Archive for July, 2016

Remembering Andy

Posted: July 31, 2016 in Inspiration, Life, Things I Love
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I lost one the best friends I’ve ever had yesterday. He was a guy that, when he walked up to me, AndoFaceeverything became better. He could light up a room like nobody I’ve ever known, simply with his personality. He was funny, smart, tough as nails, and as loyal a friend as you could ever ask for . . .

I first met Andy Anderson probably 50-years ago, when his Uncle Jigger began dating my sister Karen. Andy and I played sports together, went on vacations together, partied together, and got in trouble together. Andy was one of those friends that you could call at the drop of a hat and he’d be there for you, ready to do whatever was necessary to make things right for you.

I don’t know anybody who ever met Andy that wasn’t drawn in by the sheer force of his personality. He was one of those people that, when he talked to you, you felt as if you were the only person in the room. That included people that he’d just met.

In reality he probably had maybe 4-5 genuine best friends, but I’ll bet 100 considered him their best friend. Make sense? That’s just how he made people feel.

The truth is that most people who knew him will tell you that they’d never really met anyone else quite like Andy.

Andy spent roughly half his life in Ohio and half in Florida, and he had many people who loved him in both states. I didn’t get to see Andy enough in Venice, but when I did it was like we were back in Bainbridge – people yelling out to him as we passed by or waving from their front yards.

Seems Andy had won over Venice, Florida just as he had Bainbridge, Ohio.

Some of my fondest memories as a kid are of Andy going on vacations with my family. We went to Florida a few times, and once took a memorable trip to Colorado. My parents loved Andy like everyone else and although they’re both 89-years old still tell stories about him. A particular favorite is the time Andy attempted to order a Brazier Burger at Dairy Queen and ordered a Brassiere Burger instead. My dad loved that one. Still tells the story to this day. He doesn’t remember everything but he sure remembers that one.

Andy was an amazing high school athlete who excelled at football, basketball and baseball, and was inducted into the Paint Valley Athletic Hall of Fame in 2010. Andy even played some college baseball at Kent State University.

AndyTomMe

Tom, myself and Andy.

And Andy always, always had my back. One year I had been out at our County Fair hanging out with some friends. Later that night I decided to leave and was walking to my car alone. As I rounded a corner near the grandstand a group of guys from a rival high school stepped out of the shadows and blocked my way, ready to settle an old score. I was outnumbered probably 8 to 1, and I knew I was about to get a beatdown.

Then, as suddenly as they appeared the group stopped. I could tell they were looking over my shoulder, so I did the same. And there, appearing out of nowhere, stood Andy. He walked up, and without saying a word, stood beside me. The other guys then slowly walked around us and left, taking a wide berth as they did. 8 against 2? No problem. The presence of Andy had weighed the odds in my favor.

Make no mistake, as nice a guy as Andy was, he was the last guy you wanted to mess with.

Andy and I were involved in some crazy stuff over the years, and he was in the middle of several stories I’ve told right here on Shoe: Untied. I’ll give you links to a few of the more notable and most-read stories below:

OSU vs. Michigan and the Road Trip to End All Road Trips

This is the infamous trip that we all somehow survived. As always, Andy was right in the mix.

The Accidental B & E

In this little saga you’ll see how Andy, through sheer power of confidence and brashness, saved myself and a couple of others from going to the slammer.

The Festival of Leaves Parade and the Legend of the Renegade Float

This is the story of Andy, myself and some friends and the time we built our own float and crashed a local festival parade. You can’t make this stuff up, folks.

Oh, believe me, there are plenty more stories to tell.

There was the time Andy, Tom and I decided we were going to catch the infamous 22-Caliber Killers, a couple of brothers that had been murdering people around the Columbus, Ohio area.  We actually cruised the neighborhoods looking for suspicious vehicles and stuff. Yeah, this happened. Hell, it’s a wonder we weren’t arrested that night.

And one day soon I’ll tell you the story of Ando stealing the bathroom door from a local watering hole called The Silver Lady. I’ll never forget the owner telling us later, “Boys, you’re welcome to come back to my place anytime. But please, PLEASE, would you mind bringing my bathroom door back with you?”

The NC trip. I drove most of the way.

The NC trip. I drove most of the way.

On another occasion Andy and I were getting ready to take a trip to North Carolina. As always, Andy was hyped up, full of excitement for the trip. He was so pumped he made a promise he’d make the entire drive himself, all I had to do was relax and enjoy the ride. We left from my house in Bourneville at midnight for the 12-hour drive, and as we pulled out I settled in on the passenger side, falling asleep after a few minutes. Sometime later I was awakened by Andy, and the following conversation ensued:

“Shoe, I can’t make it man. I’m wiped out.”

“Uh, OK Ando, no problem. Where are we?”

It was then I looked up and saw the sign by the road that said “Piketon, OH”.

Piketon is 24-miles from Bourneville. Andy had driven 33-minutes before tuckering out, and I never let him forget it.

Here’s something I bet you didn’t know about Andy and I. We were undefeated at Chicken Fighting. Hell yes we were. Chicken Fighting is where one guy hops up on another guy’s back and takes on another pair of guys. The goal is to knock the other pair down. Hey, I was 6-2, 210 and Andy was 5-9, 240 but he was always the bottom guy. The thing is, you could never knock Andy down. He was like a Weeble, he’d wobble but never fall over. Had a center of gravity like you read about. We once ran through about 20 straight fights at Plank’s Bar in Columbus, taking on all comers. Unbeaten and unbowed, baby.

Many, many years ago I was in Chillicothe, Ohio with a date. We were at The Majestic Theater, which is actually America’s oldest continuously operating theater. It’s beautiful, with a cool balcony, ornate decor, the works. I believe it was my first date with this particular girl. We were watching a movie and the place was packed. The movie might have been Jaws or maybe The Towering Inferno, I can’t be sure, probably because I missed the whole damn thing.

You know why?

Because some asshole was continually pelting me with Milk Duds from the balcony the entire time. I kept looking up trying to catch the jerk, with no luck. I would’ve gone up there but we were in the middle of the row and I didn’t want to disturb people, unlike the jackass up top. What made it worse is that whoever it was kept hitting not only me but people close to me. Like I said, movie ruined.

As soon as the lights came up I looked up to see if I could recognize the perpetrator, the Mild Dud Dickhead if you will. I was pissed.

Anyway, as I looked up wanna guess what I saw?

Yep.

There was Andy, peering over the balcony, pointing at me with a smile a mile wide. Dude thought it was the funniest thing ever.

I met Andy in the lobby afterwards, and his his date told me he missed the movie too. He was too busy running out and buying Milk Duds.

All I could do was shake my head and smile. Hell, I wasn’t even mad. After all, it was Andy.

The truth is we never had an argument in 50-years.

And this next story sort of embodies what a young Andy Anderson was like. He, Tom and I (yeah, those three again) were returning from Columbus one late night when we stopped at a roadside rest to use the bathroom. Tom and I were back in the car, waiting for Andy, but he was nowhere to be found. Finally, in our headlights we saw him. Actually we saw the cat first, with Andy following. He’d spotted a little stray kitten and decided it needed to be taken home and cared for, so he proceeded to chase that tiny cat around the roadside rest for the next 20-minutes, despite Tom and I screaming for him to get the hell back in the car.

He never caught the cat that night, but that was Andy – impulsive, caring, and never without a dull moment.

You know, I’ve heard it said that the quality of one’s life is much more important than the quantity, and I believe that. Believe me, Andy Anderson lived a full, vibrant life full of friends and family that loved him. His quality of life was unmatched.

Andy is gone, but trust me, nobody will ever forget him. His impact was so strong and lasting that he’ll be remembered forever by those who knew him. Try mentioning his name to anyone who knew him without getting a smile in return.

You can’t.

Last weekend I made the drive to Florida to see my friend for the last time. With me was Tom and my girlfriend Amanda. Amanda had only met Andy a couple of times but of course had fallen in love with him just like everybody else. We drove all night and day and arrived on Friday evening.

You need to know that Andy, Tom and I have a theme song, a song we sing to each other every time we see or call each other. That song is “I Will” by The Beatles. As Tom, myself and Amanda walked into the front door that day we could hear a voice from a couple rooms away.

It was Andy singing the opening lines to our song.

Tom and I just looked at each other and smiled. Here was our friend, sick and with not much time left, making us laugh the moment we walked through his front door.

I’ll always be grateful for those last couple of days with Andy. He knew he didn’t have much time left but he was the exact same guy I’d known for 50-years. He was funny, self-deprecating, and full of that one-of-a-kind Andy personality. We laughed and told stories, and yes, we cried.

Like I mentioned above, I believe it’s the quality and not the quantity of one’s life that counts. Anyone who knew Andy, from his old Ohio friends to the scores of friends he made in Florida, will tell you he had a rich, fulfilling life.

As we left last Saturday we hugged and kissed, basically saying goodbye for what we all knew would be the last time. As I walked out I turned around for one last look, and there he was, smiling at me as always.

You’re gone from this earth Andy, but as I said you’ll never, ever be forgotten. Hell, we couldn’t forget you if we tried.

To wife Cindi and daughter Ashlei, I’m so glad Andy found what he was looking for. He loved you with all his heart. I know you’re thankful for the time you had with him, even if it was cut short. Quality over quantity, right?

And to Ando, rest in peace my brother. Say hello to Mom and Dad, Jigger, Mark, Scott and the rest.

We’ll be along soon.

AndyBeer

 

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The culprit.

The culprit.

Huffington Post: Isabelle Lassiter has a beef with a Japanese steakhouse in Tennessee, where a chef sprayed her in the face with a pee-pee doll in what her husband called a “sexual-style assault.”

Lassiter said she and her family were dining at the Wasabi Japanese Steakhouse in Murfreesboro on Monday when a chef produced a plastic doll resembling a little boy and pulled down its pants. A thin stream of water spurted from a hole located in the doll’s genital area and hit Lassiter in the face, she said.

She wasn’t happy.

“He pulled his little shorts down and it had a wanger and he squirted me right in the face,” Lassitter told Fox17.com.

Restaurant manager Johnny Huang said the doll is a common part of the show patrons get at dinner. Chefs use it to control flames on the hibachi, he said.

Lassiter’s husband, James, called the spraying “a sexual-style assault on my wife,” according to NBC4i.com.

The couple called the police and filed a report.

Although James Lassiter said the doll lacked genitalia, that isn’t the issue. “Just because somebody cut off a piece of plastic, OK, it’s not there anymore, doesn’t change the fact that you’re getting peed on,” he said.  

The restaurant wants to avoid pissing off other customers. It has instructed employees to ask before spraying people with the pee-pee doll.

And so it continues. The Wussification of America is alive and well in Murfeesboro, Tennessee. I mean, we’ve all been to these types of restaurants, right? They all have these types of little gimmicks. I got squirted in the eye by one of those waiters once and didn’t punch him in the temple, let alone call the cops. It’s a doll, lady. A DOLL. “Sexual-style assault?” No freaking way. Chillax and don’t be so sensitive.

Note: Love the last line in the article. “The restaurant wants to avoid pissing off other customers” is just classic, man. Classic.

Note II: That lady used the term “wanger.” She has to be from England, amirite? Damn limeys.

Dangerous road, man.

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Yep.

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The father of deceased Army Captain Humayun S. M. Khan, killed fighting for the USA in 2004, spoke Thursday at the 2016 Democratic National Convention in Philadelphia.

USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!! USA!!!

chartmedals

crow1

Crows, man.

Well, maybe and maybe not. But I bet they’re smarter than you think.

Nature can be a fascinating, crazy, shocking, and sometimes terrifying place. Just read my blog entitled Someday, octopuses are going to rule the world if you don’t believe me. Anywho, as I was perusing the worldwide interweb today I ran across an article about crows. This, of course, led to more research on my part and what I found out was amazing. Read on to find out 5-ways crows are w-a-y smarter than you ever thought they were.

  • CROWS CAN REMEMBER YOUR FACE. All crows look alike to us, right? Well, we don’t all look alike to crows. Not at all. We know this because researchers in Seattle performed an experiment with some crows around their college campus. They captured seven of the birds, tagged them, then let them go. And they did it all while wearing creepy skin masks to hide their true identity. The scientists were testing whether the crows could recognize human faces or not. It turns out they can and to a frightening degree. Whenever the scientists walked around campus with the masks on, the crows would “scold” and dive-bomb them, because along with the ability to recognize us as individuals, the researchers also learned that crows can hold a grudge. And pretty soon, it wasn’t just the first seven crows reacting. Other birds, ones that hadn’t even been captured in the first place, started dive-bombing the scientists as well. In case you think they were just telling each other “get the guy with the mask,” they weren’t. The test was repeated with multiple people wearing multiple masks, and without fail, the crows left the masked men who hadn’t messed with them alone, but went batshit crazy on the mask that had been worn while messing with them. That’s wild, man.
  • CROWS COMMUNICATE AND CONSPIRE WITH EACH OTHER. So, how did those crows above, the ones that were never even captured in the first place, know to harass the masked scientists? The answer is simple. They were told by other crows. Seems all that cawing isn’t just noise, they’re talking to one another, and doing so in a very advanced fashion. And get this – scientists readily acknowledge that crows have regional dialects. And it’s not just that they’re capable of identifying threats within their visual range and relaying that information to one another, Some of the crows never actually saw the person in the mask, but they knew about him all the same. Wanna hear something even more scary? Subsequent generations of crow, whose only experience with the “masked scientists” was apparently from stories told to them by other crows, displayed the exact same antagonistic behavior when encountering the masks. So, not only do they recognize us as individuals, but they have the means to describe us in detail to one another, even across generations. You know what that means, right kids? If you’ve ever messed with a crow, even if it was just the one time back when you were a kid, his children might be out there right now, plotting your bloody end.
  • MORE PROOF THAT CROWS HAVE AMAZING MEMORIES AND COMMUNICATION SKILLS.  In Chatham, Ontario, crows began using the town as a sort of rest stop along their migration route. The end result was hundreds of thousands of birds taking refuge in the city, and because Chatham is a farming community and crows tend to ruin crops there were major problems. It got so bad that the mayor declared war on them. The townspeople set out hoping to bag at least 300,000 of the 600,000 birds that were currently ruining their livelihood. Unfortunately for Chatham, word spreads fast in crow communities. The first day after the announcement was made, hunters went out and shot a crow.One. Crow.It seems the rest flew off and, believe it or not, began to spread word about the incident. And chillingly enough, after this incident the Chatham crows always made sure to fly high enough above settled areas to avoid getting hit with bird shot. No more were killed that year. At all.

    So, to reiterate, one crow dead out of more than half a million. One. And this behavior is not isolated to Chatham, either: Crows have been known to change their entire migration pattern to avoid farms where even a single crow has been killed in the past. Generations upon generations later, they still remember specific houses where one measly bird has died.

  • CROWS USE TOOLS TO SOLVE PROBLEMS. One early test of tool use and intelligence in crows had researchers tying a piece of meat to a string, and then tying that string to a stick. To a one, the crows all stood on the stick, grabbed the string, dragged it up, held it with their foot, and repeated the action until they could reach the meat from their cage. Hell, I had 5th graders who would fail that test. In another experiment, some food was placed in a little basket and then placed in a tube just out of reach of a crow named Betty. She and another crow, Abel, had two pieces of wire they could use to get the basket: One hooked, one straight. Abel grabbed the hooked wire and took off, selfish bro that he was. But then Betty took the straight piece, bent the wire into a hook and then used it to pull the basket out of the tube. And kids, this was the first time she or Abel had ever encountered wire.
  • CROWS LET US DO THEIR WORK FOR THEM. Crows pay attention to how the human world works, and often use it to their advantage. Some have been observed cracking walnuts by dropping them from the exact height needed to bust them open on the pavement. But in other cases, they take gravity out of the equation and just drop the nuts in front of cars, letting us do the work for them. These same crows also memorize the pattern of traffic lights to optimize the exact moment they drop the nuts, but also to make sure they only retrieve them when the light is red and the crosswalk sign is on, so they don’t get run over. Again, smarter than that idiot who jaywalked in front of you yesterday, amirite?

So yeah, crows? Frighteningly smart. On a related note, if crows and octopuses ever decide to conspire against us we are screwed, man.

Note: I got a bunch of my information over at Cracked.com, so thanks to the folks over there.

Lip synching all the latest bangers.

motoki

Ryan Fitzpatrick is a professional football player. Ryan Fitzpatrick gets paid toryan throw a football. Ryan Fitzpatrick has been on a holdout, demanding more money to throw said football. Yesterday Ryan Fitzpatrick and the New York Jets agreed to a 1-year, $12-million deal yesterday, ending the holdout.

Ryan Fitzpatrick talked to the New York Daily News Thursday morning about this trying, nerve-wracking ordeal. It sounds horrible. Here’s what he said:

“I’ll tell you what. This whole process has been so long and hard and something I wouldn’t wish upon anybody.”

Sigh.

Ryan Fitzpatrick, listen up. People who say “I wouldn’t wish this on anybody” are either battling a crippling disease or just lost a loved one, something along those lines. What they didn’t just do was sign a $12-million dollar contract.

Reality called, Ryan. It would like to get back in touch with you.

 

Amazing fact. Just look at the map. Alberta, Canada has no rats and it’s not by accident.  According to National Geographic, to stop the encroaching rodent population provincial authorities established a 380-mile by 18-mile rat control zone along the province’s vulnerable eastern border. Still of key importance, the zone remains staffed by just eight dedicated professionals.

“In that buffer zone it’s best described as a search and destroy mission,” said John B. Bourne, a man with the official job title of “Vertebrate Pest Specialist” with Alberta Agriculture’s rat control program. “It’s all agricultural farmland, and in this harsher climate the rats need to live as close to humans as they possibly can. Structures and food sources are what they seek out to survive.”

Bourne and his colleagues inspect everything in the zone several times a year. Rats try to gain a foothold, but are dealt with ruthlessly: hammered with poisons, fumigated with carbon monoxide-producing engines, and even individually hunted with firearms. Rat infested habitats, such as old farm buildings, are dismantled or destroyed.

That’s just a bunch of diabolical rat killin’ machines. Whew. Canadians, man.

rat_distribution_map_global

tokyo

Hilarity.

funny-parenting-math-tweets-15-57971f151bd75__700

This is a simulation but very fascinating.

crash

Seems like Norway pops up on my site with regularity, usually because of its natural beauty or beautiful architecture. This time, however, Norway appears because of their plans to build floating underwater tunnels.  Norway’s many fjords pose unique infrastructure challenges, ferries being too slow to handle traffic and bridges being too susceptible to harsh weather conditions, so they’ve decided to venture into the waters themselves to come up with a solution. Underwater tunnels built to accommodate two lanes of traffic will float 100 feet below the surface, possibly bolted to the bottom to create additional stability. The groundbreaking system is set to be completed by 2035.

Man, I have to get to Norway.

Norways-Underwater-Tunnel-Plans

The darker the state, the more gold medals.

map-the-states-with-the-most-olympic-gold-medals

Truth.

funny-parenting-math-tweets-3-57971f028b94f__700

Architecture, painting, poetry, music, literature, all used to be part of the Olympic Games.

1991.01.0845

Yeah. They’re out there.

sharks-on-beaches

The first of a series.

tweeet

Jeebus.

cop

My late friend Tim and I were always talking about music. We were both huge Rejected-5-Reasons-Why-Your-Small-Business-Wont-Get-Financedfans of The Beatles and had endless arguments about what Beatle album was the best. Tim was a big Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band guy and I was an Abbey Road disciple. On and on the debates raged, with neither of us giving an inch.

Aside from that argument we discussed other music issues as well. We talked about the greatest cover song, which bands sold out and a ton of others.

Then, one night Tim had an idea. We should do a radio show! Just he and I on a Sunday night, discussing that week’s topic.

I was in, man.

It was decided that we’d come up with a presentation for the local radio powers-that-be and proceed to blow them away with our idea of this amazing radio show, featuring us and our unique ideas and awesome opinions.

Were we a little egotistical believing the general public would want to listen to us? Yeah, probably.

OK, definitely.

Anyway, we met several times to organize our presentation and came up with several topics for our sure-to-be-a-hit radio show. Here are a few show themes we came up with, to name a few:

  • Worst and Best Cover Songs: We’d discuss each song, then play it. We’d take calls from our avid listeners and eviscerate them if they dared disagree with us.
  •  Best Guitar Solo: It was decided we would choose our Top 10, play each one, and talk about why we’d picked each. “Dickey Betts in ‘Jessica’, man!” “No! Eddie Van Halen in ‘Hot For Teacher!'”
  • Greatest Voice in Rock History: Again, we’d choose our Top 10, play a sample of each (guys like Steve Perry, Brad Delp and Freddie Mercury) and work our way up from 10 to 1 as we discussed each singer. As always, we’d invite our audience to weigh in with their opinions, then dismiss their opinions and toss them aside like Elvis discarded his Cadillacs.
  • Best Live Act of All-Time: Who would it be? Zeppelin? The Stones? The Who? Springsteen? No matter, our picks were guaranteed to elicit debate among our audience. Note: NSYNC and Backstreet Boy fans would suffer the fate of “The Gong”, a sound effect indicating that your opinion was in fact worthless and that you were a soulless, ignorant shell of a human being.
  • Greatest R&B Singer: Man, this one would be a fun discussion, right? Who would it be? Al Green? The great Marvin Gaye? The smooth stylings of Smokey Robinson? Russell Thompkins Jr. of The Stylistics? You don’t think we could fill 2-hours discussing this topic? C’mon, man.

Anywho, we had our presentation prepared and scheduled a meeting. For an hour we sat there, explaining our ideas for a Sunday evening show called The Barney & Shoe Rock Show. It would run from 10 to midnight and would surely be a Southern Ohio must-listen. We finished our pitch, took a deep breath and waited for a response . . .

Crickets.

Puzzled looks all-around.

Uncomfortable clearing of throats.

And then, we were politely but firmly declined. Alas, ’twas not meant to be.

We were despondent. We couldn’t fathom why the radio station wasn’t interested. I mean, they were playing some syndicated Borefest during that time slot. What the hell?

It was a few weeks later that we learned the reason for the devastating rejection. It seems that Tim and I had a reputation for a being, well, a little too outspoken and, dare I say, controversial. The suits were terrified we’d go off-script and shake the very foundation of live local radio, America, democracy, and all that is holy.

And you know what? Now that I think about it they were probably right.

A man in Florida got a personalized license plate that said “No Tag” and was rewarded with more than 2500 parking tickets.

 

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Yes. Yes you can. Read on . . .Yahoo-sad

CNN Money — It’s official: Yahoo’s days as an independent company are over.

Verizon has agreed to pay $4.83 billion for Yahoo (YHOO, Tech30), the companies said before markets opened Monday. The sale completes Yahoo’s evolution from influential search pioneer and web portal juggernaut to, in the end, a once-dominant brand that lost its way.

Parties as diverse as Warren Buffett and The Daily Mail were interested in buying Yahoo. But after a sale process that dragged on for months, Verizon, long viewed as the frontrunner, is walking away with Yahoo’s more than one billion monthly active users.

Yahoo was offered over $50-million in 2008 but was holding out for $57-billion.

Forbes called the acquisition “the saddest $5-billion dollar deal in tech history.”

Listen, I’m no financial expert. Far from it. Plus, I haven’t run the numbers nor consulted with the Shoe: Untied Financial Office to check. However, when you turn down $50-billion and end up selling for $4.8-billion that’s not good, amirite? My girlfriend on her cell phone calculator giant brain says that 4.8 is 9.6% of 50, so yikes. Guess the negotiating geniuses over at Yahoo just didn’t know when to cut and run, did they?

Geniuses schmeniuses.

Interesting.

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Seoul, man.

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