As time goes by

2010
Long nights under cloudless skies and I was a ticking time bomb ready to blow at a moments notice until you clipped the red wire and set me off. My heart bursted like a water balloon on pavement and I was sweating bullets. The sky never looked so beautiful as it did that night, there in my flatscreen picture window playing the same show over and over again as cars passed by at a snails pace. We sat there long and hard, with nothing to separate us but a patchwork pillow of earth tones and all of my insecurities, choking me up and leaving me breathless. I've had a green thumb ever since that night, playing gardener and planting our seeds in the soil, watering them, nurturing them so that we can grow together, intertwined at the roots.
-Kevin James Whetstone
1996
I cried harder than I had ever cried before. I told my father I would never get in that truck as he was throwing the last of my bags into the rusted out red flatbed of his old Chevy Silverado. My brother and I used to call that truck "The Beast" because it sat on huge tires and when we rode in it we were sitting as high as Truckers in their comfort cabs that they call home for most of the year. Riding in it alongside my father was always one of the biggest thrills for me, and it almost always assured me a free soda and Nachos from York's local 7-11. I used to sit like an excited puppy when it's owner grabs the leash every time I would hear the jingle of those keys as my father pulled them from the hook that hung low below cabinets of fine china in our kitchen. Not this day though. I wouldn't go this time, I was sure of it. Bryan was there. Brendan too. My best friends since I could remember. They shared my first birthday cake that I actually recall. They were cowboys to my indian. Batman and Robin to my Joker. They were how I spent every sunny day in my childhood paradise. I had it all in York. I had A basketball court and lived two minutes from the local pool. I had the best friends I could ask for and spent every day searching out new adventures in the depths of my intricate mind.
-Kevin James Whetstone

2001
I sat in a passenger seat, biting my nails. angry and frustrated to be torn away from everything i had known for as long as i had existed. apprehensive, relocating to a state i couldn't place on a blank map. with thoughts of overalls and chewing tobacco flooding my young head. "these people must be bored out of their minds," i thought as we passed open field upon open fields. with wire looking fixtures i later learned were called "pivots." little did i know that this state held the most beautiful souls my soul has ever encountered. people i'd take a bullet for in a second. hearts that i'd sew to my own. it didn't take long before i immersed myself in the welcoming spirits. spirituality in others, my religion became hills and corn rows taller than my head. my mantra was "the good life." my creed are my people, and my people are my life, and my life is beautiful.

-trace adam lewis

12
Slippery dead dogs are floating down a river.

-Holden Oliver Armstrong

2002
I was getting fitted for my first tux. I was chubby and I sucked in my gut like when I was a kid and I held my breath under water, trying desperately to outlast my friends. I was scared. Sex was a complicated algebra problem on a chalkboard and I was standing in front of the judgmental eyes of my teacher and the heckling of classmates with chalkdust lining my fingertips and sweat on my brow. I was lost. The pants were uncomfortable and i don't even want to start on how cramped and stiff the shoes were. I was supposed to dance in this? My mom smiled wider than the potholes that littered this town, the ones that would make the pavement scrape the fender and cause my father to cringe. She was happy, this was a moment she was waiting for. She bought a 3 pack of disposable cameras and vacuumed the carpet twice. everything had to be perfect for her darling boy, so handsome in his suit and tie. The corvette was a stick-shift, another math problem I couldn't comprehend. My father spent hours on gravel roads with an old Ford Ranger my neighbor owned showing me how to tame the six cylinder machine I held the reigns to, but much like every test I had studied hours for in the fluorescent glow of my desk lamp, the minute the time came to apply my knowledge I froze up, and my mind became a a code even the most skilled hacker could never crack. I killed it twice on the way to the dance. I stepped on my dates foot more times than I can remember whilst shuffling around the dance floor like a stiff corpse. Her gaze was warm. She smiled at me, even as she groaned beneath the weight of my lead foot, she smiled. When all was said and done, my jacket was a rumpled mess in the backseat and my tie was lost in the breeze out that corvette window. We drove home in the silence of heartfelt smiles and the palest glow of a waning crescent moon, and me, I couldn't have felt higher in my life. Everest couldn't touch me. I dropped her off at home and she kissed me hard. Driving home I thought about steering that corvette into the next vehicle I saw.
- Kevin James Whetstone

2003
I was alone. It was dark. I had no idea what to do next. Take a left? Take a right? It's not like it really mattered anyway. I was in this town, and I knew one person -- only one -- who wouldn't turn me in. It was a fucking trip, and I was rolling in it. If it hadn't been for that library and that column to sleep against, with the shadows blocking me behind a hill, the street lamps keeping my secrets, the papers in my bag keeping my thoughts straight, I might have died there that night ... actually, I probably would have made it out alive. I always do, I always will. As long as I could breathe, I could make it, and that's why dying is so dramatic. Life is even more so. I think I wrote something along those lines that night, and it changed everything.
- Kara A. Flaherty

2004
Stare at the stars, they are clear tonight. Clearer than anything you've ever said, anything that's ever escaped your mind and went straight to your mouth. No filters. Do you remember where we were? Yeah, me neither. The only thing that sticks out in my mind is the fact that you still had coke under your fingernails. Six years and counting.
- Kara A. Flaherty

2010
Look at you. You are beautiful.
- Kara A. Flaherty

2010
Chan wrote something here once. He made gratuitous use of the delete key. "Damn you, Deltron! Damn youuu!" they screamed.
-Ryan Deltron Simonson

2010

I can still hear his stern voice. "Walk for me," he said, the slightest smirk on his face giving way to the pleasure he was getting out of this. I stumble. "AGAIN!" he almost shouts, his smugness radiating like the sun when the clouds are scarce and the wind is nonexistent. It was freezing. The coldest day of the year, the worst night of my life summed up into 3 letters...D.U.I.

-Kevin James Whetstone

1998
It's hot and arid. The ocean is too far away to moisten my bones and I'm quite simply dehydrated. Step out of the grey suburban and drink in the pounding sunlight, thrumming and methodical in its pounding regularity. So much closer to the equator than any human should ever be and observe as a child no older than 6 digs through a pile of refuse in search of their next meal. No person deserves this, I no longer believe in a god. What sick masochistic kind of god could we possibly believe in should this sort of thing go on right underneath his nose. He sees everything, right? RIGHT? Maybe not. Maybe he's a half-blind rubbish god. Something that should be included in a fucking pantheon with other gods that look at him like the downs kid and just smile and nod whenever he tries something omnipotent; if not, then we have most certainly failed. You believe in that asshole? Oh right, he simply reinforces your feelings of entitlement to your birth status, and if your birth status sucks, then he simply makes you feel as if you deserved it all along. No. Spirituality is the lazy person's excuse for vehement religion and I willn't stand for it ever again. Tell me you're spiritual rather than religious and I will punch you in the face as you're simply replacing words and thinking that it makes some sort of difference in the cataclysmic reality that we call life. Continue slithering around without eyes like some sort of cave creature all you like but don't be surprised when someone who has rid themselves of the bounds of a phenomena invented by humans shows you reality, life unfettered and the possibility of self. Alone. Become the instrument of your own destruction and that of your enemies. Forward not in.
-Joel T. Roos
1994
i'm young, with blond hair and scraped knees from crashing my light blue huffy. chain-link runs the length of our house on san bernardino ave. i can still remember the address, 18544 san bernardino ave, bloomington, california, 92316. i could run faster than anybody in the world. i can still remember my phone number 909-873-8425. dad bought an above ground pool. my brother and i tipped the swingset over once, and after we regained the wind that'd been knocked out of us, we let out our laughs. eric and i fought like siblings fight, and i'd kick him hard in the shins, then run for my life.

-trace adam lewis

2001
Look at him, sitting there in his matchbox car with a quivering lip, counting out the stars cut from paper sky like birdshit on fresh asphalt.

-Kevin James Whetstone

Boom, Roasted!

Your laugh was helium, filling my heart and lifting it up, up, up like a balloon towards the sky as we sucked down cold ones under the shelter of my white wooden porch. You kissed me hard and it burst within me, and I began to plummet back to earth, falling fast and locked on to you like a heat-seeking missile. It was one of those hot summer nights we spent between warm bedsheets that end up bunched at the foot of the bed amidst a sea of stripped clothing, used condom wrappers and a case of crushed blue aluminum.

I want to say thank you. It meant the world to me. you with your flower dress and tied back hair walking so effortlessly in and out of my life from airplane corridors and Eppley Express van-lines...all at your convenience. On your watch. I used to miss you terribly, staring at my cieling fan pulling air and pushing time.

I don't miss you now. Sure I get the occasional eyesore when when I see you sitting with a cold smile in the back of my mind like lost childhood memories and drunken adventures, but I've got a prescription to kill the pain. She's a bright smile and the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen. She is blonde hair to the shoulders and a pierced lower lip. She is excitement on a rainy day. She is warmth from a blizzard in the dead of winter. She is happiness...serenity. She is super glue to my broken spirit, a quick fix that will hold strong and never let go,

Video Commentary: False Advertising

Cheers, Darlin'!

Remember your last trip to the UK? It was 2006 wasn't it. Winter. The same year we had water fights in our hippie friend's front yard. It was the same year you bought me a case of Miller Lite and wrapped a bow on it. you knew me so well. I heard about it just the other day...your trip. I heard what really happened those nights you never rang me.

You called me almost every single morning, I remember that. You would say how you loved me and couldn't stand the distance, how your heart was going to explode.

My mind moves to Oregon in 2008, sitting on the beach watching the ocean roll in. I remember how static clouded our conversation because the reception was terrible. I remember that call ending, saying goodbye, and how I just sat there writing "I Love You" in the sand and letting the incoming water wash away my words like the shake of an etch-a-sketch, only so I could write them again. I repeated this for some time...those words, because I felt them.

I remember the first time we said those words to each other. I was sweating and my lip was trembling. I was so choked up the words came out like a gasp and you almost missed them, but you were tuned in. A huge smile spread across your face and your eyes sparkled, you almost cried...I almost cried. We held each other long that night, not letting sleep get in the way of the moment. We were holding on like I held your picture in my wallet, never wanting to let our love slip. I remember coming home from Oregon. I pulled that picture out and let it slowly slip from my grasp, the breeze carrying it, carrying you away from me and settling in Eugene. I left you there because I was coming home...home to you. I heard about your evening lover in Europe. I spit when I think of how I drove to Omaha so early in the morning to welcome you back...how we held each other in the terminal. How I shouted "I Love You" at the top of my lungs like they do in the movies or on those commercials for expensive diamonds. I hope your happy now in your big city life. I hope your life turns out perfectly. I hope you take over some company and have more money than God.

I'm just happy I know the real you. after all this time I see you clearly.

As for me, I will continue to smile wholeheartedly and drink all the booze. Cheers!

Thanks Mom!

At 10 I was Batman, running the streets of hidden beneath a plastic mask and a towel my mother tied around my neck.
By the time I reached 12, I was Reggie Miller, spending all my free time in our driveway putting up last second buzzer-beaters to win the game.
At 14, I was Tom DeLonge, rocking out a sold out crowd with my air guitar, singing into a hairbrush and winking to all my adoring female fans.

At what point in our lives do we stop pretending? When does imagination give way to maturity?

Perhaps the best thing my mother ever did for me happened on my ninth birthday.
All I wanted was a Nintendo and Super Mario 3, and after unwrapping all of my gifts, there was no Nintendo.
I was crushed, but then my mother pulled out a very large box from under the counter about the size of the game system, and my heart started racing faster than RUSH drum solo.
I tore into the wrapping paper excitably only to find that there was not a nintendo, but simply a red hat.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked to my mother and said "But I wanted to play Mario," to which she replied as she took the hat from the box and placed it on my head, "but Kevin, you are Mario!"

It was on that day while I was running around my yard jumping on imaginary Goombas that I stopped concerning myself with video games.

Perhaps Ray Bradbury said it best..."Video games are a waste of time for men with nothing else to do."

Thanks mom!

Confessions of a non-practicing hedonist.

HEDONIST Hedonism Heed Honest He-don-ist... I am a hedonist, self-proclaimed, and before you go off and start forming judgments in your head, let me just tell you...I'm non-practicing. For those of you that find yourself scratching your head already, a hedonist is a person whose life is devoted to the pursuit of pleasure and self-gratification, believing it to be the sole positive characteristic of existing. Happiness is essentially all that matters in life. Perhaps the simplest means of self-gratification is masturbation. With this in mind, take a step back and think...think hard, now don't we all see a little bit of a hedonist residing inside of all of us? Now, like I said, in this respect (playing the organ in the Right Hand Band), I am non-practicing. What's that you say?? NON-PRACTICING?? PREPOSTEROUS...be easy on me people. It has only been 10 days, and 31 days my last attempt at Abstinence, but there are some things a man won't give up and that is alcohol. So I guess I do practice hedonism nightly, because I do enjoy Scotch. It makes me happy, but it also leaves me feeling dejected and lonely with a headache the size of heartbreak and a little less money I could have spent pursuing other ventures.

Column 2 Final Draft

Faith: Losing its grasp on society

And the Lord said unto thee, “Keep holy the Sabbath Day.”

Ok, so really it was just something that a guy carve into stone after he consumed too much wine and talked to a plant on fire, but regardless of what I believe to be true, here we sit thousands of years later, and millions of people are still pouring out their hearts and breaking their piggy banks in hopes of being saved on a Sunday.

Since further back than I care to remember, Sunday mornings to me always meant staring at an old man's ever-expanding bald spot or being repeatedly elbowed in the ribs by my mother in a desperate attempt to keep me awake, because God-forbid I fall asleep in our Lord's house whilst being regaled by stories of his greatness.

I grew up a child of conservative, god-fearing parents who never missed mass. I was put through the private and somewhat elitist catholic school system from kindergarten until graduation, and all throughout my childhood and into my teenage years, my mother would warn me about the dangers of lying, cheating, swearing and sex.

“Jesus is always watching,” she’d say…scare tactics.

I went through the motions that every child goes through when they are put through catholic school for the entirety of their lives to the point of high school graduation, which was basically church, prayers, recess, confession, food, prayers, sleep and repeat.

About the time I walked onto the hardwood basketball court of the Kearney Catholic gym amidst a sea of camera flashes and up on stage to receive my high school diploma, I was seriously questioning the possibility of God, I mean, really, did one man just snap his fingers and here we are?

According to a new report by the respected Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life, I am not alone in my agnostisized lifestyle. The report, entitled “Study: Young adults less affiliated with religion”, stated that more than 25 percent of Americans age 18 to 29 have no religious preference or affiliation, and fewer than one in five regularly attend services.

This makes my generation the least religious generation among Americans alive today. The report went on to state that only 53 percent of young adults were certain God exists, compared to 71 percent of the oldest group questioned.

With startling numbers like these, it should have come as no surprise to my parents the day I denounced my faith, citing that God was simply an idea put into our heads by a mass collective of pimps who whore out his name, speaking it louder than ever just about the time the collection plates come around for donations.

To me it has always been a cost game. I look at finding a religion the same way I would look at joining a gym. They are all pushing the same product, but it all comes down to who makes the best pitch, and which membership is the cheapest to acquire.

Nowadays, when it comes to the question of my religion, I like to quote Albert Einstein, for I think he said it better than anyone else ever could when he stated, “True religion is real living; living with all one's soul, with all one's goodness and righteousness.”

Now those are some words I can have some definite faith in and follow with the whole of my heart.

Oh what a lovely tea party!

What was I thinking?

What in the hell was it that pushed me to the point where I thought I could handle the machine...control it?

The smoothed cement floor was cold, that is the first thing I remember. The floor was cold and I felt disoriented as hell, the kind of feeling that overcomes you when you stand up too fast...a head rush.

The walls were kind of off-green, light with scratchings all around them. I tried to stay calm, looking around slowly and squinting hard, trying to shake the eyesores in the blinding light coming from the buzzing flourescent bulbs running lenghtwise overhead. The room was small, the lights buzzed and a stainless steel toilet and faucet combo that is definately not found in the Sears catalog ran water lightly in the far corner of the room. I remember thinking how someone should really fix that and conserve that water.

There were no windows in the room save for one that sat about 8"x8" in the corner directly opposite the running toilet. Voyeurism makes me sick, but what gives me a far worse feeling in the pit of my stomach is the instance at which you realize you are in a room with a window that sits on a door with no visible handle. I was stuck here and there was no way out.

There is quite possibly no worse feeling I have ever felt than waking up on a freezing January morning incarcerated, knowing only that but a few hours before, you were sitting in a beautiful bar with beautiful people drinking beautiful scotch, and now you are sitting there in the cold, alone, and not sure what you have done that landed you here. Did I kill someone...all I could think of was vehicular manslaughter, a thought that choked me up and left me gasping for air.

I guess I consider myself lucky, looking at the situation. I was drunk beyond recognition. I drove my car in a blackout state, and nobody was hurt. Nothing was hurt except for my future, but knowing that I still have one is enough. Don't drink and drive, friends...it is never worth it.

NETWORK!

"Television is not the truth. Television is a goddamn amusement park. Television is a circus, a carnival, a traveling troupe of acrobats, story tellers, dancers, singers, jugglers, sideshow freaks, lion tamers and football players. We're in the boredom-killing business."
When Howard Beale (actor Peter Finch) shouts this to his hoard of listeners (60 million strong at the time), I start to feel chills that I imagine researchers probably felt upon discovering Nostradamus' last book.

Okay, so maybe that is taking things a wee bit too far, but come on, it's like Paddy Chayefsky wrote the character to be the perfect prophet, foretelling things not only in the present to near future, but in the distant future as well. Director Sidney Lumet's film is a perfect social criticism on the world of broadcast media. Although I only caught half of the film during our classes screening, I have to say that the film was quite an experience.

Television is the bane of my existence, and although I recognize it's importance in our popular culture, I can't help but find it completely useless in my life. I have not had cable aside from living within the four walls of my parents home, and that one time I spliced my landlord's cable as a special way to say "Thanks!" for raising my rent, but all in all I see television as evil. I read a study on childhood obesity, and it talked of how parents will overfeed their children if a television is on during eating times, as well as consume more themselves. Children learn from their parents and pick up tendencies, one of which can be overeating, which is affected indirectly by the television through the parents. Are you still with me?

When we were watching the film, I found myself really enjoying the theatre production that was Howard Beale. Everything he said made me smile a little, especially his rant on television in general. The film was a good insight into what it would be like working in the power-hungry, money-grubbing hands of television executives.

All in all I enjoyed the film, Faye Dunaway was a stone-cold fox and the film provided me with the most awkward sex scene I have seen aside from that of Ben Stiller's in the Heartbreak Kid remake, in which Malin Ackerman screams "Jackhammer me!" Old Ben had no clue.

My one gripe is that the ending sucked. It was meaningful, but much like the ending in Easy Rider, it is just like they gave up, but I am nobody to lecture on the importance of hard work and not procrastinating, therefore i will just shut up now.

Letting the Tiger out of the cage

With the month of March quickly coming to an end, people across the country are packing away their winter wear and surveying the aisles at malls and department stores in search of the newest spring fashions.

Although I like the warmth of the sunshine and the ability to wear shorts and flip-flops on a regular basis, the weather reports are not what have kept me in the habit of picking up the Kearney Hub on a day-to-day basis and tearing open the front page like a child opening presents at Christmas-time.

What draws my attention and has me teeming with anticipation is the fact that Spring not only means enjoyable weather, it also signifies the fact that golfers around the world are hitting the driving range in preparation for the Masters Tournament that will be held on April 8-11 at Augusta.

The tournament that is not only the Super Bowl of golf, but also one that will mark the return of the sport's favorite and most controversial son, Tiger Woods.

In a press conference held last Tuesday, Woods made it known to the public that he has planned his return to the sport, which is a moment I have been looking forward to since his scandal-ridden leave of absence in mid-January.

"The Masters is where I won my first major and I view this tournament with great respect. After a long and necessary time away from the game, I feel like I'm ready to start my season at Augusta," Woods said during the conference.

His decision will no doubt bring forth many jeers from fans across the world, especially due to the fact that the tournament is one that requires only one thing of it’s participants aside from the ability to swing a club and knock a little ball into a hole…they must have a penis.

The Augusta National is a tournament that is all male, meaning that the Michelle Wie’s of the world will have to once again sit this one out.

There have already been reports of female protesters citing that Woods’ decision to return is one that suggests a continued lack of moral standing, and many have problems forgetting the fact that Woods refused to boycott the Master’s Tournament only a year ago for it’s refusal to allow a woman to play in the tournament, a decision made ironically to keep Woods out of the oft judgmental eyes of the controversy-hungry media.

Although this decision is one that is slowly coming back to haunt him, especially after his exploits in dalliance and infidelity, people need to remember that Woods' mere involvement in the game, let alone his prowess, is a positive mark for the sport that at one time only held color beneath the weight of a bag of clubs on a caddie’s shoulders.

When the tournament kicks off in a few short weeks, there is no doubt in my mind that all eyes will be focused hard on Woods, and although it is near impossible for him to play the course without any jests and jeers, I say that its about time we let Tiger out of his cage, so that he can get back to doing what he does best, which is continually changing the face of golf.

aches and pains

My collar bone aches, my head is pounding and it is bitter cold outside my bedroom window. Each gust of wind makes the tree branches tap tap tap and scratch scratch scratch like a cat on the wrong side of the door. I can't ride a bike because of my shoulder. I can't drive a car because of my alcoholic tendencies, and now the last thing I want to do is wander out into the freezing winds and make my way to work on the soles of my shoes. What ever happened to blissful ignorance? What ever happened to waking up and having a warm breakfast waiting? We grow up so fast and never seem to even notice how much we change each day. How could we? Today my hair is longer than it was when I fell asleep, but no matter, there is nothing I can do to stop it. This used to tear at me. I always felt like I was living on someone elses stopwatch, like if I didnt get something done in a timely manner the world would end. Well, here I sit today, aching head, aching shoulder, my mind screaming and my heart beating, and I gotta say it's been one helluva ride so far, and no matter what the train keeps rolling.

Give a little bit...

It wasn't until I reached the age of 18 that I realized just how wonderful life was if you lived it with the tribal mentality. Up until that point, although I would consider myself a nice, giving person, I was still what you would call materialistic. Sure I would lend out DVDs or let my buddies wear my shoes that they loved, but I always found myself making checklists and looking for any sign of a scuff mark on the newest pair of Nike Dunks I had recently loaned out. I would never call anyone out on a scuff or a scratched CD track, but I would get so angry. I was protective, much like most people in this world because I had bought the items.
As Dean Jacobs talked about today, some of the cheaper places to travel have the nicest and most honest people. This is because they still realize that every single person on this earth holds a certain value, something that we in America no longer take notice of as we are all too wrapped up in our day-to-day routines with our noses pressed to our Blackberry screens, our thumbs becoming our most frequented tools for communication.
How is it that we have come to this. I think of 1492. I think of Vonnegut, the most distinct voice in a sea of satirists, and about what he wrote in his famed novel, Breakfast of Champions. speaking of our first "inhabitants/discoverers", Vonnegut refers to our ancestors as pirates, because we essentially killed, maimed and enslaved our way to ownership of this now great nation we salute daily as the land of the free. But who is really free anymore. Vonnegut writes, "The chief weapon of the sea pirates, however, was their capacity to astonish. Nobody else could believe, until it was much too late, how heartless and greedy they were."
We used those peoples trust against them, a practice still used heavily in today's society. Deception in an undying fad and we are all in practice in some way shape or form. Even women who harmlessly chat up a guy with meaningless flirtation is using deception to get a drink without opening her pocketbook.
My parents always told me that I am way too giving and open with my possessions. At the bar, I generally spend more money buying my friends numerous drinks than I spend on my own self. In my home, many a time a person has remarked about anything from a painting to a t-shirt and how appealing they find it to be, and I will take it off its hanger and present it to them, no questions asked. All the food I buy I share, and I will often buy enough food for a week and make it all in one day, inviting some friends or roommates to dine with me. Some would just say I love being around people, Others would say that I was teeming with charm, most would say I am crazy but at least I can say I am happy.
I first learned the beauty and joy of tribal living when I met Ben, an artist friend and fellow Loper who was painting his way to a degree. Ben invited me over to his house one day (a totally random occurance) because we had met through a common friend. I almost felt honored by the fact that he remembered who I was let alone wanted to hang out with me.
The first time I ever set foot into Ben's apartment, it was like someone had crammed the entire set of The Rocky Horror Picture Show into space roughly 25 feet by 12 feet. There were mannequin heads, plastic arms, a stack of unused TV's, random strange articles of clothing and enough cans of paint to coat the apartment 100 times over. The fridge was stocked with beer and dumpster-dived food, and Ben reached in, grabbed a cold one and said "help yourself!"
I was in shock, because as I reached in slowly and picked up a can, Ben told me to eat something if I felt like it. Soon, with enough day-old foods to fill my stomach and enough golden brown goodness to wash it down, I found myself in the center of the room, sitting on the floor across from Ben. He was going off about life, and how pointless it is if you can't smile and enjoy yourself. He told me about giving, and how it makes him feel better to see someone else wearing one of his shirts and loving the way the fabric rubs against their skin in the breeze, and the elation that brought him was far greater than owning the shirt himself. As I was readying to leave, I saw a painting on his wall (their wasn't a space in the house void of artwork) and told him it was great. I stopped, stared at it for a moment and made my exit. The next day, as I got out of class, I returned to my dorm room in mens hall to find the painting leaning against my door with a note on it that said "Real generosity toward the future lies in giving all to the present - Albert Camus".

Ben asked me to keep the painting, but much how I had come to hold it was the only way he ever wanted others to hold it. I was so touched by this that I began spending all my time at Ben's house. I met dozens of people and learned many lessons about life. During the time I spent there, I had seen at least 50 people find shelter on Ben's couch or under his staircase, it was like a flophouse for artists. Ben never once asked anything of me or those people, yet he gave so much of himself. Over the years I have held and passed on nearly 25-30 of his works, and they now hang in houses throughout the state...a few have even left the country. I have given away brand new shoes (never worn dunks at $145 once even), half of my wardrobe, books, movies, food, a TV and more drinks than one could imagine. I have housed more than 50 people, sometimes up to a week at a time, and I have trusted every person I have come into contact with.
Sure it has bitten me in the ass on a few occasions, but for the most part, I would say that I have lived a wonderfully happy life amidst my friends and our never-dying giving tree. I guess what I am saying is that our talk with Dean really made me realize just how much I value my life, my friends and the choices I have made.

yakka foob tubbawup gazork wizzbang coca cola fireman.

Noah Gundersen wrote, "Time is a fast car passing me by. I'm getting older and it feels alright." As I sit here in my 24th year of living in this glorious "*land of the free" I start to realize that although we are all getting older, there is really no reason to feel alright about it. I have tried everything, from taking batteries out of clocks to never turning my calendar over at the start of a new month, but all in all, everyday that I wake up, I look and feel old. Older. My hair is getting thinner, my back is already developing aches and pains, and I am just waiting for the day that my hip goes out and I can no longer achieve an erection without the help of a pill. Don't get me wrong people, that stage of my life is far off from the present, but that doesn't mean it won't seem like just a day ago I was sixteen and running my car into a ditch about the time i reach 80. It seems to me like I am always chasing time, but like a dog on a leash, I ca only chase that fast car to the borders that have been laid out for me. Predetermined. Everything is timing. Fuck time. I think I will just start watching NASCAR in a cut-off Def Leppard t-shirt and homemade jean shorts, drink a shitload of Pepsi and Busch Light, put some Garth Brooks on the stereo and try to find my place here in the midwest, because God knows if I will ever escape this flatland of nothingness that holds me captive, so I may as well get accustomed to it. Drink Bleach, robots are coming to kill us all. What? What? OK Yeah. Dramamine Dramamine Evolution Revolution Retribution Self-Destruction Coitus Coitus Coitus COITUS Octopus arms in a sea of red, Horror Show Horror Show Whorer Show Bedlam Bedlam its all a fucking dream and merrily merrily merrily we float down a river of rootbeer, therefore we are root beer floats. Mare Night Night night nite nite Nightmare its all a nightmare its all a N.I.G.H.T.M.A.R.E. dream dream dream the day away . I love Chai Tea and cigarettes floating in an ashtray on a rainy day in august. I love snowfall in the summer. Absurdity is blissfulness. Blissfulness is Masturbation. Masturbation is life. Sex is Neat. NEAT.




*some restrictions apply

Losing sight of our utopian society. Final Draft.

Author and Journalist Hendrik Willem Van Loon once said, “This world needs Utopias as it needs fairy stories. It does not matter so much where we are going, as long as we are making consciously for some definite goal. And a Utopia, however strange or fanciful, is the only possible beacon upon the uncharted seas of the distant future."

Perhaps its time we start thinking in the past.

Not long ago, it seemed as though Kearney was an excellent place to live and raise a family. It was as close to a utopian society as one could get.

For Generation Y, those of us born between 1970 and 2000, Kearney was seen as a place where nothing truly interesting and newsworthy really happened, yet recently, as in the past decade, the town has been akin to troubles you would see in larger metro areas and on giant movie screens.

Serious issues such as the 2001 Anne Sluti abduction, the 2009 murder of Kelcey Fike, the 2009 robbing of Kmart, the recent hostage crisis at Wells Fargo and the newly developing story about the teenager who, with the aid of his friends, allegedly robbed his 77-year-old grandmother of her pain medication have turned this once quiet town into a feeding ground for the morally dejected.

So what ever happened to the good old days?

Ask any Kearneyite and they will surely tell you, Kearney is a wonderful place to live and has a lot to offer. One can acquire virtually anything they need in order to carry on with their days in a short five-minute drive to the supermarket.

There are movie theaters, parks, bars, a public library and a slew of other places one can go for a good time, so why is it that trouble seems to find its way into our lives, and what can we do to keep it out and restore our utopia?

Society cannot be fixed using a computer or a cell phone, and this may come as the ultimate challenge to us, as our culture has come to terms with a lifestyle that goes along with push-button technology so much so that we tend to forget that it takes us, the people, to fix our problems and society.

It’s about time we took a step back and thought about things with a grass roots approach.
Rather than letting our children run amok whilst we whimsically chat with friends online, we should be spending quality time with them and being there to make sure they live a healthy childhood.

If parents spent more time molding their children and encouraging them, rather than letting them play mindless video games for hours so long as they stay quiet, there would likely be a shift in the crime rates for the better, as most of the crimes we see are being perpetrated by people ranging from young adults to those in their late twenties.

Not to say that it’s the video games fault, but more so the lax upbringing that children are receiving these days.

People have become dependant on technology to a point that it has become a necessity rather than a luxury, and that needs to change if we are to usher in a new generation of moral beings to inhabit this town and make it the place it once was when we were young…our own personal Mayberry.

It would be easy to look to the recession as a scapegoat for all the recent headlines that have shocked our town into a state of fear, but the blame could more squarely be placed on our own shoulders, and its about time we do something about it.

Facebook: the unknowing crimefighting vigilante of the internet

My mother always told me to be careful what I put on facebook because I may never find a job if future employers see me slamming beers and smoking hookah. I never really took those words to heart until I read this story in the Kearney Hub about a Nebraska State Penitentiary guard in Lincoln who made a post stating “When you work in a prison a good day is getting to smash an inmates face into the ground ... for me today was a VERY good day,” which sparked replies from two coworkers who agreed with him. Now all three find themselves in a very uncomfortable spot as former State Senator Ernie Chambers is calling for their dismissal from service. This proved to me that not only was my mom right, but also that the inmates may not be the dangerous ones to watch out for in prison. Its going to be Abu Ghraib all over again if they aren't mindful of what they put on the social networking powerhouse, and it is a valuable lesson for our facebook generation to take note of.

one bad morning drive...

Just west of Minden at approximately 7:57 am, a Kearney man died after colliding with a semi-truck. The deceased was not wearing a seat belt at the time of the accident, whilst the unharmed semi-driver was. This may sound like an attempt show my backing on the issues of seat-belts and the importance they have in our day-t0-day commutes, but mainly I just want to point out that there was no reports of rubberneckers slowing the pace of our county police and ambulance aid. Perhaps this can be attributed to the fact that this wasn't happening in downtown Kearney and didn't involve a gun, or perhaps it is because it was too early for all those people that dont have jobs to be up and looming, waiting for some kind of drastic event to take place so that they can all run down to the corner and stretch their necks to search out the macabre. Too often in our community, and virtually any community around, if there is an instance of trouble that reaches the radio and internet fast enough, swarms of people will find their way to street corners and sidewalks surrounding the happenings, clogging up any chance of help to have easy access if need be.

Kearney, you disappoint me.

What in the hell is happening to this town? Growing up, Kearney was the nicest place in the world. When a scuffle broke loose you half expected Barney Fife to come ambling in, take a slow walk around the room, shifting his eyes then squinting hard, saying in an all too cocky voice, "Gun-drawing practice, ten minutes every day. If I ever have to use this baby, I want to teach it to come to papa in a hurry."
Let's face it, Kearney was our own personal Mayberry, tucked away safely away in the heart of the Midwest. It was what Dobytown would have been like...safe.
Recently, over the last few years, Kearney has been home to a lot of trouble.
A murder of a young woman, her trailer burned.
KMart is robbed at gunpoint.
Wells Fargo has a hostage situation, and now today we have teenagers robbing an innocent old woman for Oxycontin, one of which was her grandson. These people are staining the sheets that Kearneyites sleep on each night, and we should not stand for it.

For the love of money...it's time to ask "why?"

With Nixon there was Watergate, with the (2nd) Bush administration there was Abu Ghraib, and the New York school system had the Queensbury Town Board.
For longer than we probably would even care to know, the government has been keeping the us in the dark, acting on secrecy and spending millions in taxpayer dollars for budget plans that, because of "confidentiality agreements," we as the general public have no idea about. So why are we so concerned with it? The answer kiddies is the fact that we, the people of this once great nation now teeming with scandal-stricken headlines gracing the front pages of almost every major publication, we are the ones paying for these scandals. We are the ones paying the money the government is spending in secret, and when we try to ask why the money is being spent the way it is, big brother tells us to simply shut our gaping maws and go back to our daily lives, AND FOR THE MOST PART WE DO! After reading through the editorials, I was happy to find that some people still care about the happenings that go on behind closed doors with our high ranking officials, but for the most part, it seems, people are indifferent or too afraid to voice their opinions. I think it is our definite right to know what the hell is going on, and why for instance $80,000 was paid to a teacher to end a contract. Sure, I dont live in the area and I was virtually unaffected by this, but if it is going on elsewhere, God knows it is happening here. Isn't it about time we stand up for ourselves and be the men and women we were born to be. Isn't it truly time for change...and I am not talking allocating Billions for health care here, I am talking about the simple right to know what our hard earned money is being spent on and why. It's time for some answers, but, as the articles prove, answers WILL NOT come if questions aren't asked. I say we go into these sorts of situations with the same mentality we had as children in a toy store. If you ask for a toy (answer) and your mom (government) says no, as again and ask louder. Keep asking until she either buys the damn thing or drags you out of the store in sheer and utter embarrassment. It always worked well for me anyways....

pay those damned parking violations!

I was just perusing through today's Omaha World Herald Newspaper, reading the Midlands section to check out my favorite column which is Robert Nelson's informative and opinionated front page writeup of section B, and there was a piece entitled "Check your mirrors for scofflaws" informing people that ignored parking fines will result in further financial punishment on the beholder in the market of $20. I know this doesnt seem like much to the hardworking middle-class, but as little as twenty bucks could buy a case of beer, a lapdance at a stripclub, a new t-shirt or a plethora of other things....Hell, give it to Haiti, but why pay more to those assholes at the DMV or the couthouse, I mean, what are they giving you?

Did Jesus spank his little saviour?

When I was growing up, my mother felt the constant need to remind me that Jesus was always watching my every move. When the day came that I discovered masturbation, I was so horrified of the thought of our Lord looking down on me that I would often find myself slumped down in the corner of our old storage closet with the lights off, a flashlight, a few pieces of toilet paper and the most current JCPenney catalog that we had (I was young, people...). I would keep the lights off because A) I was sure from my years in catholic school that Jesus was God in the form of man, therefore, like me, he could not see in the dark, and B) my mother had a crucifix and/or picture of the guy in virtually every room in the house. I'm not exactly sure when I fell out of my faith, or whether or not it had anything to do with masturbation, but I'm just spit-balling here, and I am pretty sure that if the catholic church was okay with the act of self-fulfillment, more people would be there on Sunday dropping money into baskets, paying for their salvation. I think that if God loves us and wants us to be happy, masturbation and premarital sex should be a requirement to get past St. Peter...Take a few tips from my good friend Kenny, who has been pimpin since pimpin was PIMPIN....sex is cool, and oh yea, be sure to join my group on facebook...Kevin's Crusade for Abstinence and support my cause!

What's so super about the Super Bowl

Seriously, what is the first thing that comes to your mind when you hear the words Super Bowl? For Willie Nelson, its probably a giant bud of marijuana, and for most of the country football comes to mind, but for me, its just another excuse to get as drunk as I possibly can and urinate off the roof onto my friend's car whilst screaming about the lyrics to a song by Slayer. This year I chose an alternative route. I actually watched the game, and I got to say, The Who have still got it.

Effort to repeal Nebraska helmet law still stuck in neutral. FINAL DRAFT

Imagine Peter Fonda riding his chopper down an open stretch of highway in 1969, his hair blowing in the breeze across the collar of his black leather jacket; his red, white and blue helmet riding passenger on the seat-post behind him.

With Spring poking its head eagerly around the corner, it's easy to realize that soon enough the sun will be shining down brightly, the trees will have budded bright and colorful leaves, and the sound of high octane motorcycle engines will once again dominate the roadways.

Interstates and highways across the country will be teeming with pulled back pony-tails flailing in the breeze, men and women everywhere living out thier rebel-set dreams on a long stretch of blacktop, that is unless they are riding through the Good Life State.

Once again, Nebraska Legislative Bill 200, a proposal that would repeal the state's mandatory helmet law for riders 21 and over, failed to reach the amount of votes needed for repeal, thus creating yet another setback for cyclists seeking the freedom to ride their bikes with thier hair dancing in the breeze behind them.

Thursday, February 11 marked the fourth time in the last two decades that repeal measures have reached the full Legislature since the helmet requirement was reinstated in 1989.

The day also marks the fourth time in as many tries that the efforts have been for none, as the Legislature recieved 27 of the 33 votes needed in order to repeal the law.

Don't voters realize that 30 out of 50 states can't be wrong. Not to mention the fact that repealing the law would bring in much needed business and tax dollars that go elsewhere because of our helmet law.

Sturgis, SD has made a name for itself as the Biker Capital of the World, with people coming from all over for it's annual summer festival, which come August will be celebrating its 70th year in exhistence.

Many riders bypass our state, opting to go around rather than through it, because we have taken away their free will in choosing whether or not to wear a helmet.

So what ever happened to this supposed "Land of the Free" we are living in?

Aren't there more pressing matters at hand, or do we really need to deny someones right of free will and choice?

We live in a state wherein upon reaching the age of 21, individuals have the right to drink alcohol, smoke cigarettes and abort a child if they so deem it necessary to upholding a conventional lifestyle, so why is it such a big deal if someone of the same age wants to ride a motorcycle without a helmet?

It is not so much a question of safety as it is one of control. Perhaps Sen. Scott Lautenbaugh of Omaha said it best when he questioned, "Whose rights do we trample on next?"

Watch out mall-walkers, your time could be coming very soon.

Helmets! Safety might soon be a mtter of choice as Legislature opens debate on mandatory helmet laws.

There is a debate currently being held about the importance of helmets when operating motorcycles in the State of Nebraska. Is the proposal is approved, Nebraska riders over the age of 21 would be granted with the option of whether or not they want to wear a helmet. Are they NUTS??? What the hell? I saw Easy Rider and I understand that Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper are total bad-asses sans-helmet, but did we forget the end of the film. Death! sure they were shot at, but I am sure the impact their skulls made with the pavement (unseen in the film, yet easily imaginable) didnt help with their chances of possibly recovering. I can't help but say that although this would save the state much needed funding from lost tax revenue, we would essentially be increasing the risk of taxpayers getting killed. I hold faith in the fact that the attempt to end the mandatory helmet law has failed since 1989, but in today's society, with drugs being legalized and, generally, the overall state of things, Anything could happen...

$20 to set up a facebook account...ludicrous!

Look in the regional briefs section in today's Kearney Hub newspaper and you will see it. Lexington, NE will be holding a Facebook start-up class in which applicants pay twenty dollars to sit in a room and be informed on how to type their name and favorite things. Basically, they tell you what the 'Sign Up Now' icon means...word for word. If I would have know this, I would have been holding weekly classes for ten bucks a pop since 2004 when the social-networking giant started. It irks me that I never think of things like this, because I would love to be able to say that facebook is paying my tuition! Anyone want to learn how to turn on a coffee machine or know what the play button does on their stereo, because I would be glad to help for a price.

I know that there are some people out there that just don't understand computers, but this is damned ridiculous!

OMFG! Don't drop the babbbbbby MJ!

Breaking news! MJ returns from the dead and resides in garbage trucks; eats babies.

Infidelity Happens: Should we really punish Tiger so much for bringing the wood?

Its a long par 5 to forgiveness, and for golfing sensation Tiger Woods, this may well be the toughest hole he's played in his entire career.

Just type in his name on YouTube and you might be surprised at what you find. Surprised, that is, if you have been hiding under a rock for the last two months.

The popular website is overflowing with videos in which people 'bash' the superstar for his moral wrongdoing. I actually had to do a detailed search just to get a video of Woods actually golfing, and what’s worse, the barrage of negativity that has fallen upon him shows no signs of slowing down, as everyone in the world thinks that you and I, the consumers, want to know their take on the situation.

With new media surfacing daily dealing with his infidelity, it's going to take a lot more than a good golf swing for Tiger to get out of the woods this time, as Americans seem hard-pressed to let him get back to living his life.

But why is it that we care so much about his cheating? Did he cheat on us as fans? Did he not give it his all in every competition that we watched him play? It seems to me that the only thing fans love more than cheering on their favorite athletes is watching them fall from grace. Why is it that we are so surprised by his actions, its not like this is something we haven't seen before.

Wayne Gretzky did it, as did Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant, and no, I am not talking about winning championships here. These superstars have something in common with Tiger in that, yes, they are professional athletes, but more importantly (at least in the media's eyes) they have all cheated on their wives and been publicly scorned for it. The three also, however, stand testament to the fact that time does in fact heal all wounds...time and a hefty amount of cash.

Namely the only difference between their stories and Tiger's, aside from the number of mistresses, is the fact that Tiger stands to lose a great deal more than any of them, and he isn't the only one taking a blow to the pocketbook.

According to ESPN, Nike stands to lose somewhere in the market of 400 million dollars this year due to the scandal. The PGA will suffer too, as Tiger accounted for roughly 40% of their total revenue through merchandising and endorsements.

It seems to me that the only ones benefiting from this whole thing are the employees at the sex addiction clinic that Tiger recently was reported to have checked in to.

I’d like to say that Tiger's wife could benefit from it due to the settlement check she will likely see should divorce papers get filed, but the shame and embarrassment she has faced from all of this, added to the prospect of seeing her family fall apart before her eyes is not something I would ever call a win.

I almost feel inclined to go as far as saying that she could potentially be the cause for all of this. Maybe she is a terrible lay, or maybe she just didn't put out enough. Regardless of the cause, its time to let it all go and move on to more important things, like when Platte Valley will be able to start selling their micro-brews to their slews of thirsty patrons.

In the sports world, big name stars are synonymous with infidelity and scandal, and society seems ready to point a finger at the drop of the pants.

I say pants or no, it's about time we stop concerning ourselves with their home lives and start let our athletes do what they do best…entertain.

'Impeccable' Tiger Humor! (Taken from sport24.com)

A Mexican woodpecker and a Canadian woodpecker were in Mexico arguing about which country had the toughest trees. The Mexican woodpecker claimed Mexico had a tree that no woodpecker could peck. The Canadian woodpecker accepted his challenge and promptly pecked a hole in the tree with no problem. The Mexican woodpecker was amazed. The Canadian woodpecker then challenged the Mexican woodpecker to peck a tree in Canada that was absolutely 'impeccable' (a term frequently used by woodpeckers). The Mexican woodpecker expressed confidence that he could do it and accepted the challenge. The two of them flew to Canada where the Mexican woodpecker successfully pecked the so-called 'impeccable' tree almost without breaking a sweat. Both woodpeckers were now terribly confused. How is it that the Canadian woodpecker was able to peck the Mexican tree, and the Mexican woodpecker was able to peck the Canadian tree, yet neither was able to peck the tree in their own country? After much woodpecker pondering, they both came to the same conclusion: Apparently, Tiger Woods was right when he said, your pecker gets harder when you're away from home.

A lion wouldn't cheat but Tiger Wood

Ok, we get it already. Tiger Woods, the best golfer ever to set foot on the fairway, is living a life teeming with infidelity, but should that really be grounds for him to lose sponsorships, have his personal life displayed on the front page of every newspaper and have to resort to taking a brake from the sport he essentially helped make so popular. Tiger alone accounts for a major portion (somewhere around 40%) of the PGA's yearly revenue. He achieved god-like status and brought much needed diversity and excitement to a sport that before him got very little attention. Sure it is popular, but the ratings soared once Tiger clinched his first tournament win. The emotian he displayed on the course touched people. His trademark fist pump has been mimicked on the links for years, and now that is gone because he couldn't keep it in his pants until he got home to his wife and kids. Ok, ok, I know that it is wrong what he did, but it happens everyday. He didnt kill anyone, he didnt cheat on the course, so why should he take a break? Do people remember that we fell in love with him for his skills on the course, not for his skills with the ladies? Nike is the only one who has stood behind him through all of this, and they stand to lose an estimated 400 million dollars in the 2010 calendar year because of all this. Tiger isn't the only on with something to lose here...and if something doesn't change fast, the golfing world could fall into obscurity...Can't we talk about something more important now...like health care or the super bowl?

A flavor for just about everyone!

WANT WHITER TEETH?

Today Facebook suggested that I reconnect with my mother, so I called her and we talked and cried for hours...

When is enough going to be enough for Mark Zuckerberg and his team that they will stop updating their social networking megasite with constant add-ons and new applications? Is it not enough to just chat with people? Yesterday I signed on to find out that I had been struck in the face by a leather pillow in the new application pillow fight, and I must admit that I did not find humor in this. First of all, that would hurt like a bitch, and the pain would sting, making your eyes tear up like the first time you fell off a bike, or the first time you accidently touched the hot stove burner. Secondly, there is no need for that shit. If you want to hit me with a pillow, I will gladly display my pillow-wielding prowess and beat you down, but hitting me over the internet doesnt phase me, it only makes my inner pillow-warrior angry, and soon you will be answering your front door to one of my throw pillows from my couch, and you won't have a damned clue what the hell just happened to you. Mark Zuckerberg, if you are reading this, and if I can find a way to bypass your security systems, know that my giant crocodile pillow is coming for you, and he will be hungry...

I realize I have just spent the better portion of this post just rambling, but that pillow to the face really hurt...Suggestions need to go as well. I think that I can manage who I want to talk to or connect with myself. I don't need a computer to tell me I should talk to my own mother. I talk to her numerous times throughout a typical week, but when I see that suggestion on my homepage, I start feeling guilty and decide that I should call her more often. Facebook has essentially slapped me in the face and made me seel bad about myself in one click of a mouse. THANKS FACEBOOK!
Everyone should join the Kevin Whetstone Euphorium however, as that would be most sweet....

Two is nice, but if the hat fits, Evgeni Malkin knows how to wear it

Evgeni Malkin scored an empty-netter in the closing seconds to solidify one of his better performances of the season, capping a hat-trick to lead the mighty Pens past the Islanders in what could have been one of the better comeback/upsets of the year. Leading 4-1 after a strong showing from both Captain and Alternate Captain (Sidney Crosby and Malkin), the Pens let go of their lead early in the third period, sparking the Islanders to come back and tie the game at 4's with 12 minutes to play. It seemed as if the momentum had shifted in New York's favor until a blistering slap-shot from the big Russian found the back of the net and hoisted the Pens to a 5-4 lead with 8 to go. Malkin followed up with the empty-net goal, marking his fifth career hat-trick and the 17th goal of the season. Sidney Crosby, Penguins captain and arguably the best forward in the game, glided over the ice with finesse that would make Gretzky blush, finding the net two times for his 31st and 32nd goal of the season, putting him two goals and 4 points shy of the top spots in the league in scoring, vying (respectively) neck-and-neck with Caps star Alex Ovechkin, who acted as the bane of the Penguins playoff hopes last year, as he almost ended their cup hopes single-handedly with a stellar performance. Veteran Bill Guerin also found the net, marking his 16th goal of the year. All in all, the Pens put up the numbers to win the game, but it was not the most notable victory of the season by far, but it will aide in keeping the hopes alive for back-to-back Stanley Cups. GO PENS!
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A 40 Million Dollar mistake?

When I rolled out of bed this morning at precisely 8:27 a.m., it was already well known to me that when I got online to view the news today, something about Conan O'Brien would be littering the homepages of many of my favorite news sources. As I prepared my shower, I couldn't help but continuously wonder as to how much money Conan would walk away with, and then I began to wonder how pissed off he was going to be, despite the fact that he would be making enough money from the deal to feed an entire third world country for quite some time. I'm sure Haiti wouldn't mind a cool million in disaster relief funds right about now. Logging on to CNN's website, I did a quick search on Conan and, very unsurprisingly, came to find that if Conan agrees to walk from NBC, they will pay him a hefty sum of $40 Million. No doubt this is not enough to cover the stress and embarrassment O'Brien will probably claim, but I have to wonder, is this a good deal for either party? NBC sure seems to think so, putting a heavy cross upon the aging shoulders of 17-year Tonight Show veteran Jay Leno. I don't know why, but I don't see Leno acquiring the same kind of viewer fanbase that he used to have, as the younger generation has an easier time identifying with O'Brien and his antics. Whatever the outcome may be, I am just ecstatic to see that the deal is finally nearing a close, and soon this mess will be swept under the rug...a fate O'Brien's television career may soon face.
CLICK ON PICTURE AT TOP OF PAGE OR ON THIS LINK TO VIEW STORY

Hello World

What's up everyone? Welcome to my digital space!

Forza Inter Forever

With the new year upon us, it is hard not to think of things to come. Serbia is a contender this year, Stankovic is in good form to captain them alongside Vida, and I have high hopes for the Serbs this time around. And as for my club team desires, it looks like Inter will be able to clinch the Scudetto yet again, for a jaw-dropping fifth in-a-row. FORZA NERAZURRI!!!!