Summer Photo Adventure: The "Watercolours" House of Edisto Beach

In July,  my family and I were invited to experience an incredible house on a beautiful beach. My Mom had visited this massive four-story beach house before, and had been raving about it ever since. She had been hoping for months that my kids and I would get to see it.

Once I saw it for myself, I understood why Mom couldn't stop talking about it. I decided to document the experience as a photo blog so that I'll always have something concrete to look back at to remember this adventure (the pictures also serve as inspiration for my own dream house.)

Here are the photos from that awesome summer adventure with few textual interruptions...7.04.11 - Summer Photo Adventure

I Kissed A Squirrel

"I Kissed A Squirrel" by Shane McElveen and Curtis Hart
(based on "I Kissed A Girl" by Katie Perry)
 
v1
Am             C                  Dm                   F
This was never the way I planned / when I came to the convention
Am             C                  Dm                   F
Had one too many drinks oh man / Lost all sense of dimension 
Am             C                  Dm                   F 
Furries I'm not used to / How'd you get that costume on? 
Am             C                  Dm                   F
mor-bid-ly curi-ous for you / just wanna get my fur on...
 
Chorus: 
Am             C                  Dm                   F
I kissed a squirrel and I liked it / the taste of her nutty bits, oh 
Am             C                  Dm                   F
I kissed a squirrel just to try it / never thought I'd prefer rodent 
Am             C                  Dm                   F 
Her nose felt so cold, her fur was so tight / Don't mean I'm vegan tonight. 
Am             C            Dm                F
I kissed a squirrel and I liked it (I liked it)

v2
Don't usually go for small game / it doesn't matter

Love it when you chitter my name / my pervert's nature

It's not what PETA would do / Not how humans should behave

Thinkin' with the wrong head / Beast-i-al-i-tay!

(Chorus)

Pre-chorus:

Those anthromorphs, so magical / Fuzzy soft snout, so kissable.

Just wanna squeeze, so hugable / Too good to, de-ny it

Fluf-fy soft tail, I think I'm spent!
 
(Chorus)
 
END.

The Pee Pee Dance

Just because I'm feeling silly...

"The Pee Pee Dance" by Shane McElveen

(based on "Safety Dance" by Men Without Hats)

 

 P-p-p-p P-p-p-p pee-pee-pee-pee-pee-pee
Pee Pee, Dance!

[Spoken]
I can pee when I want to
I can sit down on the can

But my friends all stand and if I don't stand
They'll wonder if I'm a man
I can piss where I want to
If I'm given half a chance
But I gotta go soon `cause if I don't go
I'm gonna do the pee pee dance
Yes I'll dance

[Sung]
I can pee where I want to
I can leave my house behind
Run into the woods and piss in the woods
And show my white behind
I say, I can go where I want to
Where no one will ever see
I can squirt like the coach from League of Their Own
Take an hour just to pee
Pee pee dance
Dance!

We can pee when we want to
We've been waiting, having to go
And we can stand here sweet and spray on our feet
Or run out back and loose the hose
Say, we can run in the girl's room
We won't get another chance
Or you can act upset like you've never done it
And stay and do the pee pee dance

[Refrain]
Pee pee dance, wee wee dance
Grabbing' willy while I prance
Pee pee dance, wee wee dance
Gonna soak right through my pants
Pee pee dance, wee wee dance
Cross my legs and start to pray
Pee pee dance, wee wee dance
Everybody back awa-a-a-ay

Pee pee dance
I'll do the pee pee dance
I'll do the wee wee dance

P-p-p-p E-e-e-e E-e-e-e P-p-p-p E-e-e-e E-e-e-e
Pee pee, dance!

We can pee if we want to
Every day and every night
If you back your bowels up, you'll screw them all up
Then nothing will come out right
I say, we can piss if we want to
We can use the public john
But don't talk in the can, cause if you talk to me man
Well then you're no friend of mine

[Refrain]

Is it safe to pee, oh is it safe to pee [6x]
Pee pee dance

The Night Before Rapture

`Twas the night before rapture and all through the place
everybody was snoring, pillows stuffed in each face.
 The kidlets were trumpeting snores as an art,
learned from their father (with the occasional fart.)

 I sat wired on coffee, at my monitor I stared
with visions of heaven and how I'm unprepared
to be hauled into space on this balmy of nights
to sing with the angels about godly delights.
When what to my rock-deafened ears did give sign
but the Son of God! Jesus Christ! I ain't lyin'!

He smiled as I jostled to delete all my pron
and said, "Too late to worry with all that now, son.

I'm here to tell you to calm yourself down.

Coming tonight? Man, I'm always around!

The guy you called faggot and bullied in class.

The girl you picked on because she had a fat butt (got ya.)

I asked for some help, and you wouldn't buy food.

The old lady that stumbled, and you acted so rude.

"I'm not here to make you feel guilty or lowly.

I'm not here to make you tell me you're not worthy.

I came to bring peace in a world full of war

and tell you what virtues and honor are for.

Not to give you excuses to hate and to maim

or burn those that differ, or kill in the Name.

Don't worry about rapture or when I'll ride through;

just treat others as you want them to treat you."

Thoughts About Mothers and Fathers

My friend David lost his father today to cancer. I can imagine what he's going through, but it's just speculation and sympathy. I have no way of knowing the pain and loss that he's feeling. I've realized over a lifetime of days like this that you can feel sad for your friends, and you can feel relief that their loved one isn't in pain any longer, but there's just nothing to be said. There are no words you can say that will bring their loved one back to them. You can't fix it for them. All you can really do is be around if they do want to talk...or if they don't.

 You can also be thankful for the loved ones you do have, whether they be partners, parents, children, siblings or friends who might as well be siblings. I thought long and hard today about my own family's relationship. There have been ups and downs, like with any family, but late last year was a turning point for us in that we all seem to appreciate each other more now. We try to watch our mouths more as not to piss each other off. We do little things to show each other that we love each other. I'm thankful for that beyond words. I know that, God forbid, if something was to happen to any of them, I'm at peace with them and they know I love them. I think in the end, that's really the best we can do in the face of the inevitable.

Over my lifetime, I've been incredibly blessed to meet a great many people who I have loved, learned from and befriended. I have always known that if the worst happened, I have a roof over my head and somewhere to have a meal. I have always known the companionship of friends. Friends have become brothers, sisters, fathers and mothers to me. I hope that these dear people know how I feel about them, b/c they have made my life full and interesting. I have never walked completely alone...I've never had to. For that, I am extremely thankful tonight.

I don't know when my own Dad's time will come, but I know that he has been more than a father to me over the years. He's been a hero, an enemy at times...but always loving and present, and more often than not, a wise friend who believes in me. When it is his time, or mine, I'll know that we loved, understood and respected each other before it was over. And I can't ask for more than that. In fact, I'm damn lucky.

To my own Mom, I love you, Mom. Thank you for everything. Happy Mother's Day.

To Melissa, thank you so much for our children, and your love for them. They are the light of my life. Happy Mother's Day.

Finally, to all the ladies who have been like mothers to me (I think you know who you are,) thank you all for your love and support. Happy Mother's Day.

On the Death of a Monster

Those who slay monsters must remain emotionless, excluding the feeling of relief when the deed is done. A slayer of monsters must remember that if the monster is allowed to live, the monster will bring about more death to those who are undeserving of such horror.

To feel sadness over the death of a monster is kind, but must not stay a slayer's hand. To revel in the death of a monster is to become a monster yourself, a piece at a time. In the end, when the trigger is pulled or the blade falls, the end goal of the violence must be a gift of peace; a peace that the monster could only achieve in its death. An end to the violence inherent in its existence.

Birthday parties, tornados and explosions! Oh my!

Dude. What a day.

My best friend/roommate Curt and I went to our friend Jessie's birthday party today. Jessie is a really inspiring guy. He's in his mid twenties and is an up-and-coming local artist. He works hard at his art, and his dedication reminds me time and again what a lazy bum I can be. He's funny, he's positive, and he's just the kind of guy that you're always glad you took the time to visit with. I've never left Jessie's company feeling anything but uplifted. One more thing; Jessie was in an accident years back, and is now in a wheelchair. I say in one, not confined to one, because Jessie in no way allows his life or his amazing spirit to be limited by the constraints of his body.

I didn't even know that Jessie existed until Curt called me from The Repair Shop (the computer repair shop where Curt works when he's not directing movies, writing movies, attending parties or antagonizing me) one day and told me that Jessie might want to buy my Wacom digital art tablet that I barely ever used (I realized too late that I still prefer illustrating on paper.) Jessie hangs out with Curt and David (Curt's boss) at the shop some afternoons. So I brought the tablet to Jessie that same day and let him take a look at it. In Jessie I saw an enthusiasm about his art that made me smile, and made me remember that love of art that I thought had been burned out of me over the years. I knew after that first conversation that I'd made a new friend.

Jessie's birthday party today was one of those days that I never saw coming, but turned out to be the kind of day that you tell stories about for years. First off, it was a party on Jessie's family's land, a large tract of farmland at the top of South Carolina. A tiny graveyard surrounded by a few tall trees marked the dirt road that led to the party. In a small clearing between a recently planted corn field and a treeline that masked a gorgeous pond that looked more like a small river, a few cars were parked near a camp setup with a tarped-over kitchen, several camping tents, and a few tables. Jessie's big white van was parked in the midst of it. I met some cool people and had good food and good conversation.

We all knew that it was supposed to rain today. Jessie's parents were adamant that the birthday party would go on, rain or no rain. I was not aware until too late of the tornado watch that was underway for Dillon county (aka. where I'm at.) But I figured we'd be fine. Some rain here and there, but a little water never hurt anyone. Everyone else seemed to be in the same mindset. After a few hours of threatening cloud cover, it started raining in earnest. We all retreated to our vehicles to wait the storm out, then resume Jessie's party.

So Curt and I sat in Old Blue (my blue Ford Explorer that's been in the family for years,) listened to music and waited. The rain fell, and the wind picked up. A few tree branches fell on and around the cars, including Old Blue.

Me: Maybe I should move the car over.

Curt: Nah, we're probably fine...

We opened the skylight and looked up at a huge branch right above us.

Me: Forget this...

Curt: Let's move.

So I moved Old Blue away from the trees, behind another car. The cars were all basically in a straight line on the edge of the field now. The wind and rain picked up, and before I knew it, I looked out of my driver's side window and my eyes grew wide. A huge sheet of gathering rain, wind and dirt/dust came at me and slammed into Old Blue. All the cars were rocking now. I looked at the trees, and the smaller ones were bent nearly in half. By the time I was done looking around in that amazed, dumbfounded, trance-like state, it was over.

We all stepped out of our vehicles, and Jessie's dad, Jake, started pointing at the old graveyard at the entrance to the dirt road. The tallest tree in the graveyard had been broken bust above the base, and the rest of the tree was laying over the graveyard at a right angle. The tornado had passed right beside us. The tarp-covered kitchen was a wreck afterward, but everything else was easily salvaged, and no one was hurt.

A bit shaken up, we continued the party nonetheless. More people showed up, and we had more good food and good conversation. Night fell, and it was time to set off some fireworks. One of Jessie's old friends had brought some primo Black Knight fireworks. Super loud, excellent bang for your buck. Unfortunately, these were set off (I'm not going to say by who, but no, it wasn't myself, Jessie or Curt) too close to the campsite. In general, the fireworks went off in an array of wondrous technicolor fire just above our heads accompanied by really satisfying cannon-like BOOMS. However, two of the "throw it and hope for the best" fireworks were much more interesting.

There were two of the W.T.L.S. (pronounced Wootles.) The first crazy Wartime Terrorist Light Show began when a firework was thrown too close to the cars. The firework went off, propelled itself between two cars, and then went off in a beautiful, if blood-curdling, array that sent people cursing, screaming and scattering like mice. No one was hurt.

The second crazy W.T.L.S. basically landed right in front of the now-huddled group of onlookers. Just as it went off, I watched at least three girls run by me at really admirable speeds. When my head was tucked inside of my outstretched jacket and I was praying for the best. The streams of colorful balefire that flew past me missed everyone (again, no one was hurt except for the newly-singed firework tosser), so I took that as a really good sign, ate a few bonfire-scorched marshmallows, enjoyed the company of friends and new cool people, and chalked all of the day's incredible, unforgettable events up to this:

God still likes me, and I'm doing something right. Happy Birthday, Jessie.

Circle of Life, Circle of Dreams

Sometimes old dreams die. This is natural. But when they do, it becomes more important than ever to plant seeds for new dreams to grow. Our dreams, our hope, our faith; these are the things that truly keep us alive.

Raiders of the Lost Mill: Failblog 1

 A few weekends ago, Curt, David (Curt's boss) and I went slogging through the swamp in Dillon looking for old overgrown mills. Our first search was a failboat, but we did find a lot of mud, stagnant water, reeds and briars.

 We started by walking around the rim of a neighboring field to find a decent place to enter the thicket of trees.

 

 The trees were very close together, and in some patches the briar bushes were as thick as tree trunks...only with spikes. trees and briars. David earned the nickname "Machete Dave" as he blazed a trail through the thicket. We followed, careful not to ship each other in the face with branches. Eventually, we cleared the left side of the thicket and found a patch of swamp.

 We made it through the trees to find a patch of swamp, but no mill. The stagnant swamp water started to get deep just beyond the edge, so we backtracked to check out the right side of the thicket.

  David also brought his trusty sidekick, Jim Bob, who was more than happy to run circles around all of us and get his doggy bits cold and wet.

 Apparently Jim Bob thought Curt's rubber boots smelled interesting.

 We emerged from the thicket on the right side to find sparse trees, lots of reeds, and shallow water. Pretty. Annoying to walk through, but really pretty.

 Dave and Jim Bob took a break after clearing the trees and briar bushes. Note the machete in the tree. If I had been a bear...well, I probably wouldn't have had a camera.

David White (aka. "Machete Dave") and Jim Bob.

 After the break, Machete Dave blazed a trail through the reeds, toward another treeline. Dave knew the truck was that way. By this time, I'd been turned around too much to know where we were. I need to work on that.

Boots, meet swamp water. The water never flowed over into my boots, which I was quite happy about.

Stalking Curtis like a lion. A slow, loud lion. Didn't work; he knew I was there.

 Frellin' briars...I was just clearing the mud and water here. I had lagged behind the others pretty badly once we got to the mud and water; I learned that slogging through high water and sticky mud with short little Hobbit-like legs is quite a workout...one best not done in an increasingly hot fatigue-style jacket. Especially when you can't take off the jacket and tie it around your waist due to the high water and the need of protection against clinging briar bushes.

 The briars were pretty awful here, but I could hear that Machete Dave had already cleared his way free of the trees and found our truck, so I was encouraged to keep walking.

 Free at last, free at least...you get the point. We got through the trees and swamp and found our field again!

David's hands after the fact, due to briars.

So tired, muddy and a bit scarred up, we cleared the treeline and found the truck where we'd left it.

Curt, hamming for the camera.

We didn't find any ancient mills this time, but there are plenty of other places to look around here. David suggested higher ground next time...here's hoping.

Thankful

I am thankful that I have time to write. I am thankful that all of my physical needs are met. I am thankful for my children, the joy they bring me, and the joy that I bring them. I am thankful for my abilities. I am thankful for my friends and family. I am thankful for a car that runs. I am thankful that I have finished one script, and am over halfway done with a second. I am thankful for my imagination. I am thankful for my health. I am thankful for my life.

What are you thankful for?

Photo Adventure 1: Little Pee Dee State Park

So I was complaining the other day to a wise friend about some frustrations, and she advised me to go out and have a photo adventure. Basically, you go out to a place that you enjoy or somewhere you've been meaning to go, and take pictures of things that interest you.

I decided to go to Little Pee Dee State Park and do some trail walking,  since it's nearby and I've been meaning to go out there. Just when I thought that I might have missed the sign, I saw the left turn and took it, and then...cows.

Maybe it was the one white cow amongst the black cows...I don't know. She said take pictures of what caught my eye, right?

So I got to the park after a fairly long, winding stone driveway, and walked down to the water. There was a spillway to the right.

Just ahead of me was a gorgeous expanse of water and sky. There was one small canoe out; two fellows out fishing. I was more focused on the scenery, and the hint of a nice house situated out just past the treeline. It reminded me of one of my dreams; to have a nice home, set apart in the woods. Somewhere tranquil like this.

At this point I realized (too late) that the batteries in my camera were dying out yet AGAIN. So I decided to get down to business, as I had no idea how many shots I would have left. I set out on one of the Beaver trails (yes, they are named that) and found this fallen tree on the path that reminded me a lot of an ent's leg. Maybe I've just watched Lord Of The Rings one too many times...

The trail took a little while to walk, but the surprise came at the end of the trail; when I found that I ended up farther back along the park's driveway than I had begun. So it was time to hoof it back to my car. I really have a greater appreciation for my car now, I can tell you that

I guess I could have turned around and walked the nature trail back the way I came, but something compelled me to walk the road with my jacket thrown over my shoulder like some Depression Era nomad.

Along the loose stone driveway, I came upon a really cool flat open space. I pictured tons of small football and frisbee games being played here. Kids running with dogs, etc. A few picnic tables were spread out among the edges. It had a really positive, good feel to it. The sky was a bright, clear baby blue.

It was really gorgeous, and I felt grateful that I had stopped to just...be there. I determined then and there that I need to do this more often.   

Needless to say, I made it back to my car and back home without further incident. It was a beautiful day spent in a beautiful place. I'm really glad I went, and I am very grateful to my friend for prescribing this for my selfish little woes.  I definitely plan to be doing it again soon; next time with fully charged batteries.

Heart shaped box

"Tell me where is fancy bred? In the heart, or in the head?"
- William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice

At times like this, I look back a long way - all of it in fact - and I realize that I have a long way to go.

I look at a little black-haired, pale baby boy hooked up to tubes. I see his parents praying to God to save this infant son. They ask more to pray. The numbers build. God hears them, and the boy is saved.

Time passes. I see the boy, now with reddish-brown hair, making swords out of wooden fence posts and duct tape. With those swords, he conquers every land he enters, whether they be his own sheltered neighborhood, or the wilds behind his Nana's house. Fields of thick weeds become armies of goblins. They all fall beneath his imagined blade. Here, he is a fierce prince.  

Time passes. The boy grows to the age where hair on males becomes more abundant than we'd like. One day, he sees a certain girl in a bikini. A friend. Only now, after only months, she's different. He talks to her, and starts feeling a whole mad carnival of new and frightening things. He becomes a young man.

With these new feelings, a firm belief is forged in the young man's mind; the belief that one day he will find The One; the perfect woman for him.

Years later, the young man finds love, and then finds, many years later, that love does not always endure. However, he is introduced to a new love that overshadows anything he has ever felt; the love of his children. He now understands the parents who prayed so fervently for his continued life. The young man becomes a man. After the end of this long relationship, the internal knowledge of finding his heart's one true love becomes a holy grail quest.

Time passes, and more relationships fail or never truly start. The man is very specific in what he is looking for. He never regrets this, as he is not alone, and he knows that when he meets Her, he will know.

More time passes. She doesn't come. After many trials and many attempts with a heart that was zealous, exuberant and impetuous, one day he finds that his heart has grown very tired indeed. At times like this, the heart becomes as a vacation home; the doors locked, the blinds closed. To all appearances, dead to the outsider.

My heart is currently in this condition. I fear that I have badly misused it, and I'm sure other hearts as well, in my past; a fact that I greatly regret. But I cannot fix other hearts, only my own. So for now, it is locked away as deeply as it needs to be, and my days of leaping to action to woo ladies who take my fancy are quite irreversibly dead. I'm afraid that I'm finally done with a game that I never really began to comprehend.

My current plan, then, is to stop grasping at straws and jumping at gestures. To conduct myself with a semblance of dignity and just allow the chips to fall. To protect my heart, and the heart of that boy, as I should have for years. To crow and howl with the other lost boys forever.

Do I still believe in my true love? Absolutely. I just wish she'd hurry the hell up.

Five Years

For five years I toiled in the mine.
I cursed the mine, and I blessed the mine.
After five years, a glimmer of gold caught my eye
and I knew that gold was never what I sought.

For five years I sailed on the seas.
I cursed the storms, and I blessed the winds.
After five years, I saw the shore again
and I knew that the sea was never what I sought.

For five years I chased a dream.
A dream in the form of garters, hose, lace and bows.
After five years, she broke my heart by never appearing
and I knew that she was never what I sought.

For five years I ran from myself.
I cursed myself even as I prayed for blessings.
After five years, I stared at the mirror
and I knew that self respect was what I sought.









- Shane McElveen, 2010

A Relevant Quote

"I may be love's bitch, but at least I'm man enough to admit it." - Spike, Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Can I Possibly Be More Va8ue?

It's been an interesting ride; the last few years, I mean. Some days I don't feel like I'm behind the wheel at all, but maybe lying in the back seat staring at an old cigarette burn in the seat, or a place where the seam has given way, and I'm staring at the padding. Or maybe I'm just sticking my head out of the open window like a dog.

You see, if life is a journey, then I'll agree with the song that, for me, it's a highway. It has been, I think, ever since I graduated college and started paying attention to exactly how quickly the days pass by...like flashing cars.

And if my life is, in fact, a highway, then I see myself driving an old black classic car. Maybe an Impala, but not necessarily. Something long and boat-like, with four doors and endless room. And one huge front seat that you can snuggle up to a lady across. Not anything made after I was born, certainly.

So the last few years, I've found myself driving through this desert. I'd say with all fairness that I turned onto this particular road in 2005 or so, after a huge life change, leaving a road I'd been on for about ten years. There were a few pit stops, both professional and romantic, where I thought maybe I'd found a place to settle down. They turned out to be temporary, and unsatisfying. So I drive.

I've been driving this desert a long time. And though the desert is a mystical place with many important revelations, I'm tired of this particular stretch of road.

I need some new scenery.   

Top 10 figures I would prefer that people not pray to on my behalf:
1. Satan/Lucifer
2. Baron Samedi
3. Marilyn Manson
4. Any angel from Supernatural
5. The Dark Side of The Force6. Anyone from a reality show
7. Their demi god powered paladin/rogue/cleric/night club owner character from Dungeons and Dragons
8. Barney
9. Zeus, as he comes off as a philandering douche
10. That pissed off looking guy from God of War

I was born the son of a Southern Baptist minister and a public school teacher in a little town called Scranton, SC. When I was a baby, my Dad had just decided to become a man of the cloth. I was a really sick baby, born with a hole in my heart. My parents prayed that I would live. They pretty much started a small crusade of prayer to the heavens that I would make it. So I did.

They say I died for a full minute on that operating table. I'm not sure about that, but I know ever since then I've known that there is a purpose to my life. That I'm here to do things that matter.

Unfortunately, for a really long time (before and after my divorce) I let myself stagnate. I doubted myself, even the talents that I knew I had. I'm done with that now.

A little over a year ago, the company that I was working for was forced to let me go. I had just finished reading a book by Paulo Coelho entitled "The Alchemist." I was unemployed for the better part of a year, but I trusted that I would be taken care of. I prayed, hoped and waited for more to be revealed to me.

Unfortunately, I was still missing something, b/c of all the ideas I had roiling around in this creative brain of mine, I wasn't doing anything about them. I let myself get so overwhelmed by all the projects I had started that I wasn't able to finish any of them. This has been my problem for years.

At the end of December, I was blessed with a contracting job at the same company that laid me off before. This job will likely end in a few weeks, as it was meant to end at the end of the first fiscal quarter of the year. Why does this not bother me?

Because about a month ago I watched "The Secret" again. A lot of you may be reading this and immediately begin "poo-pooing" the Law of Attraction (which is ultimately the secret beferred to in the movie/book.) I can understand that reaction, b/c I had that same reaction a few years ago.

It's SO easy to say, "those folks are just trying to sell self-help books" or "that won't work," and just dismiss such simple concepts. I say they are simple concepts b/c, in theory, they seem common sense. "Think positive? Have faith? Follow my personal legend? Well I already do those things!"

Do you? I thought I did, until I paid attention to how much I focused on what I didn't want as opposed to the things I did want. How much of my energy I gave to my FEARS, which were just the dark side of my FAITH.

Once I realized that the only thing holding me back was me, I had a long talk with my best friend and brother, Curt. I told him what I'd been listening to lately and realizing. I had given him a copy of The Alchemist the past year, and it had been life-changing for him as well. We started making plans and actually encouraging each other to work on ours dreams instead of sitting frustrated and waiting on a magical answer that doesn't involve our talents.

I'm not saying that God or The Universe or what have you don't deliever good things to our lives without our having to work in the traditional sense. The truth is that they do, but you have to put in the faith/belief and energy to ghelp those thigns along. and my work, my use of my talents to create, is the greatest extension and proof of my faith in my faith and in the law of attraction that I can think of.

Because I have always known I was going to make my dreams come true. It just took recent circumstances to help me develop the strength to get up off my movie-watching ass and do something about it.

Curtis and I, at this point, are halfway finished with a horror script we've been writing. The details of our adventures breaking into the movie business will be outlined in a separate blog, http://mooksinthemovies.blogspot.com/.

Until next I blog, remember to think positive and think about the things that you want, not the things that you fear. Be grateful for what you have. Later, folks.

The "Happy" Governor

My friend Matt and I sometimes have some decent sparks of creativity. We've started countless projects together...actually I have that habit with most of my friends. I love starting projects, but I'm famously awful at actually finishing anything unless I think I'm getting paid for it.

So far, Matt and I have started (or brainstormed and talked about starting) a total of five novels, three movie scripts, two video games, five web sites, and one role-playing game system. I forget how many songs we've written, but on that front we manage to finish what we start. In bursts, but still. Baby steps, people.

The interesting thing about Matt is that he is tone deaf, but is able to keep a beat, play drums (well) and guitar (getting better). He was born that way. It's a huge accomplishment in itself, and quite a statement, that he's able to write and play his own music. And a great deal of what helps Matt is that he has rhythm, and he's a math/logistics/all-that-crap-that-confounds-me whiz.

Anyway, I've kissed Matt's pale Scottish arse enough for one blog. The point is that we had what we thought was a fairly shining moment of creativity last night. Mean spirited creativity? Vulgar creativity? Blatantly vulture-like creativity? I suppose that would depend upon your opinion, but it was creativity nonetheless.

I usually try not to get political, but here goes just a bit that was hard for me to contain.

Governor Mark Sanford of my home state, South Carolina - and several other governors in these United States that I love *salutes and grins* - well, let's face it, they've done some horrifyingly embarassing things of late. In my humble opinion, Sanford needs his head examined for fighting the acceptance of the stimulus funds that were recently accepted by...let me see...EVERY OTHER FRICKING STATE before SC, thanks to him. Those months of worrying whether police officers, teachers, and other public servants that I know and love would be laid off b/c Sanford wouldn't accept that money saddened and angered me as a citizen. So I admit to having been embittered.

Well, the stimulus issue passed, Sanford got himself sued for holding out too long...I have to wonder if something slowly snapped in our dear Governor over the past year or something. I mean...pigs in the Capitol building? Really? Mark? Dude? Man, our state gets picked on enough, bro! You're going to turn our most revered area of state government into a scene from Green Acres?

Then...this week's news. The Father's Day fiasco when no one could get hold of the Governor. He was apparently too busy "hiking the Appalachian Trail" to bother with his wife and kids, not to mention his publicists. Wow. Just...wow. On Nude Hiking Day or Weekend or whatever nonetheless? Did he think he owed the late night comedians something? B/c he certainly delivered when we all found out he cheated on his wife...in Argentina.

I had to take a damn double take! Argentina? Srsly? Nope...it was right there. Black and white. Or RGB rather. Whatever. Anyway, the point is that Sanford has nearly made himself into a wacky cartoon villain of late...(ok, an anime cartoon villain. Animes tend to show hoo hoo parts and what not...or...so I hear...anyway...) So when Matt said "we should write a funny song" last night, the first thought that popped into my head was how much material Sanford has given us to work with lately, and how genuinely irritated and embarassed I've personally been with his antics as a South Carolinian.

So Matt and I sat down and write a terribly biting parody to the song, "The Happy Wanderer" by Antonio Ridge and Friedrich Moller. Here are the lyrics, and the link to the video we filmed for the song (yes, we did).

The Horny Governor
by: Shane McElveen and Matt Broughton
with apologies to: Antonio Ridge and Friedrich Moller

The governor went a wandering, the Appalachian trail
and found his clothes out on the lawn for chasing foreign tail

Sanford-ee, Sanford-ah
Sanford-ee, Sanford-ah ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
Sanford-ee, Sanford-ah
for chasing foreign tail

It was a naked weekend for the hikers everywhere
but when you lie to everyone, it could be an affair

Monogam-ee, Monogam-ah
Monogam-ee, Monogam-ah ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
Monogam-ee, Monogam-ah
it could be an affair

He refused the stimulus funds, we thought him silly then
But then he crossed a new line with an Argentinian!

Adulter-ee, Adulter-ah
Adulter-ee, Adulter-ah ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
Adulter-ee, Adulter-ah
an Argentinian

He may still run for president, but would he give his all?
Or would he spend his time tossing his hot dog down the hall?

Polygam-ee, Polygam-ah
Polygam-ee, Polygam-ah ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
Polygam-ee, Polygam-ah
his hot dog down the hall...

So far, we've gotten a lot of positive feedback, and very little negative. So for those who have supported and encouraged us, thank you for your kind words and terrible taste in music. ;P For those of you who are offended...America is a free country. That's what makes it great. Feel free to comment. You have the right to be angered or sickened or horrified. Just try to remember that we also have the right to make these songs and speak our minds.

This song was never meant to be a celebration of lewd behavior or a man's fall from grace. It's a parody meant to point out a homored outrage at a series of failings. Sometimes you either laugh or cry, folks. We're not passing judgement upon the man as a whole or any person involved. It's simply a jibe against recent silly behavior. Jackassery breeds jackassery, and we happen to excel at jackassery.

If we can't make fun of each other and learn to laugh at ourselves, it's become a sad world indeed. We all fall down. It's so that we can learn to get back up, at least according to Thomas Wayne. So let's all try to take political jokes as they are intended.

So on behalf of self-proclaimed jackasses everywhere,
God bless America.

A Tale of Two Ladies

I'm just writing this as an update...no one needs to feel as if they have to respond; two ladies that I grew up knowing (and loving) died this week.

I just got back from the funeral of Mrs. Annie Ruth Prosser, a neighbor of mine growing up. She was one of the most remarkable women I've ever known, but you'd never have known that to have looked at her. You'd never have experienced that secret knowledge unless you were lucky enough to spend time with her and her son, Gerald. Gerald Prosser was, is and will always be one of my personal heroes. From the age of 16, he has been confined to a wheelchair b/c of an accident, diving into water that was too shallow. Mrs. Annie Ruth took care of him for years. Bathed him. Helped him dress. Never complained. In fact every time I've ever seen either of them, even if they were in great pain, they had a smile for me. Mrs. Annie Ruth was an incredible cook with an infectious laugh...Gerald is a math genius with a completely different infectious laugh.

Gerald and my Dad happened to both go to Francis Marion University at the same time; Dad drove him back and forth, and they became close friends. I grew up with Gerald's nephew, Jay, and played with him in and around Mrs. Annie Ruth's house. Gerald, always tech savvy, recorded all kinds of fantasy movies for us to watch...I remember drawers full of video tapes with little white labels and a familiar handwriting from the pen that Gerald kept strapped to his right hand. I remember how Gerald would go out for exercise in his wheelchair, and while he was out he would make up these scavenger hunt quests for Jay and I. He would show Mrs. Annie Ruth where to hide the clues, and she would plant them around the neighborhood. We'd spend all morning having our adventure, and when it was over our reward was about four bucks each in quarters (aka: "gold") to go spend at the store down the street on Double Dragon, soda and snacks. Those will always be among my favorite childhood memories.

The other lady was my Aunt Emily, my Dad's sister. Ever since Grandma died in 1992, Aunt Emily has hosted every Thanksgiving family meal at her house. She looked a loot like my Grandma, who was a saint in my book. Aunt Emily inherited her gentle, kind, giving nature. Aunt Emily was sick a long time, and knowing what she believed, I know that she wouldn't have preferred a more appropriate day than Easter to meet her God.

I doubt any of you knew these ladies with a few exceptions...it doesn't matter. Maybe through this, now you know them a little because of what they meant to me. And that makes writing it worth all the salt water I'm going to have to drain out of my laptop. Thanks for reading this.

Now go and live.

"To die will be an awfully big adventure." - J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

You're a mean one, Mrs. Grinch

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_NGAYR7RHfQ

Apparently some uber mean lady thought it would be both entertaining and politically savvy to refuse treats on Halloween night to children whose parents were planning on voting for Obama. As if taking up room in their bags with a gigantic fricking door knob hanger sporting "McCain/Palin" wouldn't be annoying enough, she's going to refuse innocent children who can't even vote the right to have candy? Wow man. Just wow.

Congrats to the guy who handed out candy to everyone, even if he made it political too. Halloween's not about politics, people. Historically it's not really about handing out candy to children either, but this is America, and this is our distortion of a pagan holiday, so stop being grinches out there, open up your hearts a little, and let the poor kids have candy the one night of the year when they actually work for it!

I couldn't resist blogging this one...people who are mean to kids for no reason really tick me off.