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O-blah-ma
A conversation on Facebook. He deleted his comments, but I knew he was going to so I took a screen shot.
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Who's In Charge Here?
I've worked in the museum business for a good chunk of time. For a while, I was a traveling exhibit manager, which meant I got to work with a lot of different kinds of technicians, temp laborers, electricians and union workers during the set up and installation of the exhibit. I know what it is like to be a punk kid asking people that have been on the job longer than I have been alive to get work done. Usually I just kill them with kindness. You need to have these people on your side as they can make your life a holy hell. Bring them doughnuts. Don't let them get away with murder, but manslaughter is OK.
So years later I was told this story and shat my pants.
We were bringing in an exhibit to a museum. The exhibit came with a set up coordinator. I had been taking care of the arrangements to bring the exhibit in and had been in constant contact with them. Our museum used the same crew of people for exhibit set up and tear down and they are awesome. There's one guy that runs all the workers and they are efficient, know the building, ask the right questions and get the job done.
When the exhibit arrived at the loading dock, our team of installers was waiting for instructions. The exhibit set up coordinator went down to the loading dock and walked into the group.
"Are you the set up crew?"
Yes, they answered.
"Who's in charge here?"
The man who always runs the crew said, "I guess that would be me."
And the coordinator said, "No. I'm in charge and don't you forget it."
Holy shit. That's the biggest douchebag move on record. Sure you make an impression, but come on.
Of course, in the back of my mind, whenever I go somewhere and am in charge of set up, I love to ask the question, "Who's in charge here?" The labor always wonders why I laugh after saying it.
So years later I was told this story and shat my pants.
We were bringing in an exhibit to a museum. The exhibit came with a set up coordinator. I had been taking care of the arrangements to bring the exhibit in and had been in constant contact with them. Our museum used the same crew of people for exhibit set up and tear down and they are awesome. There's one guy that runs all the workers and they are efficient, know the building, ask the right questions and get the job done.
When the exhibit arrived at the loading dock, our team of installers was waiting for instructions. The exhibit set up coordinator went down to the loading dock and walked into the group.
"Are you the set up crew?"
Yes, they answered.
"Who's in charge here?"
The man who always runs the crew said, "I guess that would be me."
And the coordinator said, "No. I'm in charge and don't you forget it."
Holy shit. That's the biggest douchebag move on record. Sure you make an impression, but come on.
Of course, in the back of my mind, whenever I go somewhere and am in charge of set up, I love to ask the question, "Who's in charge here?" The labor always wonders why I laugh after saying it.
Happy Birthday CD101
Our local radio station, CD101, is turning 21 years old. I can remember when they first came on the air. The are an awesome independent, alternative radio station. Thinking about this reminded my of my trip to Shreveport, Louisiana.
In 1994, I had a job that was going to have me living in Shreveport for four months. Coming from Columbus, I was worried that I wouldn't be able to get my fix of alternative radio. I wasn't even sure that the South had alternative music.
It was a Sunday night and I was driving to Shreveport. About 40 miles outside of the city I was flipping through the radio stations when some 1994 alternative song came on. I couldn't believe it. I don't remember what song it was, but it was followed up by another alternative song. For the next half hour, great alternative song after song came on. Maybe the South wasn't so bad after all!
About five miles out side of Shreveport, the DJ came on and said, "Well, that wraps up another solid hour of alternative hits. We'll see you next week for Alternative Sundays!"
And then something Richard Marx came on.
Happy Birthday CD101!
In 1994, I had a job that was going to have me living in Shreveport for four months. Coming from Columbus, I was worried that I wouldn't be able to get my fix of alternative radio. I wasn't even sure that the South had alternative music.
It was a Sunday night and I was driving to Shreveport. About 40 miles outside of the city I was flipping through the radio stations when some 1994 alternative song came on. I couldn't believe it. I don't remember what song it was, but it was followed up by another alternative song. For the next half hour, great alternative song after song came on. Maybe the South wasn't so bad after all!
About five miles out side of Shreveport, the DJ came on and said, "Well, that wraps up another solid hour of alternative hits. We'll see you next week for Alternative Sundays!"
And then something Richard Marx came on.
Happy Birthday CD101!
Fake Dispatch in (614) Magazine
I have a Twitter account called Fake Dispatch. Fake Dispatch is actually more popular than HolyJuan and I need to get over that.
Recently, Fake Dispatch was interviewed in a local magazine called (614) Magazine.
Here it is! Click the photo to embiggen.
Recently, Fake Dispatch was interviewed in a local magazine called (614) Magazine.
Here it is! Click the photo to embiggen.
Thanks For Not Being Dead Yet
(AUTHOR’S UPDATE: Ray
was alive when I wrote this. Since his death, I’ve felt bad about how I wrote
it. I think it was my way of dealing
with his illness by being aloof. So, I decided to edit it. Then, I decided not
to. Then I decided to do a little of both and add this little explanation at
the top, but not change anything below. I think Ray appreciated it at the time,
so we’ll leave it be.)
I’m not sure if there is anything called a Thanks For Not Being Dead Yet, but I’d like to start it.
Dear Ray,
Hey Ray! Thanks for not being dead yet. I’m sure you really would have little control over whether or not you were dead, but that is beside the point. You are not dead and I’d like to let you know that I am very happy that you are not.
I met Ray years ago and we I immediately clicked. And when I say clicked, I mean he immediately took advantage of the fact that I was an overconfident 23 year old dipshit.
When I was a traveling exhibit manager, Ray would come out on the road with me and help me set up and tear down exhibits. When we were in Boston tearing down an exhibit and loading it on the semi trucks, Ray told me, “Doug, go down stairs, follow this load plan and pretend like you know what you are doing.” So boldly I went down stairs and with four union guys and the semi driver standing around I said, “Let’s get this truck loaded!” The driver said, “What are we loading first?” With sweaty palms I looked at the load plan. I flipped it around in my hands and mumbled. Then I studdered. The driver said, “Hey, what’s that guy upstairs name?” I said, “Ray?” The driver said, “Go get Ray.”
I went upstairs and sheepishly said to Ray, “They want you down stairs.” Ray saw that I was beat and left without berating me. He called me down later to show me how the truck was packed and how to deal with asshole drivers and how to listen to union guys bitch and not to worry about it.
A week later, Ray and I were in Omaha setting up the Science of Sports exhibit. We were out to dinner with Martin and while ordering food, Ray ordered what I wanted to order. I changed my order because of the Food Poisoning Theory. Ray and Martin asked about the FPT and told them that if you are in a situation where you cannot afford to have everyone go down with an illness, you must order different food. Ray and Martin laughed. Four hours later Ray called me from his hotel room. He was doubled up with cramps and food poisoning. He blamed me. I can’t blame him.
When I think of Ray, I think of him in front of a lathe, turning a piece of metal or plastic, with the stringy bits curling off into a pile of the floor. I think of Ray with a Guinness and a story about living on a commune or something awesome that one of his kids has accomplished. Ray always has a solution to a problem. It might not be the one you want to hear, but it is probably the right one. Ray was always able to follow up any of my bullshit with a similar statement of bullshittery. Ray always listens to good music. Sometimes there are bongos and I can live with that. Ray has a great laugh. Whenever I needed a tool, I'd ask Ray for it. Ray would then ask me what I was trying to do and I would tell him. Ray would then hand me a completely different tool and show me how to use it. Ray would help you to hide a body or help you to find a body if you needed one to hide.
And I will never forget when Ray told me that he was happy that he and I were going to get to work together again.
Here’s to you Ray. Thanks for not being dead yet.
Karen and Calvin and Hobbes
Years and years ago, my little sister thought that it was important enough to cut out two Calvin and Hobbes comics and put them on poster board for me. I was in college at the time and thought it was nice of her.
Now years later, when I want to write something that rhymes, I find myself always writing to the last line of the poem in the first comic.
"Tomorrow's what I'm waiting for,
But I can wait a little more."
It's perfect.
And when my kids call for me to go outside, I can't help but think of the second comic when I feel the urge to tell them to let me finish my really important computer crap that won't mean squat years from now.
"In ten years they won't know I'm here,
as things like cars and boys appear,
But I'll have left them with a slight
Of love my sister did requite."
Thanks, sis.
 |
| Click. Get big. |
"Tomorrow's what I'm waiting for,
But I can wait a little more."
It's perfect.
And when my kids call for me to go outside, I can't help but think of the second comic when I feel the urge to tell them to let me finish my really important computer crap that won't mean squat years from now.
"In ten years they won't know I'm here,
as things like cars and boys appear,
But I'll have left them with a slight
Of love my sister did requite."
Thanks, sis.
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