of-no-return-climate-change-nightmares-are-already-here-20150805">we’re past the point of no return</a> on climate change.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Turned the American college/university system into a profit center and debt generator.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Ignored A.I.D.S until it became an epidemic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Obliterated the economy and housing market.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Invented capri pants.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Put Trump in the Oval Office.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You know who didn’t vote for Trump? <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2016/11/10/opinions/sutter-millennial-trump/">Millenials</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">While many from my generation believe a man who <a href="http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/politics/elections/2016/06/09/donald-trump-unpaid-bills-republican-president-laswuits/85297274/">consistently stiffs his contractors</a> and <a href="http://gawker.com/a-complete-list-of-donald-trump-s-business-disasters-1764151188">routinely fails at running businesses</a> can improve the economy, they saw through the rhetoric.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Still think millennials are stupid and coddled? Then someone please explain how Newt Gingrich can straight up admit that <a href="http://theweek.com/speedreads/661335/newt-gingrich-admits-trump-probably-cant-mexico-pay-wall-but-great-campaign-device">Trump’s promise to make Mexico pay for the wall was only a campaign tactic</a>—and my parent’s generation just shrugs their shoulders. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Or how about my grandparent’s generation, who are currently pleading for everyone to unite now that Trump is the president when they spent 8 years refusing to except Obama was even a U.S. citizen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">While us old folks continue to allow climate change deniers a voice, pretend the gender wage gap doesn't exist, and ignore institutional racism, millennials aren’t buying it. All the jokes about participation trophies ring hollow when many of us can’t be bothered to participate in making the world a better place beyond offering “thoughts and prayers” in our Facebook statuses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It’s also worth noting that millennials are not as liberal as you might think. Plenty of my former students (who are now adults and make me feel super old) have embraced core conservative values while still being able to call a spade a spade. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Maybe it’s because they grew up with the internet and know their way around the Google machine—or maybe they’re smart enough to see that <a href="http://www.nbcnews.com/politics/2016-election/drain-swamp-trump-s-potential-cabinet-fills-out-washington-insiders-n682341">filling your presidential cabinet with Washington insiders</a> is the exact opposite of “draining the swamp.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But whatever the case, they seem to have a much better grasp of that whole “critical thinking” thing than a lot of us do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">6. Passive Support Becomes Active Work</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">As a straight white dude with a steady income, it's unlikely that I'll experience any significant fallout from Trump’s presidency—unless a world leader insults him on Twitter and triggers a nuclear war. But aside from that terrifyingly real possibility, I'll be fine. I might even get a lower tax bill.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Everyone else, though? They’re terrified, and rightfully so. Even if you believe that Trump won’t do anything extreme, put on your empathy pants for a minute and imagine the following:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Being a woman in a country being led by a man who said “<a href="https://news.vice.com/article/women-you-have-to-treat-them-like-shit-new-ad-highlights-trumps-statements-on-women">Women…you have to treat them like shit</a>.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Being a Muslim in a country led by a man who believes your religious beliefs should require you to be <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/politics/first-draft/2015/11/20/donald-trump-says-hed-absolutely-require-muslims-to-register/">registered like a criminal</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Being a black person or any person of color in a country led by a man who was <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/post-politics/wp/2016/11/01/the-kkks-official-newspaper-has-endorsed-donald-trump-for-president/">endorsed by the KKK</a>, trumpets <a href="http://fortune.com/donald-trump-white-supremacist-genocide/">endorsements from white supremacists</a>, and was <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/04/29/donald-trump-blacks-lawsuit_n_855553.html">sued by the Justice Department for refusing to rent apartments to black people</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Being a gay or trans person in a country where the Vice President believes that <a href="http://www.politifact.com/california/statements/2016/jul/28/gavin-newsom/true-mike-pence-advocated-conversion-therapy/">how you are is a mental illness that the government should invest in trying to cure</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It’s easy for straight white guys like me to think that Trump won’t actually do these things—or to offer “thoughts and prayers” that his emboldened supporters will eventually calm down. But for the people listed above, the potential for violence and violation is not an abstract concept—it’s their lives. Lives that were already filled with daily struggles both big and small that are now about to become at best more stressful and potentially/likely a lot more dangerous.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Look, I’m not one of those “check your privilege” types, but this is Basic Human Empathy 101. Imagine going from having a black president to a white president who allegedly said to one of his closest advisors that <a href="http://www.snopes.com/trump-laziness-is-a-trait-in-blacks/">blacks are inherently lazy</a>. Or being a gay person who went from having your right to be married FINALLY recognized to having a Vice President who believes you are a walking abomination.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Ask a Muslim how often they’ve had people call them a terrorist or assume they hated America simply because of the way they chose to worship. Then ask if that type of behavior has increased or decreased since Trump won the election.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Do you know a woman who has ever been a victim of sexual assault? Then (very carefully) ask what she thinks about having a president who was RECORDED bragging about his ability to grab a woman “by the pussy” whether she wanted it or not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">These are our friends, coworkers, neighbors, and students—and they are under attack. Even if you don’t believe the <a href="http://thoughtcatalog.com/jacob-geers/2016/11/here-are-all-the-hate-crimes-that-have-taken-place-since-donald-trumps-election/">reports about a surge in hate crimes</a> since the election, it takes a lot of damn nerve to tell people they shouldn’t worry about their rights being stripped away until those in power go through with their pledges to do it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And chances are that you will see people any one of these groups being harassed verbally or physically. Don’t be a bystander. Don’t make an empty promise to “vote for a better world” in two years. Step in and stand up. Right here. Right now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And speaking of “two years,” start doing your research, become an informed voter, and show up to the midterm elections for once so you can make a difference…and for the love all that is good and holy, please stop <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2016/11/10/us/harambe-votes-trnd/">writing in Harambe</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">7. Ted Cruz Will Finally Stand Trial for the Zodiac Killings<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Just kidding.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">...or am I?</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b style="line-height: 24px;"><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am directly, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px none; color: #004f8b; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">on Twitter</a>.</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 24px;"><b><i>To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="color: #004f8b; outline: none;" target="_blank">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, Ted Cruz sends another clue to the San Francisco Police Department.</i></b></span></div>
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<br />Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-44012609338589913032016-10-22T17:47:00.001-04:002018-01-01T15:18:25.416-05:00The Worst Halloween Costumes of 2016<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u3FTE21Gxc0/Wj6RLIYeudI/AAAAAAAAHp0/ARKTR16BgeoV4KiFxbOlAwAbnO-vsYxuQCLcBGAs/s1600/KenBone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="585" data-original-width="325" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u3FTE21Gxc0/Wj6RLIYeudI/AAAAAAAAHp0/ARKTR16BgeoV4KiFxbOlAwAbnO-vsYxuQCLcBGAs/s320/KenBone.jpg" width="177" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.ramblingbeachcat.com/2011/10/terrible-halloween-costumes.html" target="_blank">A few years ago</a>, I spent a particularly soul crushing afternoon scouring the internet for the worst mass produced Halloween costumes available.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">With the passage of time and dulling of my spirit, I finally feel ready again to take a trip down this rabbit hole. Within the sea of Harley Quinn's and various Star Wars characters, I was able to dig up some truly awful getups.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Just like before, links to the costume's pages are at the bottom of each photo. I will warn you, however, that the following outfits cannot be worn ironically. They are objectively terrible.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Let's start with the men.</span></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Beer Pong Cup</span></u></b></h4>
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<a href="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/beer-pong-cup-adult-costume-bc-68768.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/beer-pong-cup-adult-costume-bc-68768.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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<u><a href="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/beer-pong-cup-adult-costume-bc-68768.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" target="_blank"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">buycostumes.com</span></i></a></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">At first glance, this actually appears to be a somewhat fun costume. Unfortunately, you're pretty much guaranteed to get pelted in the head every time you put that giant pingpong ball down (especially if I happen to be at the same party).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><u>Bun Maker</u></span></h4>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QhdcPA4FxCw/WkGYqK1pApI/AAAAAAAAH1E/Yn2aK1Fmf7IWmQIfbir_LL5TYaVhQpMaACLcBGAs/s1600/Bun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1155" data-original-width="1155" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QhdcPA4FxCw/WkGYqK1pApI/AAAAAAAAH1E/Yn2aK1Fmf7IWmQIfbir_LL5TYaVhQpMaACLcBGAs/s400/Bun.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<u><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.mooncostumes.com/item/1343" target="_blank">mooncostumes.com</a></span></i></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Nothing shows that you've transitioned from Child Halloween to Adult Halloween like spending $40 on a stupid hat and an apron that boldly proclaims I WILL IMPREGNATE YOU.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now to be fair, there is a women's <a href="http://www.mooncostumes.com/item/1342" target="_blank">Bun in the Oven costume</a> available that provides the one pictured above with some slightly better context...although it's still weird to wearing an overpriced outfit that instead declares I IMPREGNATED THIS WOMAN.</span></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Big Baby Adult </span></u></b></div>
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<a href="http://www.mooncostumes.com/image/44462" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.mooncostumes.com/image/44462" height="640" width="284" /></a></div>
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<u><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="http://www.mooncostumes.com/item/44462" target="_blank">mooncostumes.com</a></i></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You know what's even more disturbing than that generous level of thigh exposure? The store selling this costume does not provide a picture of the latex baby mask, which probably means it's even more horrifying that what you see here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">They also don't include those fuzzy blue booties, most like due to the fact that only a psychotic person who already owns their own pair would buy this.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you do decide to wear this costume, then make sure to go visit Mr. Bunmaker, who you'll find sitting in a corner and crying into his chef hat.</span></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Snake Charmer</span></u></b></h4>
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<a href="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/snake-charmer-adult-costume-bc-31698.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/snake-charmer-adult-costume-bc-31698.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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<u><a href="http://www.buycostumes.com/p/31698/snake-charmer-adult-costume" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>buycostumes.com</i></span></a></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yikes! All cultural appropriation/racist stereotype issues aside, this one is all the more terrifying due to its aggressive symbolism.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Think I'm overreacting? Then ask yourself if you'd take a drink from this man in a glass that you did not personally watch him fill. Yeah...I didn't think so.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><u>Genie in the Lamp</u></span></b></h4>
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<a href="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/genie-in-the-lamp-adult-costume-bc-32435.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/genie-in-the-lamp-adult-costume-bc-32435.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.buycostumes.com/p/32435/genie-in-the-lamp-adult-costume" target="_blank">buycostumes.com</a></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">No thanks, Mr. Rapey McRaperton. If I can still make a wish without caressing your junk, though, it would be for you to die in a fire.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now let's take a look at some of the costume offerings for couples.</span></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Plug and Socket Adult Costume</span></u></b></h4>
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<a href="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/plug-and-socket-adult-costume-bc-803251.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/plug-and-socket-adult-costume-bc-803251.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.buycostumes.com/p/803251/plug-and-socket-adult-costume" target="_blank">buycostumes.com</a></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hardy freaking har. Very subtle. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Never mind the fact that any people you talk to will feel insanely uncomfortable as they wait for the inevitable moment when you start giggling and bumping your pelvises together.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Also, I'm not exactly sure how to feel about the 'adult' listing on this one. On one hand, it's good that they identified it as a 'mature' costume theme. On the other hand, however, it makes me worried that there might be a child equivalent.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><u>Nerds Couples Costume</u></span></h4>
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<a href="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/nerds-couples-costume-bc-810060.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/nerds-couples-costume-bc-810060.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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<u><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.buycostumes.com/p/810060/nerds-couples-costume" target="_blank">buycostumes.com</a></span></i></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You guys better not have a fight or get sick of each other's company. Much like the last few NERDS at the bottom of the box, you're stuck together until the party's over.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">On the plus side, the Snake Charmer and Genie dudes will probably leave you alone.</span></div>
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<b style="font-size: x-large;"><u><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Peanut Butter / Jelly Couple</span></u></b></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x0BBWB7xslc/WkGZlU-TavI/AAAAAAAAH1M/AuVdreKd-c0T1T8WRNEgjEHjBr0oQLXOwCLcBGAs/s1600/pbj.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1054" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x0BBWB7xslc/WkGZlU-TavI/AAAAAAAAH1M/AuVdreKd-c0T1T8WRNEgjEHjBr0oQLXOwCLcBGAs/s400/pbj.jpg" width="351" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="http://www.mooncostumes.com/item/38004" target="_blank">mooncostumes.com</a></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Another costume that seems like a good one at first. Even if your partner keeps suggestively raising their eyebrows and whispering "It's peanut butter jelly time," the solid theme and excellent craftsmanship still make it worth wearing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But you've also got to consider that if the two of you decide to separate from each other, at least one person (probably me) will be unable to resist shoving you back into each other to make a sandwich.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Coke Diet Coke Couples Costume</u></b></span></h4>
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<a href="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/coke-and-diet-coke-couples-costume-for-adults-bc-809423.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/coke-and-diet-coke-couples-costume-for-adults-bc-809423.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="http://www.buycostumes.com/p/809423/coke-diet-coke-couples-costume-for-adults" target="_blank">buycostumes.com</a></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Get it? The woman is Diet Coke because women are always dieting and the man is regular Coke because his appearance doesn't matter! Casual sexism is hilarious!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Speaking of that, let's move onto the women's costumes.</span></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Sexy Ken Bone</span></u></b></h4>
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<a href="http://assets.yandycdn.com/Products/JV_CM106_RedTop_1_full_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://assets.yandycdn.com/Products/JV_CM106_RedTop_1_full_7.jpg" height="640" width="353" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.yandy.com/Sexy-Undecided-Voter-Costume.php" target="_blank"><i>yandy.com</i></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yep. For the low price of $95.95, you can parlay the bipartisan love for America's favorite undecided voter into your own personal douchebag magnet--and the costume comes with a free pair of panties (seriously).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is disgusting. I get that we'll never escape the ever expanding glut of sexy-theme halloween costumes, but Ken Bone is a national treasure. Is nothing sacred anymore?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Sexy Harambe</u></b></span></h4>
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<a href="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/71p07kiHEoL._UL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/71p07kiHEoL._UL1500_.jpg" width="448" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00O28SI46?tag=cosmopolitan_auto-append-20&ascsubtag=cosmo.article.4372350" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>amazon.com</i></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">*<i>Sigh</i>* I guess not. Moving on...</span></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Christmas Story Bunny Dress</span></u></b></h4>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H7zfrkdFYPc/WkGZ11E2V5I/AAAAAAAAH1Q/2b4B2m7OK9kVq4YAh1Zs2136PYeFSxY_ACLcBGAs/s1600/christmas-story-bunny-dress-womens-costume-bc-806370.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H7zfrkdFYPc/WkGZ11E2V5I/AAAAAAAAH1Q/2b4B2m7OK9kVq4YAh1Zs2136PYeFSxY_ACLcBGAs/s400/christmas-story-bunny-dress-womens-costume-bc-806370.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<u><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="http://www.mooncostumes.com/item/43849" target="_blank">mooncostumes.com</a></i></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Part of what made Ralphie's costume in <i>A Christmas Story </i>so adorable/mortifying is that it was a onesie, which this clearly is not.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Also, the gloves completely cover your fingers, which you're going to need to pick up the giant inflatable ping pong ball and pelt the red cup guy. Once your head gets too hot and you take down the hood, you're just wearing a cheap-looking pink mini dress that cost $54.00. Nice work.</span></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Pumpkin Spice</span></u></b></h4>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uNT83Ou0ODg/WkGaEfuOzDI/AAAAAAAAH1U/h1G8TMng2MU5af8ywnao_-XXZXQlShNSgCLcBGAs/s1600/pumpkin%2Bspice.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uNT83Ou0ODg/WkGaEfuOzDI/AAAAAAAAH1U/h1G8TMng2MU5af8ywnao_-XXZXQlShNSgCLcBGAs/s400/pumpkin%2Bspice.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<u><a href="http://www.mooncostumes.com/item/37104" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>mooncostumes.com</i></span></a></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Look, I am an unabashed pumpkin spice fan. You can make fun of me all you want, but that stuff is delicious. What I am not a fan of, however, are food-based costumes that look like something from the closet of an interstellar prostitute.</span></div>
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<a href="http://yandycdn.com/HiRez/YJ_YDA101_EXLCST2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://yandycdn.com/HiRez/YJ_YDA101_EXLCST2014.jpg" height="640" width="354" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.yandy.com/Galaxy-Gremlin-Costume.php" target="_blank">yandy.com</a></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Unable to continue with this portion of the list, am I. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Let's move on to the one's who often suffer most from the entries on this list: The Children.</span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T1A7IkbFKq0/WkGaVcvXKdI/AAAAAAAAH1c/CM_v8rBvyDUbOfN54cZOzfjlVH6JmAovACLcBGAs/s1600/pbjc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="490" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T1A7IkbFKq0/WkGaVcvXKdI/AAAAAAAAH1c/CM_v8rBvyDUbOfN54cZOzfjlVH6JmAovACLcBGAs/s400/pbjc.jpg" width="391" /></a></div>
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<u><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.mooncostumes.com/item/44457" target="_blank">mooncostumes.com</a></span></i></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Remember my warning about the adult PB&J costume wearers getting shoved together? Then what the hell do you think is going to happen to a couple kids surrounded by their sugar-infused peers?</span></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Angry Birds Red Infant</span></u></b></h4>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2JCuDaCX9j4/WkGak3ctnWI/AAAAAAAAH1g/Nwr4AwtfAFEjn9aYMakDSaa7PE4LCkwjgCLcBGAs/s1600/angrybird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="380" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2JCuDaCX9j4/WkGak3ctnWI/AAAAAAAAH1g/Nwr4AwtfAFEjn9aYMakDSaa7PE4LCkwjgCLcBGAs/s400/angrybird.jpg" width="316" /></a></div>
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<u><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.mooncostumes.com/item/36849" target="_blank">mooncostumes</a></span></i></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It won't be me, but there's a decent chance that someone might throw your baby...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Angry Birds King Pig</u></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SRI4MOecQ6A/WkGauki3vOI/AAAAAAAAH1k/_cu11k-NkVIob6H6C-g5MgCemqICWeGjgCLcBGAs/s1600/kingpig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="252" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SRI4MOecQ6A/WkGauki3vOI/AAAAAAAAH1k/_cu11k-NkVIob6H6C-g5MgCemqICWeGjgCLcBGAs/s400/kingpig.jpg" width="286" /></a></div>
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<u><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="http://www.mooncostumes.com/item/36851" target="_blank">mooncostumes.com</a></i></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">...unless this kid shows up. Then your baby is definitely going airborne.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Cheerless Leader</u></b></span></h4>
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<a href="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/cheerless-leader-child-costume-bc-18594.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/cheerless-leader-child-costume-bc-18594.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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<u><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="http://www.buycostumes.com/p/18594/cheerless-leader-child-costume" target="_blank">buycostumes.com</a></i></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We get it. During your high school days, you hated the preps, jocks, cheerleaders, and sports in general. That's fine. It doesn't mean you have to use your child as a billboard to project your still simmering feelings.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Unless they picked this costume out themselves. Then you just need to stop letting them listen to so much Fall Out Boy.</span><br />
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<b><u><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Arahcnomania Child Morphsuit Costume</span></u></b></h4>
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<a href="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/arachnomania-child-morphsuit-costume-bc-810140.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/arachnomania-child-morphsuit-costume-bc-810140.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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<u><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="http://www.buycostumes.com/p/810140/arachnomania-child-morphsuit-costume" target="_blank">buycostumes.com</a></i></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you want your kid to feel soul-crushingly self conscious, then sending them out on Halloween in full body spandex should probably do the trick. Covering them in spiders is just redundant.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Whoopie Cushion Child Costume</u></b></span></div>
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<a href="http://images.costumeexpress.com/mgen/woopie-cushion-child-costume-cx-19212.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.costumeexpress.com/mgen/woopie-cushion-child-costume-cx-19212.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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<u><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="http://www.costumeexpress.com/p/19212/woopie-cushion-child-costume" target="_blank">costumeexpress.com</a></i></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Congratulations, kid. You could have pretended to be anything and decided to spend Halloween as a fake fart. Also, everyone is going to try and sit on you, including spider boy up there. That won't be awkward or anything.</span></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Where's Waldo Child's Costume Kit</span></u></b></h4>
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<a href="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/where-s-waldo-child-costume-kit-bc-70358.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/where-s-waldo-child-costume-kit-bc-70358.jpg?zm=800,800,1,0,0" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="http://www.buycostumes.com/p/70358/wheres-waldo-child-costume-kit" target="_blank">buycostumes.com</a></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Nothing necessarily wrong with the costume, but you only have yourself to blame when your child goes missing on purpose.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">That's all I can take for now. I hope you enjoyed this list and that it DID NOT inspire any ideas for you or your children this Halloween. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go see if I can find the Zombie Death Trooper Costume in an adult size.</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Don't judge.</span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sR7xmR2AcZs/WAvafwy4O9I/AAAAAAAAHgw/AJOgPDkUNrge-uyOLovKwNZEOtuGsZoUACLcB/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2016-10-22%2Bat%2B5.29.50%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sR7xmR2AcZs/WAvafwy4O9I/AAAAAAAAHgw/AJOgPDkUNrge-uyOLovKwNZEOtuGsZoUACLcB/s640/Screen%2BShot%2B2016-10-22%2Bat%2B5.29.50%2BPM.png" width="560" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.spirithalloween.com/product/kids-death-trooper-costume-star-wars/39504.uts?keyword=trooper&thumbnailIndex=1&Search=Find+It" target="_blank">spirithalloween.com</a></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 24px;"><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am directly, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px none; color: #004f8b; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">on Twitter</a>.</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;"><b><i>To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="color: #004f8b; outline: none;" target="_blank">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, a parent decides not to dress their kid up as a Minion.</i></b></span></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-57728904510308746712016-09-10T21:31:00.002-04:002018-01-01T15:18:00.296-05:00Big Blue Sadness: The State of University of Kentucky Football<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://2f13yq12csmv2yraq925m73i.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/We-Believe-No-You-Dont-MEME.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2f13yq12csmv2yraq925m73i.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/We-Believe-No-You-Dont-MEME.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Being a University of Kentucky Football fan sucks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Yeah, I know. Huge revelation there. But stick with me for a minute.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: large;">Ever wonder why UK football fans get more angry and despondent than most other fans of losing programs? I mean, we should be used to it, right? There are plenty of other bad teams out there. What makes us so special that we demand consistent excellence where none has existence for decades? Why keep getting our hopes up like Charlie Brown kicking a field goal with Lucy holding the football? Just accept that we aren't good and enjoy the rare years that we are. We've got a great basketball team, anyway, so why not just focus on that?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Believe me when I say that we've tried all those methods and then some with no effect. It would be infinitely easier and less painful if the team was consistently terrible, like <a href="http://www.espn.com/college-football/recap?gameId=400868983" target="_blank">they were today against Florida</a>. But part of what makes watching our team implode on national television especially painful is how close we've been in the past. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">No other Division I college football program in the country is more proficient at snatching defeat from the jaws of victory than the University of Kentucky. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Listed below are a few examples of my 'favorite' Kentucky losses from this century. I won't go back into the 1900's due to my relatively limited experience and the sake of my mental health.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">These are not just close or tough losses. Everyone has those. These are games were Kentucky had the win in hand, looked at it, and then politely handed it over to the other team. Join me now on a barefoot trip down memory lane paved with broken glass and stray Legos:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">*****</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">- <b>November 17, 2001</b>. The 2-7 Wildcats face off against the #6 Tennessee Volunteers and somehow build up a 3-touchdown lead by the second quarter. As if that weren't great enough, The UT Band was forced to watch it silently while not playing Rocky Top every two minutes! </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">Then things started to turn around. Going into the fourth, Kentucky still clung to a 1-touchdown advantage, but eventually </span><a href="http://scores.espn.go.com/ncf/playbyplay?gameId=213210096&period=0"><span style="line-height: 115%;">lost 38-35</span></a><span style="line-height: 115%;">.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">- <b>September 28, 2002. </b>A 4-0 team Kentucky travels down to the Swamp in Florida. They overcome a 19-0 deficit to actually take a 28-25 late over the No. 20 Gators in the third quarter. They ended up </span><a href="http://espn.go.com/ncf/playbyplay?gameId=222710057&period=0"><span style="line-height: 115%;">losing 41-34</span></a><span style="line-height: 115%;">. I may have cried. Don't judge me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">- <b>October 12, 2002. </b>The very next week, excitement buzzed around the campus as ESPN followed our team around school for a special feature. It all led up to a huge SEC showdown with South Carolina. Going into the fourth quarter, the Wildcats held a 1-touchdown advantage. You can probably guess by this point how the game ended; a </span><a href="http://espn.go.com/ncf/playbyplay?gameId=222850096&period=0"><span style="line-height: 115%;">16-12 loss for the Wildcats</span></a><span style="line-height: 115%;">.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; line-height: 115%;"><b style="line-height: 115%;">- November 9, 2002. </b><span style="line-height: 115%;">Commonly known as the Bluegrass Miracle, this game...yeah, I can't do this. That game deserves its own post. Just know that if you watch the video below, I was one of the students on the other side of the field, my hand on a goalpost and ready to climb. I still get sick thinking about it. </span><a href="http://www.espn.com/ncf/recap/_/id/223130096" style="line-height: 115%;" target="_blank">#16 LSU beats Kentucky (and my soul) 33-30</a><span style="line-height: 115%;">.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">- </span><b style="line-height: 115%;">September 30, 2003.</b><span style="line-height: 115%;"> Kentucky leads the #25 Florida Gators 20-9 with less then 7 minutes to go in the fourth quarter. It was Gator QB Chris Leak's first start. His dad had gone on national TV during the game and made a complete ass out of himself (I thought) by saying this was a good first start for his son since playing Kentucky wouldn't be too hard. Surely the forces of probability and karma would converge and result in a UK win, right? Nope. </span><a href="http://www.espn.com/ncf/recap/_/id/232700096" style="line-height: 115%;" target="_blank">We lost 24-21</a><span style="line-height: 115%;">.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>- November 3, 2003</b>. Kentucky and Arkansa battle it out through 7 overtimes, the longest game in NCAA history. We all knew what was coming, but did they really have to drag it out? <a href="http://www.espn.com/ncf/recap/_/id/233050096" target="_blank">UK loses 71-63</a>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">- <b>October 16, 2004</b>. If there's one thing Kentucky does well, it's make bad quarterbacks look good. The Gamecocks' fourth string (!) QB Mike Rathe leads his team from behind in the fourth quarter to <a href="http://www.espn.com/ncf/recap/_/id/242900096" target="_blank">beat the Cats 12-7</a>.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">- <b>November 25 2006. </b>Kentucky holds a bizarre 12-10 lead over Tennessee into the fourth quarter, which is summarily converted into a <a href="http://www.espn.com/ncf/recap/_/id/263292633" target="_blank">17-12 UT win</a>. After the game, Vols coach Phil Fulmer said "It's great to win when you don't play particularly well." Thanks for rubbing it in, jackass.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">- <b>November 25, 2007</b>. After a brilliant fourth quarter comeback, the Wildcats put themselves in position to beat #18 Tennessee. Unfortunately, those chances evaporated in the scoreless second overtime when Lones Seiber's 35-yard field goal was blocked. Two more OTs later, the <a href="http://www.espn.com/ncf/recap/_/id/273280096" target="_blank">Vols had defeated the Cats 52-50</a>.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 18.4px;"><b>*** LARGE GAP OF TIME FOR THE JOKER PHILLIPS YEARS ***</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 18.4px;"><b>(WHEN COMING CLOSE WAS THE LEAST OF OUR CONCERNS)</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 18.4px;"><b>- September 14, 2014. </b>Kentucky vs. Florida in the Swamp. Three overtimes.. And of course, this.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Hard to blame the team for that one. <a href="http://www.secsports.com/article/11526753/sec-statement-regarding-ot-kentucky-vs-florida" target="_blank">I don't care what the SEC says</a>. We got jobbed. But there's no asterisk or change forthcoming, so might as well accept it. <a href="http://www.secsports.com/article/11526753/sec-statement-regarding-ot-kentucky-vs-florida" target="_blank">Kentucky loses 36-30</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>- November 29, 2014</b>. With bowl eligibility and state bragging rights on the line, Kentucky jumped out to a 13-0 lead over #22 Louisville. UL's star quarterback, Reggie Bonnafan gets injured, forcing them to put in this kid...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">...Lexington native and Soulja Boy enthusiast, Kyle Bolin. Bolin still had a big chip on his shoulder over how <a href="http://www.kentucky.com/sports/college/acc/university-of-louisville/article44401740.html" target="_blank">UK's coaching staff completely bungled his recruiting process</a>. Perhaps that was what helped inspire him to completely go off and torch UK in the second half, leading to a <a href="http://www.espn.com/ncf/recap/_/id/400547785" target="_blank">44-40 UL win</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>- November 14, 2015</b>. When you can't score a touchdown from the goal line once, that's rough. When you can't do it twice, that's bad. When you can't do it twice against Vanderbilt, it's inexcusable and utterly depressing. <a href="http://www.espn.com/college-football/team/schedule/_/id/96/year/2015" target="_blank">Kentucky loses to Vandy 21-17</a>. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>- November 28, 2015</b>. With bowl eligibility and state bragging rights on the line, Kentucky jumped out to a 24-7 first half lead over Louisville. Once the third quarter started, the Wildcats engineered one of the most impressive second half collapses of all time, eventually <a href="http://www.espn.com/ncf/recap/_/id/400603916" target="_blank">losing the the Cardinals 38-24</a>. </span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">That's right. UK didn't score a single point in the third or fourth quarter. </span></span><br />
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</span></span> <span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">As if that weren't embarrassing enough, Bobby Petrino celebrated the win with a poorly executed dab.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Coach P Dabbb Game So Crazy❗️<a href="https://twitter.com/espn">@espn</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/ESPNCFB">@ESPNCFB</a> <a href="https://t.co/LbkJ6gDPp6">pic.twitter.com/LbkJ6gDPp6</a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">— Charles StandberryJR (@ssnug8) <a href="https://twitter.com/ssnug8/status/670713416038940672">November 28, 2015</a></span></blockquote>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Surely the coaches would never let the team suffer an indignity like this again, right? </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>- September 3, 2016</b>. Kentucky opens the season against Southern Mississippi, who just hired their embattled former offensive coordinator, Shannon Dawson. After struggling a bit in the first quarter, UK rolls to a 35-10 halftime lead...sort of. Southern Miss scored on a busted coverage right before the clock ran out to make it 35-17, but still, we were in good shape. Unfortunately, we are also Kentucky. <a href="http://www.espn.com/ncf/recap/_/id/400868973" target="_blank">Southern Miss torches the Cats in the second half for a 44-35 victory</a>.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">*****</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">There may be more this year, but only if we're lucky. The team looks so bad right now that we'll be lucky to get that close...and if we do, you can all but guarantee that Lucy won't have the laces down.</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Oh well. At least the NFL starts tomorrow. As an Atlanta Falcons fan with three fantasy football teams, that should still be relatively enjoyable.<br /><br />Right?</span></span><br />
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<i>Lones Seiber definitely had better hair than Chucky B.</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 24px;"><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am directly, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px none; color: #004f8b; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">on Twitter</a>.</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;"><b><i>To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="color: #004f8b; outline: none;" target="_blank">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, the Kentucky football program decides to rebuild again.</i></b></span></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-72102818952878391792016-09-04T20:25:00.001-04:002018-01-01T15:17:39.243-05:00Weird Crime: Killer Clowns from Greenville?<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Coulrophobia</b> | <i>coul·ro·pho·bia</i> | (noun): an abnormal or extreme fear of clowns.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Defecate</b> | <i>def·e·cate</i> | (verb): A bodily function that will likely occur in my pants if any part of this is true.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">When news starting coming out of Greenville last month that <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2016/08/31/us/creepy-clown-sightings-in-south-carolina-cause-a-frenzy.html?_r=0" target="_blank">clowns were trying to lure children into the woods</a>, it was easy to dismiss. While a child's welfare should never be taken lightly, the whole creepy clown story seemed a bit too on the nose. Surely this had to be the work some devious kid. They were probably up late and flipping through the program guide, saw the 1990 <i>It</i> miniseries, and got an idea for a prank that ended up going too far. They wouldn't have even needed a clown suit--just some solid rumor mongering and one false police report to give it the glossy sheen of legitimacy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The story also didn't seem to mesh very well with the whole clown horror motif. According to witnesses (most of whom refused to be identified), the clowns would try to draw the kids toward them by <a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/news/clown-sightings-south-carolina-creepy-details-released/" target="_blank">waving large amounts of cash</a> and flashing green lights (?) in their direction.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you're going to make up a story about a homicidal clown, then having him/her tempt kids with money is kind of lazy. Candy (<a href="http://www.vice.com/read/clowns-with-knives-are-apparently-terrorizing-kids-in-south-carolina-vgtrn" target="_blank">which they also allegedly offered</a>) might be cliche, but at least it lines up with the theme. Even Pennywise, the personification of all that is malevolent and evil, would have found this cash-for-souls method of entrapment to be beneath him.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Unfortunately, it's starting to look more and more like this isn't just a poorly conceived prank and/or a catastrophically bad viral marketing stunt.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Not only have the <a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/news/clowns-woods-south-carolina-another-child-reports/" target="_blank">clown sightings drastically increased</a>, but they are being <a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/news/clown-sightings-south-carolina-creepy-details-released/" target="_blank">witnessed by adults</a>, as well. Even more terrifying are reports that many of the clowns (allegedly armed with knives) have begun <a href="http://fox6now.com/2016/09/01/this-is-serious-creepy-clown-sightings-reported-in-second-community-in-south-carolina/" target="_blank">knocking on people's doors in the middle of the night--with chains.</a></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When my wife tried to point out that the door knocker could be a copycat or imposter clown, I calmly reminder her that IT'S STILL A FREAKING ARMED CLOWN AT SOMEONE'S DOOR IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In another reported incident, a woman looked up from doing her laundry to see a clown standing in her back yard. <a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/news/greenville-south-carolina-clown-sightings-the-clowning-around-needs-to-stop-chief/" target="_blank">Staring at her</a>. If that had been me, the pants I was wearing would have gone in the wash right then and there.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Things in Greenville have gone from nervously amusing to downright serious. One police chief has <a href="https://www.rt.com/usa/358081-clowns-reports-carolina-police/" target="_blank">vowed to arrest anyone found wandering around town in a clown suit</a> (which seems like a solid plan no matter what the circumstances are). As of now, however, they have no leads on who is doing this...except for a trail where many of the clown sightings have occurred, which (no joke) <a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/news/clown-sightings-south-carolina-creepy-details-released/" target="_blank">leads through the woods to an abandoned house</a>. If you are promiscuous teenager, then it's virtually guaranteed that having relations anywhere near that property will result in a gruesome end. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thankfully, no one has been hurt yet. Let's hope the police catch the folks behind these creepy shenanigans are caught soon...or at least before my scheduled 3-day trip to Greenville in March.</span></span><br />
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<i>Otherwise I'm commuting home every day.</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 24px;"><i><br /><br />Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am directly, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px none; color: #004f8b; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">on Twitter</a>.</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;"><b><i>To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="color: #004f8b; outline: none;" target="_blank">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, the clown under your bed decides not to eat your organs for dinner.</i></b></span></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-10594619566843061012014-06-26T15:31:00.000-04:002014-06-26T15:44:33.199-04:00Weird Crime: Supernatural Road Trip to Walmart<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Zv6JPcD2y3A/U6xz8OuJE6I/AAAAAAAAHUo/kFRbH-Kwga8/s1600/schoolbus.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Zv6JPcD2y3A/U6xz8OuJE6I/AAAAAAAAHUo/kFRbH-Kwga8/s1600/schoolbus.JPG" height="252" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>Panama City, Florida</b><br />
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In the early morning hours of June 24, 2014, employees of an area Walmart called police to report that a vehicle was awkwardly moving through their parking lot. This normally wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary (especially at a Walmart in Florida), but in this summertime instance, <a href="http://www.newsherald.com/news/crime-public-safety/12-year-old-takes-school-bus-for-joy-ride-1.337325?tc=cr" target="_blank">the vehicle was school bus</a>.<br />
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When police arrived on the scene, they pulled up behind the bus and turned on their emergency lights. To their amazement, a <a href="http://www.newsherald.com/news/crime-public-safety/superintendent-stolen-bus-a-valuable-lesson-1.338015" target="_blank">12-year-old kid named Michael Wade Propst</a> exited the vehicle. He quickly explained to the officers that the driver was actually a <a href="http://www.sun-sentinel.com/news/strange/floriduh-blog/sfl-flduh-school-bus-joy-ride-20140625,0,7560544.story" target="_blank">man named 'Constantine'</a> and they were just stopping for gas.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SpyD5_k_xOM/U6xwIhKAQuI/AAAAAAAAHUU/nWYxdpXR1pc/s1600/JohnConstantine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SpyD5_k_xOM/U6xwIhKAQuI/AAAAAAAAHUU/nWYxdpXR1pc/s1600/JohnConstantine.jpg" height="400" width="210" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">...along with some cigarettes...and maybe few mystical artifacts.</span></div>
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After that story didn't hold up, the boy finally admitted to stealing the bus, which he found at a bus driver's home 14 miles away (with <a href="http://www.newsherald.com/news/crime-public-safety/superintendent-stolen-bus-a-valuable-lesson-1.338015" target="_blank">the keys still inside it</a>). Security footage from the bus also showed that the kid was a <a href="http://freebeacon.com/culture/12-year-old-florida-boy-steals-school-bus-drives-14-miles-to-wal-mart/" target="_blank">pro at driving the thing</a>...except for the <a href="http://www.newser.com/story/189067/boy-12-takes-school-bus-for-14-mile-joy-ride.html" target="_blank">$2,000 worth of damage he caused during his trip</a>.</div>
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Michael Wade Propst was <a href="http://www.jcfloridan.com/news/crime_courts/article_ec59a9d6-fbdf-11e3-a704-0017a43b2370.html" target="_blank">arrested and charged</a> with grand theft over $100,000 and felony criminal mischief. He was taken to the department of Juvenile Justice for processing. When his mother was contacted by the police, she asked them to talk to her son because "<a href="http://www.newsherald.com/news/crime-public-safety/12-year-old-takes-school-bus-for-joy-ride-1.337325?tc=cr" target="_blank">she was not having any impact on him</a>."</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Hopefully, his time in juvie includes</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">lots of important life lessons...and a haircut.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 24px;"><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am more personally, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px none; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">on Twitter</a>.</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;"><b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="outline: none;" target="_blank">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, a kid bored during the summer decides to read a book instead of steal a school bus.</span></i></b></span></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-14672445987016100152014-06-19T16:05:00.002-04:002017-12-26T14:14:55.590-05:00Weird Crime: Shoot Me Once, Shame On Me<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NGn2kkwJkUQ/U6NBO2Jl8zI/AAAAAAAAHUE/iDWJpU3kX38/s1600/picardfacepalm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NGn2kkwJkUQ/U6NBO2Jl8zI/AAAAAAAAHUE/iDWJpU3kX38/s1600/picardfacepalm.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>Port Charlotte, Florida</b><br />
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To say that Florida resident Peter James Bonfiglio has a checkered past would be a gross understatement.<br />
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- In 2005, Peter was arrested for <a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/archives/news/teen-busted-fake-secret-service-ids-article-1.646174" target="_blank">making threats against the life of then President George W. Bush</a>. Then in 2006, the 19-year-old was busted for <a href="http://www.thesmokinggun.com/documents/crime/secret-service-busts-teen-again" target="_blank">manufacturing false secret service credentials</a>...including one that bore the likeness of the <a href="http://nypost.com/2006/05/23/prez-threat-nut-busted/" target="_blank">very agent who arrested him</a>.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lIpPcg4TvNc/U6M5TQVwR7I/AAAAAAAAHTE/sAe7FFVq74A/s1600/PeterBon1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lIpPcg4TvNc/U6M5TQVwR7I/AAAAAAAAHTE/sAe7FFVq74A/s1600/PeterBon1.jpg" width="259" /></a></div>
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- 2008 saw Peter losing the sideburns while gaining an <a href="http://hidden-past.com/PublicRecord/PETER-BONFIGLIO/10550664455610" target="_blank">arrest for larceny</a>.</div>
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- In 2009, Peter went from making threats to actually carrying them out. After a <a href="http://articles.sun-sentinel.com/2009-07-17/news/0907160454_1_police-officer-pellet-gun-police-cruiser" target="_blank">three hour standoff</a> with police, he <a href="http://www.wtvy.com/news/florida/headlines/51015852.html" target="_blank">threw a lit bottle</a> at a police cruiser and pointed a gun at them. The standoff resulted in him getting shot and arrested.</div>
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- In 2011, Peter brings back the sideburns while getting <a href="http://hidden-past.com/PublicRecord/PETER-BONFIGLIO/04515489251410" target="_blank">in trouble with the feds again</a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7otKnbUPHBc/U6M8I-xqCYI/AAAAAAAAHTg/wA68cFX8i00/s1600/PeterBron6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7otKnbUPHBc/U6M8I-xqCYI/AAAAAAAAHTg/wA68cFX8i00/s1600/PeterBron6.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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...<a href="http://hidden-past.com/PublicRecord/PETER-BONFIGLIO/1814117568349" target="_blank">twice</a>.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AbWEUM8iAGY/U6M71vhJhlI/AAAAAAAAHTY/g4D7zIofj30/s1600/PeterBron5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AbWEUM8iAGY/U6M71vhJhlI/AAAAAAAAHTY/g4D7zIofj30/s1600/PeterBron5.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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In 2013, he was busted for <a href="http://hidden-past.com/PublicRecord/PETER-BONFIGLIO/0534534911308" target="_blank">violating his parole</a> while operating a comb over.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lc-RLh1hI6E/U6M8e7hNmwI/AAAAAAAAHTo/zeUfIjaVWKk/s1600/PeterBon7.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lc-RLh1hI6E/U6M8e7hNmwI/AAAAAAAAHTo/zeUfIjaVWKk/s1600/PeterBon7.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
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His most recent arrests, however, may actually be the most absurd of them all. In 2013, Peter called police to report that someone hiding in the woods had shot him. The shooter <a href="http://www.nbc-2.com/story/25809491/man-shoots-himself-again-tries-to-blame-it-on-robber-again#.U6M27PldUb9" target="_blank">turned out to be him</a>.</div>
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The on June 18, 2014, Peter decided to try his luck at deceiving the police again. This time, he claimed that a woman he knew and a man he didn't had robbed jewelry from him at gunpoint before <a href="http://www.jrn.com/fox4now/news/Port-Charlotte-man-arrested-for-false-police-report-263649231.html" target="_blank">shooting him in the foot</a>.</div>
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When the police interviewed the woman, however, she was able to <a href="http://www.nbc-2.com/story/25809491/man-shoots-himself-again-tries-to-blame-it-on-robber-again#.U6MsKPldUb9" target="_blank">show them text messages</a> proving that Peter had actually approached her about buying jewelry from her. They also found the cab driver who drove the woman over to Peter's home, who <a href="http://www.news-press.com/story/news/crime/2014/06/18/man-claimed-to-be-robbed-and-shot-arrested-over-incident/10745901/" target="_blank">confirmed that she went there by herself</a> (and should really be more careful about who she visits alone).<br />
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As if all that wasn't bad enough, the woman also said that Peter's foot was <a href="http://www.nbc-2.com/story/25809491/man-shoots-himself-again-tries-to-blame-it-on-robber-again#.U6MsKPldUb9" target="_blank">already shot/injured when she got there</a>. Once again, the old "shoot yourself and call the police to blame it on someone else" trick had failed.<br />
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Peter Bonfiglio was <a href="http://www.news-press.com/story/news/crime/2014/06/18/man-claimed-to-be-robbed-and-shot-arrested-over-incident/10745901/" target="_blank">arrested and charged</a> with filing a false police report. There were probably some other things they could've/should've tacked on as well (probation violation, illegal possession of a firearm, etc), but the mugshot below might show why they didn't.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-teO4q0xlt0U/U6M_5xgBwXI/AAAAAAAAHT0/x59nDlt06pY/s1600/PeterBon8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-teO4q0xlt0U/U6M_5xgBwXI/AAAAAAAAHT0/x59nDlt06pY/s1600/PeterBon8.jpg" width="313" /></a></div>
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Holy hell...I'm not saying I've aged all that well, but the change from 19 to 27 for Peter is like something from a really bad (or particularly bad) episode of Cold Case.</div>
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Either the police just felt bad for him or they've given up charging him with stuff. But the fact that he somehow keeps getting access to guns is yet another reason that The Bugs Bunny plan for Florida looks like a better idea every day.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 24px;"><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am more personally, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px none; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">on Twitter</a>.</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;"><b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="outline: none;" target="_blank">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, Florida gets a little bit closer to breaking free of the southeastern United States.</span></i></b></span></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-70631868536061908642014-06-16T04:37:00.002-04:002014-06-17T23:24:46.674-04:00Not in My Write Mind: Rumble in The Writer's Arena, Part 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kgk0eb0SpOs/U56XwZwXG3I/AAAAAAAAHSM/HwSnhvaG7IM/s1600/WritersArena.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kgk0eb0SpOs/U56XwZwXG3I/AAAAAAAAHSM/HwSnhvaG7IM/s1600/WritersArena.png" height="90" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">'Not In My Write Mind' features trials and tales from my quest to go from a mediocre writer to a published mediocre writer. Please feel free to share in my struggle and laugh at my pain.</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: #004f8b; font-family: inherit; outline: none;"><a href="http://www.ramblingbeachcat.com/2014/06/not-in-my-write-mind-rumble-in-writers_12.html" target="_blank">Click here to read Part 2</a></span></i></b></div>
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As my day in the <a href="http://thewritersarena.com/" target="_blank">Human Echoes Podcast Writer's Arena</a> edges closer, I have finally begun to construct my story. There are a few key elements, both large and small, that will go into creating my masterpiece and/or polishing this turd.</div>
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Let's start with the small stuff, first:</div>
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<b>1. Coffee and isolation</b>. </div>
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I tend to write a lot at Starbucks. Yes, I know that makes me sound like a douchey walking cliche, but they do have great coffee. They also provide a place where I can shut off the rest of the world without feeling badly about it.</div>
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When I write at home, I tend to shut out my wonderful wife Karen and our three very needy dogs. I can get very prickly when Karen dares to do such things as ask me how my day was or if I feel like going out for dinner. This makes me feel like a worse person than I already am. At Starbucks, however, I don't mind shutting out the hipsters, weird old dudes, or other wannabe writers like myself.</div>
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<b>2. Music</b></div>
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Music can be a great help for pushing you through a small creative slump. The particular effectiveness of various musical genres, however, tends to vary greatly from person to person (I came up with the idea for my current story when '<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5wBTdfAkqGU&feature=kp" target="_blank">California Love' by 2pac</a> came up on Pandora, for what it's worth).</div>
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The two main sources of 'writing music' I like most are:</div>
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-<u><a href="http://www.twostepsfromhell.com/" target="_blank">Two Steps from Hell</a></u>. Composers of incredibly epic orchestral music that you have probably heard in a million different movie trailers. Below is one of my favorites.</div>
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- <u><a href="http://www.samcardon.com/" target="_blank">Sam Cardon</a></u>, specifically his work on the movie <u>The Work and the Glory: American Zion</u>. It's a pro-Mormon movie about Joseph Smith...so yeah, not something I expected to ever watch or enjoy. But a student of mine had a role in it and their family asked me to attend the premiere with them.<br />
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Not only was the film surprisingly good, but the quick track below caught my attention and led me to listen to more of Cardon's work.<br />
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Now onto the big stuff:<br />
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Anyone who knows me is well aware that I am a HUGE fan of author Chuck Wendig. Not only do I absolutely love his work, but he is constantly dispensing valuable writing advice in <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Ways-Write-Harder-Chuck-Wendig-ebook/dp/B00JV8CDDO/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1402904111&sr=1-3&keywords=chuck+wendig" target="_blank">various books</a>, his <a href="https://twitter.com/ChuckWendig" target="_blank">Twitter account</a>, and his blog, <a href="http://terribleminds.com/">Terribleminds.com</a>.<br />
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I don't consider myself a good writer yet, but do think that I suck a whole lot less than I used to thanks to much of Wendig's indirect tutelage. When I'm not reading one of his excellent, urban fantasy novels, I am often reading his advice on how to continue improving my craft through disciplined methods rather than just 'trying harder.'<br />
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In essence, Chuck Wendig is my writing Yoda.<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">"Excuses for not finishing your work, you must stop making."</span></i></div>
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There's lots of his advice I'll be using (along with various other tools of the trade), but here are two of my favorite nuggets of Wendig Wisdom:</div>
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<b>1. A theme</b></div>
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<a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2011/09/26/25-things-writers-should-know-about-theme/" target="_blank">Your work must have a theme</a>. I know that seems simple, but you'd be surprised how much stuff we watch or read doesn't have any real theme at all. It's just a bunch of actions scenes smashed together. If you want your writing to be something that people actually remember, it needs to have a primary message or idea behind plot and characters. It can be subtle or at the very forefront of the story. It can develop as you work on the tale or it can be your starting point. But it absolutely must be there.</div>
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Reaching the end of the universe (which is the story prompt for this battle in The Writer's Arena) is rife with good thematic material, so that shouldn't be a problem.</div>
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<b>2. Question-driven plotting</b>.</div>
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Your story should constantly have the reader asking '<a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2014/02/25/the-question-mark-is-shaped-like-a-hook-question-driven-plotting/" target="_blank">And then what happened</a>?' as they move from scene to scene. The 'end of the universe' presents a small problem since it's 'the end' and all, but I think I'll be able to manage it.</div>
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There's lots more good stuff to learn from Mr. Wendig (especially on character creation), but all this talk about writing stories has me actually wanting to...you know...write a story. Go check out his words of wisdom for yourself; you'll thank me when you're done in a few months.</div>
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As for me, it's time to crank up the music and get this story crackin'.</div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">...while hoping that this man doesn't </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 24px;"><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am more personally, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px none; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">on Twitter</a>.</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;"><b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="outline: none;" target="_blank">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, I get one step closer to breaking down and purchasing Photoshop.</span></i></b></span></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-46172304921431888422014-06-13T02:27:00.001-04:002014-06-13T02:27:05.261-04:00Weird Crime: Paying By Lobster...How Does That Work?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gCxkDdnypIk/U5qU4btRk-I/AAAAAAAAHRs/aZNvL7eAmcY/s1600/lobstermoney.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gCxkDdnypIk/U5qU4btRk-I/AAAAAAAAHRs/aZNvL7eAmcY/s1600/lobstermoney.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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</b> Around 2:00 PM on June 11, 2014, 30-year-old <a href="http://www.clickorlando.com/news/woman-stole-lobster-tails-by-stuffing-them-in-her-pants-deland-police-say/26456380" target="_blank">Nichole Reed</a> attempted a daring heist. She entered a nearby Publix grocery store, went back to the seafood section, and proceeded to <a href="http://www.wesh.com/news/police-woman-concealed-7-stolen-lobster-tails-in-pants/26457604#!YhHRA" target="_blank">shove 7 lobster tails (valued at $11.99 a piece) down the front of her pants</a>.<br />
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I refer to her theft as "daring" because she did it <a href="http://www.clickorlando.com/news/woman-stole-lobster-tails-by-stuffing-them-in-her-pants-deland-police-say/26456380" target="_blank">in full view of Publix employees</a> and Publix security cameras...which gives us the chance to watch the crime (and marvel at an over-sized pair of jean shorts) in the embedded video below.<br />
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Reed walked out of the store without paying, prompting the Publix loss prevention officer to bravely charge towards a telephone and call the police. ALLEGEDLY, his description of her somehow led officers to Nichole Reed's home, where the loss prevention officer positively identified Nichole as the lobster looter. My guess, however, is that she already had a bit of a reputations in the area from her <a href="http://www.clickorlando.com/news/woman-stole-lobster-tails-by-stuffing-them-in-her-pants-deland-police-say/26456380" target="_blank">six prior arrests</a>.</div>
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At least Nichole was honest, though. She immediately confessed to the crime, explaining to the police that she'd intended to trade the lobster tails for <a href="http://www.clickorlando.com/news/woman-stole-lobster-tails-by-stuffing-them-in-her-pants-deland-police-say/26456380" target="_blank">dilauded (prescription painkillers) or food from a Chinese buffet</a>.</div>
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It's at this point that the story really throws me for a loop. I can almost understand someone trading delicious seafood for drugs. But just how shady is a Chinese restaurant that will exchange all the General Tso's chicken you can eat for stolen lobster tails? I mean, seriously...how does that deal even get set up in first place? </div>
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And by the way, Nichole...YOU'VE GOT (or had) FREAKING LOBSTER TAILS! Boil some water and skip the MSG-pedaling middleman.</div>
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The whole incident had gone from desperate to downright weird, so I began looking for more information about Nichole. I eventually found <a href="https://www.facebook.com/nichole.reed.186" target="_blank">her Facebook page</a>, where Nichole lists her occupation as 'eating them' at The Dark Carnival....which is the annual gathering of Juggalos...which actually causes all of this to make a lot more sense.</div>
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Nichole Reed was <a href="http://www.orlandosentinel.com/news/local/breakingnews/os-publix-lobster-pants-shoplifter-arrest-20140612,0,4598603.story" target="_blank">arrested and charged</a> with theft from a merchant. As of Thursday, she was still a resident of the Volusia County Branch Jail.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g-9cJG1vzM0/U5qS1ljYixI/AAAAAAAAHRg/rKI3--g6dj4/s1600/NicholeReed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g-9cJG1vzM0/U5qS1ljYixI/AAAAAAAAHRg/rKI3--g6dj4/s1600/NicholeReed.jpg" height="400" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">That's the face of a woman who definitely does not <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_-agl0pOQfs&feature=kp" target="_blank">believe in miracles</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 24px;"><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am more personally, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px none; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">on Twitter</a>.</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;"><b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="outline: none;" target="_blank">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, a woman looking to score pain pills with a side of pot stickers decides to go out for seafood, instead.</span></i></b></span></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-55255029272588801372014-06-12T02:36:00.000-04:002014-06-16T20:56:22.613-04:00Not In My Write Mind: Rumble In the Writers Arena, Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="line-height: 20px;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">'Not In My Write Mind' features trials and tales from my quest to go from a mediocre writer to a published mediocre writer. Please feel free to share in my struggle and laugh at my pain.</span></i></b></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 20px;"><b><i><a href="https://www.blogger.com/.http://www.ramblingbeachcat.com/2014/06/not-in-my-write-mind-rumble-in-writers.html" target="_blank">Click here to read Part 1</a></i></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">Today, I began the process (again) of trying to figure out what my story for <a href="http://thewritersarena.com/" target="_blank">The Writer's Arena</a> would be. As you might recall, the prompt for it read:</span></span></div>
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<i style="background-color: white; color: #404040; font-family: Arial, Georgia, 'Times New Roman Times', serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">..this challenge asks the question, what happens when you reach the edge? What happens when you stare beyond the bounds of reality and find something else staring back at you?</i></blockquote>
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To help spur me on in my pursuit of glory, I got a very artfully crafted and quasi-threatening letter in the mail from <a href="https://twitter.com/tsouthcotte" target="_blank">Tony Southcotte</a> himself.<br />
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It was basically a repeating of the prompt/challenge, but this time in a physical (i.e. real) form. It's always nice to get mail, especially when its something cool like this.</div>
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Unfortunately, I still wasn't sure about what tale I was going to tell. It was time take a walk with the dogs and think things over. After about two miles, a few ideas had popped into my head...most of them terrible. The good ones, on the other hand, all appeared to have been previously taken.</div>
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<b><u>Me</u></b>: What if the a spaceship goes to the end of the galaxy and finds some sort of hellish dimension...or even hell itself...which causes the entire crew to go crazy?</div>
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<b><u>Brain</u></b>: That's basically the plot to 'Event Horizon.'</div>
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<b><u>Me</u></b>: Crap! Alright, what if I go in a completely different direction? Maybe it could be a comedy about some sort of bar or rest stop at the end of the universe...</div>
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<b><u>Brain</u></b>: Second Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy book.</div>
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<b><u>Me</u></b>: SON OF A...okay, this might be a little out of my wheelhouse, but perhaps I should go with a bigger scope. A spaceship gets to the end of the universe and is greeted by God or some type of god-like entity. The spaceship's crew grapple with how their view an all powerful creator differs with what is before them...or if it really is a 'god' at all.</div>
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<b><u>Brain</u></b>: Yeah...Star Trek V and Star Trek: The Next Generation S1, E8.</div>
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Maybe my ideas aren't exactly like those, but they still felt far too derivative. It's perfectly fine to take inspiration from something, but at the end of the day, you need to tell your own story. </div>
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I'm also struggling with the fact that the vastness of space isn't an area in which I'm very comfortable setting a story. I prefer urban and claustrophobic over contained expanse. How the heck can I tell a story about the end of the universe and still create that type of environment. I mean, I guess they could *<i>redacted for story secrecy</i>*. That would actually make for a pretty cool movie or book, especially if they added in *<i>redacted for story secrecy</i>.* Oh, and it would be so cool if *<i>redacted for story secrecy</i>*. Man, I would love to read that...</div>
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...wait a second. I think an idea idea just officially popped into my head. Bits a pieces from different basic/generic plot points begin to pull together with a mix of my own characters, story arc desires, and direction. I stop walking as scenes of a story I haven't read or seen before...a story I would very much like to read or see...begin to take shape inside my brain.</div>
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It's nestled there in my head now, inspired by a number of factors:</div>
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1.) Previous stories I have enjoyed and experienced.</div>
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2.) The fact that I haven't seen a story exactly like it (and if I wasn't writing it, I would really want to read it).</div>
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3.) A looming deadline.</div>
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Now for all I know, this story idea could be complete crap. That's not me trying to be graciously self-deprecating, by the way. This thing may very well suck; I've had plenty of bad ideas (and resulting stories) before. But it's my idea, gosh darn it, and I'm going to see it through.</div>
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Time to head over to Starbucks, order a venti cup of delicious liquid inspiration, and hope that the old guy who watches Youtube videos on his phone with the sound turned up finally bought a set of headphones.</div>
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<i>Let's do this.</i></div>
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<i><a href="http://www.ramblingbeachcat.com/2014/06/not-in-my-write-mind-rubble-in-writers.html" target="_blank">Click here for Part 3</a></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 24px;"><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am more personally, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px none; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">on Twitter</a>.</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;"><b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="outline: none;" target="_blank">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, I get a new story idea (which may or may not be complete rubbish).</span></i></b></span></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-50819216742032443472014-06-10T19:40:00.002-04:002014-06-12T20:42:56.582-04:00Not In My Write Mind: Rumble In the Writers Arena, Part 1<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XGujzJL2XXU/U5eHcQqXBuI/AAAAAAAAHP0/642FXiZn5Bw/s1600/WritersArena.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XGujzJL2XXU/U5eHcQqXBuI/AAAAAAAAHP0/642FXiZn5Bw/s1600/WritersArena.png" height="90" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">'Not In My Write Mind' features trials and tales from my quest to go from a mediocre writer to a published mediocre writer. Please feel free to share in my struggle and laugh at my pain.</span></i></b></div>
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One of the many places that I send off my stories to be viciously savaged by editors is the <a href="http://humanechoes.com/" target="_blank">Human Echoes Podcast</a>. They have periodic prompts for 1,000 word stories, the winner of which will have their tale turned into a fantastic audio broadcast, published on their site, paid $10, and bask in self affirming glory.</div>
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Human Echoes also has an excellent and enjoyable podcast that people actually listen to. This means that when they offer 'exposure', people will actually read/see your work rather than what other publishers mean with the dreaded 'e-word' (i.e. getting 'exposed' to the ass end of the publishing business).</div>
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Their prompts also tend to be the type that really get me going. I love to create worlds and characters, but I often find that I need some sort of spark to get jump started into it. Maybe I'm just not good enough at coming up with things, but I prefer to think of my problem as being more in line with the illustration below by <a href="http://theoatmeal.com/comics/making_things" target="_blank">Matthew Inman of The Oatmeal</a>.</div>
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That comic is pretty accurate, but Inman is comparing the creative process to regular work, while I'm comparing to the creative process to my own feeble limitations. I also don't consider creative writing to be 'soul sucking' (quite the opposite, actually) and it's definitely not easy.</div>
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But when I get cool prompts like 'What if earth was invaded by aliens in ancient times' or 'What do the monsters of our nightmares fear themselves'....or the current one, <a href="http://humanechoes.com/submissions/" target="_blank">DINOPUNK DEATHMATCH!</a>...my imagination goes into overdrive with possibilities. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Yeah...I can work with that.</i></span></div>
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As of May 8, 2014, I had submitted to them twice...and been rejected. Both times, however, I was contacted personally and told that my story made the finals and was greatly enjoyed by their staff.</div>
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For any publishers out there, you have no idea how much a personal letter (especially one with some kind words and/or constructive criticism) can go towards lessening the sting of rejection. Look, $10 isn't a lot, but those letters made me want to submit to Human Echoes again more than some other higher paying markets that repeatedly punch my soul with form notices.</div>
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Within my second rejection letter, <a href="https://twitter.com/tsouthcotte" target="_blank">Tony Southcotte</a>, the mastermind behind HEP, asked me about taking part in a new project on their site. I expressed my interest with the usual flair and professionalism that many have come to expect from me.</div>
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He gave me the pitch for <a href="http://thewritersarena.com/" target="_blank">The Writer's Arena</a>, which is what this week's series of blog posts will be about. Here it is in Tony's words (read through a Darth Vader mask).</div>
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<i><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">I want to offer you a consolation prize though. Something that is new, fun, and possibly right up your alley. We've been building and piloting a new competition called The Writers Arena. <a href="http://thewritersarena.com/" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">thewritersarena.com</a> is now up, and though we are tweeking it and making the art, it will be chugging along here soon. We will be having a weekly head to head match to see who can make a better short story off of an unknown prompt.</span></b></i></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">You would be going up against one of the podcast crew, which is Al, Joseph, Danny, and Tony (myself). I've been impressed with your writing. I've seen your ability to hit deadlines and be persistent. You've been on the cusp of winning more times than I can even remember. I think you have what it takes for this contest.</span></b></i></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">We would give a few weeks warning, then you would have around 10 days to finish the prompt. It would be judged by our editors for the first two votes, and the third would be from the audience.</span></b></i></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">We would want you document your trials, tribulations, etc, in coming up with a story. Just a few tweets or a blog post. In the end, there would be a winner, but we want to keep it gracious and friendly.</span></b></i></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me know if this is something you want to be a part of.</span></b></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I said yes, of course...AND submitted what I think/hope is a great story for their 'DinoPunk DeathMatch' submission call.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A few weeks later, I was informed that I'd be going up against <a href="https://twitter.com/josephdevon" target="_blank">Joseph Devon</a> in early June. We'd have up to 4,000 words to write a tale, which will then be voted on by the editorial team and the readers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've never met Joseph, but I'm sure he's a perfectly nice guy. As far as this contest goes, however, I plan to smack him so hard that his momma feels it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i>See the blood on your logo there, Joseph? That's gonna be yours...</i></span></div>
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Yesterday evening, I got the prompt. It reads:</div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>"Space is big. You just won't believe how vastly, hugely, mind- bogglingly big it is. I mean, you may think it's a long way down the road to the chemist's, but that's just peanuts to space."</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Or, at least, so we've been led to believe. But this challenge asks the question, what happens when you reach the edge? What happens when you stare beyond the bounds of reality and find something else staring back at you?</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>This is a contest that came from the humble beginnings of the Human Echoes Podcast, and unfortunately we couldn't crown a winner. I've always wanted to see this one redone, and the Arena is the perfect place for it.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>You have 4,000 words or less. Use them wisely!</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>You have until June 18th to complete this, and one edit after that due on the 23rd.</i></span></span></div>
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Now begins the fun part...mostly. As soon as I received the prompt, my brain began what I like to call The Writer's Dance. In this instance, the steps were as follows:</div>
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<b><i>- OH, I'VE SO GOT THIS! End of the world, cosmic entities...that stuff is write up my Lovecraftian alley!</i></b></div>
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<b><i>- Heh...'up my Lovecraftian alley'. That made me laugh....but come to think of it, I do use Lovecraftian elements in my stories quite a lot. Maybe I should try branching out.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>- Why am I so dependent on another author's work for my world building? Maybe it's because I suck.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>- No, I don't suck. I can totally come up with something fresh and original. And even if I do use Lovecraftian elements, I can still make it good.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>- *Stares at the computer screen for a few minutes*</i></b></div>
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<b><i>- I'm a terrible writer...maybe I'll just go see what's on Netflix or take a nap.</i></b></div>
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This violent collision of conflicting emotions and thoughts can be summed up quite nicely in the following graph:</div>
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So yeah...still not sure what I'm going to write about. But you can be darn sure that the looming deadline will spur me into squeezing something out of my brain soon.</div>
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Join me here next time as the idea for my story (hopefully) takes shape. Maybe it will still end up being something steeped Lovecraft mythos. Perhaps it will be piece that deals with the intersection of religion and science. </div>
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Or I might just write a story about farts...who knows...</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>"I better get royalties for this one, earth dweller!"</i></span><br />
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<i><a href="http://www.ramblingbeachcat.com/2014/06/not-in-my-write-mind-rumble-in-writers_12.html" target="_blank">Click here for Part 2</a></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 24px;"><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am more personally, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px none; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">on Twitter</a>.</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;"><b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="outline: none;" target="_blank">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, I get a new idea for a story...or find another show I need to catch up on with Netflix.</span></i></b></span></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-7959828492712412972014-06-03T09:22:00.000-04:002014-06-03T09:22:15.422-04:00Weird Crime: Hog Wild and Hopelessly Lost<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(photo @ <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Bearded_Pigs2.jpg" target="_blank">wikipeida</a>)</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TRGng4hX0Bo/U43LIGLUO-I/AAAAAAAAHPg/2LvwKwLOs6U/s1600/Pigs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TRGng4hX0Bo/U43LIGLUO-I/AAAAAAAAHPg/2LvwKwLOs6U/s1600/Pigs.jpg" height="326" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>Chuluota, Florida</b><br />
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In the early morning hours of May 29, 2014, 24-year-old <a href="http://www.mysuncoast.com/news/state/man-with-a-warrant-arrested-after-calling---/article_f33a5c10-e761-11e3-8c2d-001a4bcf6878.html" target="_blank">Andrew Joffe</a> was lost on a dark highway (on foot) and being chased by pigs. That wasn't a derogatory term for the police, by the way...he was allegedly being <a href="http://time.com/2809080/florida-gps-thief-calls-police/" target="_blank">pursued by wild boars</a>.<br />
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Fortunately, Andrew had a cell phone he could use to call the police for assistance. After dialing 911, officers converged on his location and presumably chased off the rampaging bacon. They also discovered that Andrew had an outstanding warrant for <a href="http://www.clickorlando.com/news/lost-central-florida-man-calls-911-gets-arrested/26231714" target="_blank">driving with a suspended license</a>.<br />
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Now at this point, Andrew's decision to call the authorities while being a wanted man might still make sense. Even if Andrew wasn't actually being chased by wild animals, he was lost on a dark highway in the middle of the night. I mean sure, he had a phone, but maybe it didn't have a GPS function.<br />
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When the police officers searched his backpack, however, they found a plethora of stolen items....<a href="http://www.sun-sentinel.com/news/strange/floriduh-blog/sfl-flduh-gps-lost-20140531,0,7552762.story" target="_blank">including a handheld GPS system</a>.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-liRjT_D4w4s/U43ImNN7KyI/AAAAAAAAHPM/AjuyW8_oU10/s1600/picardfacepalm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-liRjT_D4w4s/U43ImNN7KyI/AAAAAAAAHPM/AjuyW8_oU10/s1600/picardfacepalm.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></a></div>
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Andrew Joffe was <a href="http://www.clickorlando.com/news/lost-central-florida-man-calls-911-gets-arrested/26231714" target="_blank">arrested</a> and taken to jail in Bartow, Florida. No charges are listed, but one can assume they included theft along with being a complete dumbass.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3rMZ6wHgvng/U43IzZCOVlI/AAAAAAAAHPU/bVB4J-PjUFA/s1600/andrewjoffe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3rMZ6wHgvng/U43IzZCOVlI/AAAAAAAAHPU/bVB4J-PjUFA/s1600/andrewjoffe.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>....but at least he'll be safe from the deadly pigs of the night.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 24px;"><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am more personally, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px none; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">on Twitter</a>.</i></b> </span></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-20264275355275186192014-04-28T20:57:00.001-04:002014-04-28T20:57:03.176-04:00Weird Crime: Golden Arch<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(photo @ <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Harlem_Micky_Dz.jpg" target="_blank">wikipedia</a>)</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LUFO7Pe6pNM/U17z6lcyEdI/AAAAAAAAHNs/uq7vHufIbfA/s1600/McDonalds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LUFO7Pe6pNM/U17z6lcyEdI/AAAAAAAAHNs/uq7vHufIbfA/s1600/McDonalds.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<b>Dover, Pennsylvania</b><br />
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A little after midnight on April 27, 2014, 30-year-old <a href="http://fox43.com/2014/04/28/dover-woman-tries-to-crawl-into-drive-thru-window-urinates-in-mcdonalds-parking-lot/#axzz30CguYXng" target="_blank">Tammy Dawn Clement</a> decided to attempt something at McDonald's that most of us want to try, but never have: Walking through the drive-though.<br />
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Okay, maybe I'm the only one without enough balls to have ever done this. But when I go to Mickey D's (or any other fast food location), it's because I'm desperately hungry. Any tale I've heard about those brave enough to order in the drive through on foot have ended with them being refused service.<br />
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For Tammy, <a href="http://www.pennlive.com/midstate/index.ssf/2014/04/police_woman_urinated_in_mcdon.html" target="_blank">that's exactly what happened</a>. Her reaction to this perceived injustice, however, is where things really got kicked up a notch. After <a href="http://www.yorkdispatch.com/breaking/ci_25650080/police-dover-woman-tried-crawl-through-drive-thru" target="_blank">trying to climb through the ordering window</a> to exact revenge on her minimum wage adversary (and failing miserably), she proceeded to pull down her pants and <a href="http://www.ydr.com/crime/ci_25646246/police-woman-spits-at-police-during-arrest-dover" target="_blank">urinate in the parking lot</a>.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> <a href="http://epicwtfs.com/post/30460138143/mcoccupied" target="_blank">epicwtfs.com</a></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p4D7Dpv0C2o/U172BcnZ7XI/AAAAAAAAHN8/hm0bDHi_yao/s1600/RonaldBathroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p4D7Dpv0C2o/U172BcnZ7XI/AAAAAAAAHN8/hm0bDHi_yao/s1600/RonaldBathroom.jpg" height="320" width="287" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">...which still isn't as horrifying as what</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> you might see inside one of their bathrooms.</span></div>
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There are probably much worse things that have taken place on the asphalt surrounding a McDonald's location, but Tammy's actions were still more than enough to warrant a call to the police. Before they got there, however, she <a href="http://www.ydr.com/local/ci_25646246/police-woman-spits-at-police-during-arrest-dover" target="_blank">beat a hasty retreat</a>...to a convenience store right across the road.<br />
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When officers arrived at the store, they heard a <a href="http://www.yorkdispatch.com/breaking/ci_25650080/police-dover-woman-tried-crawl-through-drive-thru" target="_blank">loud banging noise</a> coming from the women's restroom...which very well could have been the sound of Tammy's remaining inhibitions and good sense aggressively clogging a toilet.<br />
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While the police attempted to take her into custody, she spat at them so vigorously that a <a href="http://www.ydr.com/local/ci_25646246/police-woman-spits-at-police-during-arrest-dover" target="_blank">shield was required</a> to protect the officers from her toxic, crazy-lady saliva. Once Tammy was finally placed inside the police cruiser, she proceeded to bang her head against the inside of it. She also continued to spit at the officers so much that they finally had to <a href="http://www.yorkdispatch.com/breaking/ci_25650080/police-dover-woman-tried-crawl-through-drive-thru" target="_blank">put a mask on her</a>.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dY5_TMHqojc/U171Dt6H8QI/AAAAAAAAHN0/Ygo5nM6bugs/s1600/TammyClementMask.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dY5_TMHqojc/U171Dt6H8QI/AAAAAAAAHN0/Ygo5nM6bugs/s1600/TammyClementMask.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">"I ate his Big Mac with some french fries...and a diet </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> soda in which I'd deposited a mixture of mucus and saliva."</span></div>
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Once Tammy arrived at the police station (after <a href="http://www.yorkdispatch.com/breaking/ci_25650080/police-dover-woman-tried-crawl-through-drive-thru" target="_blank">allegedly trying to fake a seizure</a>) she was <a href="http://fox43.com/2014/04/28/dover-woman-tries-to-crawl-into-drive-thru-window-urinates-in-mcdonalds-parking-lot/#axzz30CguYXng" target="_blank">charged</a> with resisting arrest, disorderly conduct, and public drunkenness.<br />
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She was later released on <a href="http://www.ydr.com/local/ci_25646246/police-woman-spits-at-police-during-arrest-dover" target="_blank">$5,000 bond</a>. No current information on her court date (which should be a doozy) has been released at this time.<br />
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It should also be noted that this whole incident started with Tammy <a href="http://www.yorkdispatch.com/breaking/ci_25650080/police-dover-woman-tried-crawl-through-drive-thru" target="_blank">getting out of a car</a> to walk through the drive-though...so I'm totally calling her decision to order on foot being the result of a dare.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iBcqqKfOx0o/U17w9QADubI/AAAAAAAAHNg/4A1hs8_ASH4/s1600/TammyClement.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iBcqqKfOx0o/U17w9QADubI/AAAAAAAAHNg/4A1hs8_ASH4/s1600/TammyClement.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Actual Mug Shot. No Mask, No Sense.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 24px;"><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am more personally, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px none; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">on Twitter</a>.</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;"><b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="outline: none;" target="_blank">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, a crazy woman decides to get her late night meals at Taco Bell, where they probably won't care what you do.</span></i></b></span></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-38071083934641926712014-04-23T09:46:00.000-04:002014-04-23T09:46:03.275-04:00Weird Crime Wednesday: 'Possibly' Not The Best Way To Get Home<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(photo @ <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:DNK_ambulance_A6.jpg" target="_blank">wikipedia</a>)</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2NP_z5TgmCM/U1fDV5NA1SI/AAAAAAAAHNQ/wA3vMFmw-7I/s1600/Ambulance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2NP_z5TgmCM/U1fDV5NA1SI/AAAAAAAAHNQ/wA3vMFmw-7I/s1600/Ambulance.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>Indian River County, Florida</b><br />
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In the early morning hours of April 6, 2014, an ambulance taking their patient to the hospital noticed something odd: A man, 20-year-old <a href="http://www.wptv.com/news/region-indian-river-county/vero-beach/timothy-torfonz-baker-jr-pantsless-man-busted-after-mooching-ambulance-ride-in-vero-beach" target="_blank">Timothy Torfonz Baker Jr</a>, had hitched a ride on the rear railing of their vehicle. When they came to a stop, he got down and ran in front of them, effectively blocking the roadway.<br />
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As if that wasn't weird enough, Timothy also <a href="http://blogs.tcpalm.com/off_the_beat_will_greenlee_blog/2014/04/a-man-accused-of-hitching.html" target="_blank">wasn't wearing any pants</a>. When approached by the EMS workers, he then began insisting that they were in a completely different county.<br />
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Police were called to the scene. Once they arrived, Timothy admitted to the officers that earlier in the evening, he'd partaken of alcohol, marijuana, and <a href="http://www.sun-sentinel.com/news/strange/floriduh-blog/sfl-flduh-pantless-ambulance-20140422,0,1096699.story" target="_blank">'possibly' crack cocaine</a> (which seems like the type of thing you should know for certain).<br />
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He also repeatedly claimed that one of the officers was actually from another county, which probably seemed much more annoying than disrespectful.<br />
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Timothy Torfonz Baker Jr. was <a href="http://blogs.tcpalm.com/off_the_beat_will_greenlee_blog/assets_c/2014/04/timothy_baker_1-15403.html" target="_blank">arrested and charged</a> with disorderly intoxication. After arriving at the jail, police <a href="http://www.wptv.com/news/region-indian-river-county/vero-beach/timothy-torfonz-baker-jr-pantsless-man-busted-after-mooching-ambulance-ride-in-vero-beach" target="_blank">found a bag of weed</a> inside his sock, which could 'possibly' result in more charges.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YP8IvOb1HJA/U1fBixBd6FI/AAAAAAAAHNE/hrLvCwNYdS0/s1600/timothybaker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YP8IvOb1HJA/U1fBixBd6FI/AAAAAAAAHNE/hrLvCwNYdS0/s1600/timothybaker.jpg" height="400" width="262" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">...and his very own pair of prison issued pants.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 24px;"><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am more personally, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px none; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">on Twitter</a>.</i></b> </span></div>
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<br />Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-28392043019534696882014-04-18T13:38:00.002-04:002014-04-18T13:38:55.627-04:00Weird Crime: When Zombie Helicopter Parents Attack<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V995hfIFp94/U1FaSHgCMII/AAAAAAAAHMo/GCLPKAWmstg/s1600/escalated.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V995hfIFp94/U1FaSHgCMII/AAAAAAAAHMo/GCLPKAWmstg/s1600/escalated.jpg" height="202" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>Detroit, Michigan</b></div>
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On April 14, 2014, 34-year-old <a href="http://www.detroitnews.com/article/20140417/METRO01/304170104/1361/Detroit-student-s-father-accused-of-assaulting-principal-faces-up-to-year-in-jail" target="_blank">Keron Wilson</a> arrived at Cooke Elementary School for what promised to be a tense meeting. He'd just learned that his child was <a href="http://detroit.cbslocal.com/2014/04/17/prosecutors-detroit-dad-bites-school-principal-in-feud-over-field-trip/" target="_blank">not going to be allowed on a school field</a> trip and demanded the school provide their reasoning for the exclusion.</div>
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The school's principal, Phillip Van Hooks, agreed to meet and <a href="http://www.freep.com/article/20140417/NEWS01/304170120/Keron-Wilson-Philip-Van-Hooks-Cooke-Elementary-biting-assault" target="_blank">gave him the reason</a>...which none of the incident reports have revealed. It must have been something pretty good, though, because Keron responded by <a href="http://www.clickondetroit.com/news/detroit-principal-reportedly-bitten-on-arm-punched-parent-charged-with-aggravated-assault/25534006" target="_blank">punching Van Hooks in the forehead</a>.</div>
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This should have been more than enough for Keron to make his feelings about the decision known. Just in case his displeasure wasn't clear, however, he also <a href="http://www.wilx.com/news/headlines/Principal-Bitten-Parent-Charged-with-Assault-255679211.html" target="_blank">bit Van Hooks on the forearm</a>. He was later <a href="http://www.freep.com/article/20140417/NEWS01/304170120/Keron-Wilson-Philip-Van-Hooks-Cooke-Elementary-biting-assault" target="_blank">arrested and charged</a> with aggravated assault.</div>
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Keron Wilson was scheduled to be arraigned on April 17, but as today, no record of his criminal misdeeds within the <a href="https://www.3rdcc.org/" target="_blank">Wayne County court system</a> database...except his two prior busts for <a href="http://i.imgur.com/J48BZT3.png" target="_blank">drug dealing/possession</a>.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jYe2OQj9gbA/U1Fe8FTLsZI/AAAAAAAAHM0/xOrau-ZacF8/s1600/keronwilson1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jYe2OQj9gbA/U1Fe8FTLsZI/AAAAAAAAHM0/xOrau-ZacF8/s1600/keronwilson1.png" height="291" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Let's hope he didn't eat the prosecutor</span>.</div>
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<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 24px;"><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am more personally, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px none; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">on Twitter</a>.</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;"><b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="outline: none;" target="_blank">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, a carnivorous dad decides to call about issues with school administration rather than meet in person.</span></i></b></span></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-74838598025701528892014-04-16T17:32:00.000-04:002014-04-16T17:32:03.473-04:00Weird Crime Wednesday: Dumb Moon Rising<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(photo @ <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Trip_to_the_Moon" target="_blank">wikipedia</a>)</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pyDeYT5XAMc/U07ytcP3iRI/AAAAAAAAHMA/d8T0o4MKaEE/s1600/maninthemoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pyDeYT5XAMc/U07ytcP3iRI/AAAAAAAAHMA/d8T0o4MKaEE/s1600/maninthemoon.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b>Ocala Florida</b><br />
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On Tuesday, April 15 of 2014, the people of North and South America were treated to a lunar eclipse known colloquially as a "<a href="http://www.cnn.com/2014/04/15/tech/innovation/blood-moon/" target="_blank">blood moon</a>." Some idiots thought it meant that the <a href="http://www.rawstory.com/rs/2014/04/14/pastor-john-hagee-tuesdays-blood-moon-eclipse-signals-the-end-of-the-world/" target="_blank">end of the world was upon us</a>, but most folks just figured it was a great chance to see a cool celestial event.<br />
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A group of teens in Florida, however, decided that their enjoyment of the night spectacle <a href="http://www.sun-sentinel.com/news/strange/floriduh-blog/sfl-flduh-blood-moon-20140415,0,4247198.story" target="_blank">would be greatly enhanced with some chemical assistance</a>. And while it's a pretty safe bet they weren't the only ones getting high while marveling at the intersection of science and beauty, they were probably the stupidest.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> <a href="http://imgur.com/62hTev9" target="_blank">imgur</a> via <a href="http://imgur.com/user/denimpax" target="_blank">denimpax</a></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MrQB8N2IWlQ/U070DIK-eOI/AAAAAAAAHMQ/i_2J8Pemd8g/s1600/bloodmoon.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MrQB8N2IWlQ/U070DIK-eOI/AAAAAAAAHMQ/i_2J8Pemd8g/s1600/bloodmoon.gif" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">"Whoa man....Mars is like, freaking out..."</span></div>
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For starters, the three teens <a href="http://www.orlandosentinel.com/news/local/breakingnews/os-blood-moon-teens-school-pot-bust-20140415,0,4583847.story" target="_blank">picked the ceiling of an elementary school</a> as their observation/bong ripping spot. Florida may not be home to much elevated land, but there had to be a better location available than that.<br />
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Surprisingly, however, their decision to smoke up on top of a grade school wasn't the most ridiculous thing that happened. In fact, the three toking teens might have gotten away with their evening of drugs, astronomy, and open rebellion...if one of them hadn't <a href="http://www.clickorlando.com/news/teens-smoked-marijuana-atop-florida-school-while-viewing-blood-moon-cops-say/25490256" target="_blank">pocket dialed 911</a>.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c6l-E5tXIQg/U07zigIbRTI/AAAAAAAAHMI/F29vygzJUFM/s1600/picardfacepalm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c6l-E5tXIQg/U07zigIbRTI/AAAAAAAAHMI/F29vygzJUFM/s1600/picardfacepalm.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></a></div>
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When police arrived, they witnessed the teens passing a bong between each other and <a href="http://www.clickorlando.com/news/teens-smoked-marijuana-atop-florida-school-while-viewing-blood-moon-cops-say/25490256" target="_blank">the glow of a lighter</a>. The group was <a href="http://www.orlandosentinel.com/news/local/breakingnews/os-blood-moon-teens-school-pot-bust-20140415,0,4583847.story" target="_blank">arrested and charged</a> with trespassing on school grounds, use or possession of drug paraphernalia, and marijuana possession of not more than 20 grams.<br />
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The subjects' names aren't being released due to them being minors, but I'm sure we'll see them in the news again soon enough.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Tg4ijUi9BhM/U070PrHHTUI/AAAAAAAAHMY/Ctt8G81LhOo/s1600/lunareclipse.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Tg4ijUi9BhM/U070PrHHTUI/AAAAAAAAHMY/Ctt8G81LhOo/s1600/lunareclipse.jpeg" height="318" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">...or at least by the next blood moon on <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/April_2015_lunar_eclipse" target="_blank">April 4, 2015</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 24px;"><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am more personally, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px none; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">on Twitter</a>.</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;"><b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="outline: none;" target="_blank">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, a group of wayward teenagers decide to smoke pot behind Waffle House like the rest of their friends.</span></i></b></span></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-81193569375372713702014-04-13T16:36:00.000-04:002014-04-15T17:26:25.113-04:00Not In My Write Mind: When Writers Attack Publishers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xL2SS75BTTU/U0r14ZYGkiI/AAAAAAAAHLw/u8HBB-a0rMg/s1600/DeadHarvestCover1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xL2SS75BTTU/U0r14ZYGkiI/AAAAAAAAHLw/u8HBB-a0rMg/s1600/DeadHarvestCover1.png" /></a></div>
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<b><i>Not In My Write Mind features trials and tales from my quest to go from a mediocre writer to a published mediocre writer. Please feel free to share in my struggle and laugh at my pain.</i></b></div>
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Author <a href="http://www.cwlasart.com/" target="_blank">Caren Widner Hanten</a> (who writes under the name <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4812406.C_W_LaSart" target="_blank">C.W. LaSart</a>) runs a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/384615034930975/" target="_blank">great group on Facebook</a> featuring open calls for horror markets. One thing that makes her group unique is that she only allows paying markets to be posted (with ones for charity being the only exception).</div>
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For those of us who feel it's important to be paid something for our words (even if it's just a token amount), this is extremely helpful. I understand that many small/start up publishers can't afford to pay their writers, but <a href="http://smokelong.com/" target="_blank">there are others</a> that have somehow worked their way up to 'elite publisher' status without ever offering any compensation. </div>
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Plenty of great small presses are out there and willing pay something (even if it's a very small amount) to show their appreciation for your work. It's not going to make you rich...and it might not even be able to buy you dinner...but your writing should always be valued in some way besides "exposure" if possible.</div>
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That brings us to <a href="https://www.facebook.com/mark.parker.142" target="_blank">Mark Parker</a> and his new publishing venture, <a href="http://scarletgalleonpubl.wix.com/scarletgalleon" target="_blank">Scarlet Galleon Publications</a>. Mark recently posted a very cool looking open call for a Fall themed anthology entitled <a href="http://scarletgalleonpubl.wix.com/scarletgalleon#!publications/c1m85" target="_blank">DEAD HARVEST</a>. The guidelines ask for a Fall-themed horror story that is a minimum of 4,000 words. Compensation for accepted stories will be $25 plus a contributor copy.<br />
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It wasn't long before us writer folks unleashed our deadly math skills and figured out that the payment came to less than $0.01 a word. At this point, Mark found himself on the receiving end of some angrily flung feces.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V8RxJkl1vok/U0rjNl33SyI/AAAAAAAAHK8/cqERWR9MF4E/s1600/DeadHarvestFIGHT1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V8RxJkl1vok/U0rjNl33SyI/AAAAAAAAHK8/cqERWR9MF4E/s1600/DeadHarvestFIGHT1.png" height="383" width="400" /></a></div>
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To Mark's credit, he kept his cool and calmly explained why his first time, self funded publishing endeavor was offering what it did...and why he's not a terrible person.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cJvaZKu3SnQ/U0rkMXkmZ8I/AAAAAAAAHLE/tWF1IfHSjHI/s1600/DeadHarvestFIGHT2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cJvaZKu3SnQ/U0rkMXkmZ8I/AAAAAAAAHLE/tWF1IfHSjHI/s1600/DeadHarvestFIGHT2.png" height="400" width="395" /></a></div>
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Mark even explained his reasoning behind the minimum word count (while still valiantly defending his honor).</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GCH0BqNPD90/U0rl7vr3MwI/AAAAAAAAHLQ/Ii_0uR7Iy7c/s1600/DeadHarvestFIGHT3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GCH0BqNPD90/U0rl7vr3MwI/AAAAAAAAHLQ/Ii_0uR7Iy7c/s1600/DeadHarvestFIGHT3.png" height="210" width="400" /></a></div>
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Eventually, Caren and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/selene.monly?fref=ufi" target="_blank">Selene MacLeod</a>, another queen of awesome open call pages, rose to Mark's defense. Others soon joined in, and before you knew it, we had a full blown popcorn fest.</div>
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Unfortunately, there was one aspect of the argument that seemed to be missing...so of course I felt the need to chime in. <a href="http://imgur.com/G0ypeSy" target="_blank">Here is what I said</a> with a bit more thought and (supposed) elegance:</div>
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Yes, $25 is very low respective to the word count. Mark probably should have thought through the math a little better on that. But you're missing two other important aspects about the compensation:</div>
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1. An actual, physical, real life copy of a really great looking book...something you can hold up to your friends, family, and enemies while proclaiming "LOOK WHAT I'M IN" without anyone assuming you've gotten yourself stuck in the toilet again.</div>
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From a pride stand point, that's a whole lot cooler than holding up your cracked iPad and asking people look at something resembling a late 1990's pdf file. Getting a physical copy of a book you're in that can go up on your shelf is very cool, very rewarding, and very not free.</div>
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2. Many writers use <a href="http://thegrinder.diabolicalplots.com/Default.aspx" target="_blank">The Submission Grinder</a> (free) and <a href="https://duotrope.com/" target="_blank">Duotrope</a> (not free) to track their submissions. This gives us a database of average acceptance rates, rejection types, and wait times.</div>
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If you're familiar with either of these databases, then you might have noticed something strange: Occasionally, elite markets will accept someone's work in 1-5 days, while the rest of us wait 1-2 months for a form rejection letter (please ignore my bitterness).</div>
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How did those people get their work read so fast? Shouldn't editors and slush readers just be looking for the best stories no matter who sent them in? </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YY9tPF-trnQ/U0rq3NI9XII/AAAAAAAAHLg/O51YsDomB3g/s1600/OldMenLaughing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YY9tPF-trnQ/U0rq3NI9XII/AAAAAAAAHLg/O51YsDomB3g/s1600/OldMenLaughing.jpg" height="263" width="400" /></a></div>
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The truth is, the writing world works much like every other business in the "real" world...and in the real world, you have to network. Oh sure, there will be a few who get discovered simply due to their awesomeness, but even they must fight through the horrors of initially being an unknown. </div>
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Case in point: Embedded below is an interview with my current favorite author, <a href="https://twitter.com/ChuckWendig" target="_blank">Chuck Wendig</a>, on <a href="http://swordandlaser.com/home/2014/4/3/sl-video-author-spotlight-chuck-wendig" target="_blank">Sword and Laser</a>. You should listen to the whole thing, but at 16:49, he talks about a particularly nasty rejection letter he received from author <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_F._Monteleone" target="_blank">Thomas Monteleone</a>...who advised him to quit writing.</div>
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Luckily for those of us who love great stories (and the <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/series/69709-miriam-black" target="_blank">Miriam Black series</a>), Mr. Wendig didn't listen. But as inspiring as that story about overcoming a douchey response from a dreaded "gatekeeper" may feel, it's not a license for you to wait to be discovered.<br />
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If you're submitting lots of short stories to publishers, that's great. Welcome to the club. The medical tape and antiseptic are over there on that table with all the blood. But unless you somehow find a way to get Tor.com to publish your work ten times a month, you won't get rich doing that. Heck, just getting them to publish you once is basically the new writer's version of winning the lottery.</div>
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I'm not saying don't go for it. Submit your stuff to the top publishers. Maybe an editor or slush reader will choose yours out of thousands upon thousands of submissions. But in the mean time, there are small press editors right down there in the trenches with you, fighting and clawing to make a name for themselves. Maybe their start up publishing house will grow into a pro paying market....or maybe they'll get snatched up by an already established and expanding one that needs more editors. But if fortunate does shine down upon them, they just might already have a list of authors whose work they know, like, and trust from when they started out...like when you submitted to their first time publishing endeavors.</div>
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None of this means you suddenly get a golden ticket into Published Town. You won't be able to send the sequel to <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2014/02/18/baboon-fart-story-now-available-here-for-your-erm-pleasure/" target="_blank">Baboon Fart Story</a> and roll naked in the resulting piles of cash. It just means that might have a better chance of making sure your very best stuff gets seen, read, and considered.</div>
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So send your best work to small press markets like <a href="http://www.visionarypresscoop.ws/p/submission-calls.html" target="_blank">Visionary Press</a>, <a href="http://tmclean1.wix.com/noodledoodle#!submissions/c9j6" target="_blank">Noodle Doodle</a>, and <a href="http://scarletgalleonpubl.wix.com/scarletgalleon#!publications/c1m85" target="_blank">Scarlett Galleon</a>. If it gets accepted, then at the very least you'll receive a small paycheck along with your work appearing in a very professionally edited and constructed book. You'll also make friends with some very cool and passionate people who are putting all they have into becoming a publisher. From a human and professional standpoint, that's worth a whole lot more than $0.01 a word.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 24px;"><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am more personally, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px none; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">on Twitter</a>.</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;"><b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="outline: none;" target="_blank">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, another new author realizes that they won't get rich publishing short stories.</span></i></b></span></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-46393860790315284032014-04-13T14:33:00.000-04:002014-04-16T15:29:25.636-04:00Weird Crime: Bad Hair Day<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(photo @ <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FingerGun" target="_blank">tvtropes</a>)</span></div>
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<b>Annapolis, Maryland</b><br />
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On the afternoon of April 10, 2014, <a href="http://www.capitalgazette.com/news/for_the_record/man-charged-with-attempted-robbery-of-annapolis-area-hair-salon/article_1350d013-c861-5d02-8f41-a5a44fce22de.html" target="_blank">29-year-old Ryan Trembly</a> entered Bubbles Hair Salon on a mission. It wasn't to give him a style that would turn heads and attract a new mate, though. Ryan was planning to rob the place.<br />
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He walked up to the receptionist, put his hand under his under shirt, and <a href="http://www.complex.com/city-guide/2014/04/ryan-michael-trembly-arrested-trying-to-rob-hair-salon" target="_blank">demanded that she give him the money in the register</a>. Unfortunately for him, the young lady behind the counter was not fooled by his finger gun. Instead, she simply <a href="http://www.nbcphiladelphia.com/news/weird/Receptionist-Laughs-at-Curtis-Bay-Mans-Robbery-Attempt--254733451.html" target="_blank">laughed in his face,</a><br />
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The receptionist also pointed out to reporters (and hopefully not to him) how stupid it was to rob a hair salon since a <a href="http://baltimore.cbslocal.com/2014/04/10/receptionist-laughs-off-attempted-robber-at-bubbles-hair-salon-in-annapolis/" target="_blank">bank was right next door</a>...although to Ryan's credit, he may have been correctly setting the bar low with regards to his criminal abilities.<br />
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After having completely failed at the robbery (and being completely emasculated), Ryan decided that now was the best time to spit some game, attempting to make <a href="http://gawker.com/tough-guy-robber-laughed-out-of-hair-salon-then-arres-1562570868" target="_blank">small talk with the receptionist</a> before leaving the salon.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> <a href="http://www.nbcphiladelphia.com/news/weird/Receptionist-Laughs-at-Curtis-Bay-Mans-Robbery-Attempt--254733451.html" target="_blank">nbcphiladelphia</a></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2DoMrMqgGoA/U0rT5mvTcaI/AAAAAAAAHJ4/IQXsBY3rmgU/s1600/Receptionist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2DoMrMqgGoA/U0rT5mvTcaI/AAAAAAAAHJ4/IQXsBY3rmgU/s1600/Receptionist.jpg" height="253" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">She's definitely cute, Ryan, but you'd never </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">win an </span></div>
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Things must not have gone well. After Ryan left, the receptionist flagged down a nearby officer. According to police, she claimed to have seen Ryan enter another nearby business before <a href="http://baltimore.cbslocal.com/2014/04/10/receptionist-laughs-off-attempted-robber-at-bubbles-hair-salon-in-annapolis/" target="_blank">being picked up in a white Nissan</a>. The receptionist was able to provide them with a <a href="http://annapolis.patch.com/groups/police-and-fire/p/no-go-suspected-robber-gives-up-after-hair-salon-employee-laughs-off-demands" target="_blank">partial tag number</a> for the car...<br />
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...which lead to police to <a href="http://metro.co.uk/2014/04/12/man-laughed-out-of-salon-after-he-tries-to-rob-it-using-fingers-as-fake-gun-4697465/" target="_blank">finding Ryan at his mother's house</a>.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NrXnLthTRFQ/U0rVh2uLZTI/AAAAAAAAHKE/fpv6w7VuLGM/s1600/picardfacepalm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NrXnLthTRFQ/U0rVh2uLZTI/AAAAAAAAHKE/fpv6w7VuLGM/s1600/picardfacepalm.jpg" height="267" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Please...PLEASE tell me that it was a friend </span></div>
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Ryan Trembly was <a href="http://www.complex.com/city-guide/2014/04/ryan-michael-trembly-arrested-trying-to-rob-hair-salon" target="_blank">arrested and charged</a> with attempted robbery (psssh) and theft of less than $1,000, which I assume means that he took more than one mint off the counter before leaving the salon.</div>
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At the time of publication, no information on Ryan's bond or future court date had been reported.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o3cTFriUETg/U0rWmvi16hI/AAAAAAAAHKM/j-z6wyVFGso/s1600/ryantrembly.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o3cTFriUETg/U0rWmvi16hI/AAAAAAAAHKM/j-z6wyVFGso/s1600/ryantrembly.png" height="400" width="319" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">...but I'm sure his mom will take care of both for him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 24px;"><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am more personally, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px none; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">on Twitter</a>.</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;"><b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="outline: none;" target="_blank">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, a man decides there are better ways to meet a girl than robbing a bank.</span></i></b></span></div>
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<br />Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8793232252361445864.post-47432317788099483762014-04-02T10:45:00.003-04:002014-04-02T10:45:26.847-04:00Weird Crime Wednesday: Deadly Sick Day<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(photo @ <a href="http://www.thegrindstone.com/" target="_blank">thegrindstone</a>)</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GvuZaTCIhcY/Uzwgrtb4vJI/AAAAAAAAHJc/mV8B0oNyhf0/s1600/Sick+Day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GvuZaTCIhcY/Uzwgrtb4vJI/AAAAAAAAHJc/mV8B0oNyhf0/s1600/Sick+Day.jpg" height="329" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>Brandon, Florida</b><br />
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On Monday, March 31 of 2014, police responded to a call by <a href="http://www.baynews9.com/content/news/baynews9/news/article.html/content/news/articles/bn9/2014/4/1/deputies_brandon_man.html" target="_blank">31-year-old Dwayne Yeager</a> about his home being broken into. In <a href="http://www.ksdk.com/story/news/nation/2014/04/02/florida-dwayne-yeager-stages-burglary-to-avoid-work/7196153/" target="_blank">the call</a>, which was made shortly after 7:00 AM, <a href="http://www.tampabay.com/news/publicsafety/brandon-man-stages-home-burglary-to-avoid-work-deputies-say/2172999" target="_blank">Yeager claimed</a> that he arrived home after being gone 45 minutes to find his front door open.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>"I need a sheriff in Brandon...<span style="line-height: 1.4;">my door's wide open. My windows to my son's bedroom are open. My TVs are laying on the ground." </span></b></i></span></blockquote>
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He also claimed to have seen a white <a href="http://tbo.com/ap/offbeat2/deputies-brandon-man-faked-burglary-to-avoid-work-20140401/" target="_blank">Honda Civic with a black fender</a> pulling out of his driveway...although something tells me that "fender" was actually supposed to mean "spoiler."<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> <a href="http://www.ek9.org/forum/members-rides/21966-bigmarks-1997-cw-ek9.html" target="_blank">ek9</a></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GRUsc4fYEqI/UzwiFNMPVRI/AAAAAAAAHJo/Od9foARpCDU/s1600/HondaSpoiler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GRUsc4fYEqI/UzwiFNMPVRI/AAAAAAAAHJo/Od9foARpCDU/s1600/HondaSpoiler.jpg" height="299" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">...because that would help to positively identify the suspect as a douchebag</span></div>
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When police arrived at Yeager's house, it predictably <a href="http://www.nbcnews.com/id/54839883/#.UzwWRPldUb8" target="_blank">appeared to be ransacked</a>. The front bedroom window and blinds were also open, but showed no sign of forced entry. This led police to question Yeager's neighbors, where they discovered that things didn't quite down as the alleged burglary victim had claimed.<br />
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Yeager's neighbors <a href="http://tbo.com/ap/offbeat2/deputies-brandon-man-faked-burglary-to-avoid-work-20140401/" target="_blank">explained to the deputies</a> that he had come back to his home that morning, opened the windows and blinds himself, and then waited in his front yard for the police. They also said that story about a douchified Honda Civic pulling out of Yeager's driveway was completely false.<br />
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When deputies confronted Yeager with these neighborly allegations, he admitted that the entire burglary story had been staged in the <a href="http://www.nbcnews.com/id/54839883/#.UzwWRPldUb8" target="_blank">hopes of not having to go to work that day</a>. He then piled on the stupid, claiming that his <a href="http://tbo.com/ap/offbeat2/deputies-brandon-man-faked-burglary-to-avoid-work-20140401/" target="_blank">wife made him do it</a> because she wouldn't let him go to work...AND that he didn't think calling the police about a fake burglary <a href="http://www.baynews9.com/content/news/baynews9/news/article.html/content/news/articles/bn9/2014/4/1/deputies_brandon_man.html" target="_blank">would get him into very much trouble</a>.<br />
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As usual, this story leaves us with a few very important questions:<br />
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<b>1. Just how much do this guy's neighbor's hate him?</b><br />
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I'm not just claiming they hated him because they told the truth to the police, by the way.<br />
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The time frame for the crimes (both real and imagined) took place between 6:00-7:00 AM. The fact that MULTIPLE people were allegedly watching him stage a home break-in instead of sleeping or watching Good Morning America...and that no one gave him the benefit of the doubt...would seem to indicate some sort of previous animosity existed.<br />
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<b>2. Why not just call in sick?</b><br />
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It's an obvious question, but still a valid one. Even if he'd used up all his sick leave, there had to be better and less risky excuses than staging a robbery and calling the police about it.<br />
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<b>3. Why wouldn't his wife let him go to work?</b><br />
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Either she really wanted to spend time with him, or he just totally threw his better half under the bus.<br />
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Dwyane Yeager was <a href="http://www.nbcnews.com/id/54839883/#.UzwWRPldUb8" target="_blank">arrested and charged</a> with one count of giving false information to a law enforcement officer. He was released later that day on <a href="http://www.ksdk.com/story/news/nation/2014/04/02/florida-dwayne-yeager-stages-burglary-to-avoid-work/7196153/" target="_blank">$500 bond</a>.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iwbacNI1pu0/Uzwf05L5guI/AAAAAAAAHJU/DTF7q6Ne5xE/s1600/dwyanyeager.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iwbacNI1pu0/Uzwf05L5guI/AAAAAAAAHJU/DTF7q6Ne5xE/s1600/dwyanyeager.jpg" height="400" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I'm guessing he still didn't go to work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 24px;"><i>Please feel free to leave a comment below. If you'd like to sing my praises or tell me how terrible I am more personally, I can also be found <a href="http://twitter.com/NickNafster79" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px none; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">on Twitter</a>.</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;"><b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">To get updates on when new articles or podcasts are published (and occasional random musings) 'Like' the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/RamblingBeachCatcom/310287192327965" style="outline: none;" target="_blank">RamblingBeachCat.com Facebook page</a>. Every time someone does, a man decides that a flat tire and/or a broken timing belt is a much better made up excuse for not going in that day.</span></i></b></span></div>
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Nick Nafpliotishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07367813121356223123noreply@blogger.com