Terry: Update

I had posted about a week ago a painting that I had started that featured a childhood friend of mine named Terry. Here is a snapshot of the finished painting that Jacqi took yesterday. The color comes from the song Colours by Hot Chip. It has taken a long time for me to be able to do a painting of Terry; I have started and stopped many times over the years, but I suppose the emotions I felt were still too raw even now years later. He and I were the same age; I only saw him whenever he and I were in the hospital at the same time; nevertheless we saw each other quite a bit, and then suddenly he passed away. I considered Terry to be one of my very best friends; we talked about everything together, and yet I didn’t know he was dying. Terry was one of those people that always had a smile on their face; even if a slight one, and whenever I think of how he had held everything in and didn’t talk about what he was going through it makes me wish that I had been a better friend. Terry was only about 14 when he died; I didn’t find out about his death until after the funeral when a volunteer that we both liked a lot called me at home with the news. He said that Terry’s mother was there in an orange prison uniform with her arms and legs shackled, and his grandmother, who raised him, was inconsolable. I hadn’t known that Terry lived with his grandmother or that his mother was in prison. I suppose I could say something like we were just kids so how could I have known, but that has never sat well with me, and I think that this was why I couldn’t paint my friend. I felt I had let him down when he needed me.

            All of this is very somber and morose, and to paint Terry I had to let that go because somber was the last thing he was. We played like crazy all over the hospital; Frisbee in the halls, video games, and it was a common sight to see Terry wheeling himself from his ward over to mine balancing a lap full of board games. When I think of this it makes me feel better, because maybe Terry just needed someone to play with. Lord knows I didn’t tell him about what tests or treatments the Dr.’s were doing on me; hanging out with Terry was a vacation from all of that. Perhaps he got the same from me; Lord I hope so. At any rate it has freed me up enough to finally draw his face, and it occurs to me, in an almost surprising way, how young he looks.

This painting will be a part of the Haley Henman show – the opening reception is July 31st at 7PM. After working on this painting it makes me a lot more appreciative of the friends that I have now – I am looking very forward to hanging out and talking to friends both old and new at the reception; I’m glad that Terry will be there – if even in a small way.

American Zooniverse

Zoos are awesome, but have you noticed that all of the animals in them aren’t from around here? They are all from places far away which makes sense because who would go to a zoo just to see a house cat or goldfish on exhibit? It got me to thinking though that perhaps we ought to thank the world for sending us their exotic animals by sending a few of our own back to them. To help with this I have started compiling a list that I call: American Originals – Exotics from the country that brought you such classics as Britany Spears and Boonesfarm. 

 American Sweatered Dog – This exhibit is all about the habitat; because out of context this is basically just a little trembler in a sweater with no pants, and how are people who are living in sub-Saharan Africa or the boat people of Central Asia supposed to connect to that? 

Viewed out of its environment there might be difficulty in understanding the behavioral and survival adaptations employed by the average American ankle biter; which is why each enclosure would be a recreation of the typical American suburban home including a grandmother whose hair is permanently in curlers, and her 11 year old grandson who mostly plays video games and feeds the dog a steady diet of fudgesicles and cheese puffs – Hey, anybody could relate to that. 

Hamster in Ball – Much to my amazement many peoples and cultures around the world don’t know that hamsters were meant to live in clear plastic balls; without the ball you basically just have a rodent running across your floor, and you know – yuck. 

Furries – Your basic beast/man hybrid – not even Dr. Moreau himself could have come up with something this creepy, and may I add purrrffect. Basically this is where a normal (?) person just puts on an animal costume and hangs out with other people in animal costumes; which raises the question what a group of furries should be called: a herd? Pack? I think we should call them an awkward: as in, ‘an awkward of Furries crashed the party’ – it’s how they look and also how they make you feel; so it works on a couple levels. Monty Python did a sketch in the 70’s where groups of men would dress as mice and have clandestine cheese parties. It was meant to be a joke, but I suppose this proves that if something is on TV long enough it becomes real – after all we did make a Vulcan president. 

 Slave Man with Collar – This is a strictly urban animal, and while not perhaps exactly an animal a cage does seem strangely appropriate. Natural habitat includes hanging out in leather bars and garage conversion dungeons – to see how this is done just check out This Old House online. (Disclaimer: Not really, but heck if they did this episode I’d watch – I can see it now… 

             “Okay Bob, we’ve talked about the rack, and the scream room, and that’s all pretty typical, but tell me what you’re doing over here with the pit – Is that a pulley in your hand?”

             “Absolutely Kevin; How else would the person at the bottom of the pit get their lotion, and in these New England winters the skin dries out pretty fast.”

That’s all for now, but rest assured I will keep up the search for American Originals.

Mr. 1%

Audio Version of Mr. 1%

           I want to tell you about a person that I came into contact with through my artwork, but before I tell you about Phil Buchanan, allow me to explain how this came to be and why it meant so much to me.

           When I first began painting it was a necessary act for me to maintain my sanity. Images were pounding their way around in my head; they plagued my dreams, and I didn’t even have the luxury of closing my eyes to shut them out. I needed to let these images out, and painting allowed me to do this. Just as important as the need to express what I was going through was also essential for me to re-connect with people; to let them know that I was still here and was still me. When I lost my sight it disconnected me to a degree from those around me. People who had known me for years no longer knew how I perceived the world, and to what degree of understanding of what was going on around me. We live in a world where seeing is believing, and where to not know something is to be blind to it. Paintings showed exactly what was going on in my mind, and after awhile people seemed to forget about my vision loss altogether.

           One thing that separated me from others at first too was my anger at having lost my sight. I wasn’t angry at anyone around me, but at life in general for stealing my sight. Painting forced me to direct this anger in a positive direction. Some people have asked how I could paint up to 18 hours a day everyday when I first started to paint; well, anger can be a powerful fuel.

         The first shows I did I never let anyone know that I was blind until after the show was over. I didn’t want people’s perceptions of the artist to effect how they perceived the art – whether it was a positive or negative reaction didn’t matter because either way it detracted attention away from the art. Some stories were written in the media, and after that the idea of keeping the blindness a secret was a moot point. What I never expected were the emails that started coming in. People wrote to me asking me about my art, and they reciprocated by telling me about themselves. Emails came in from all over the world, from major cities to places in third world countries where they didn’t even have roads, but they had internet access and had seen my art online. Some emails are fluently written, some are in broken English and others I have to have translated – all are special to me. Art transcends all cultures and borders; even though two people may not speak the same language they can look at an image and both have the same understanding, and this bonding goes beyond culture, race, or religious belief. Art took me from isolation in a dark apartment to being connected with some very special people all over the world.

           The reason for this blog is because I want to tell you about one of these people; Mr. 1% – otherwise known as Phil Buchanan. When I think about courage and grace under pressure I can think of no better example than Phil and his amazing family. Phil was a woodworker who became blind either because of or from the treatment of meningioma, but he did not let this slow him down in the least. He learned Braille, the adaptive computers, and all of the general skills that visually impaired people need to get by all the while fighting a battle with cancer, and helping to raise a 5 year old daughter. On top of this he was putting together a wood working shop so that he could get back to the work that he loved regardless of his vision loss. It was Phil who inspired me to do my own woodworking when it comes to my paintings ( http://bramblitt.net/?p=641 ). He was also learning the route to his daughter’s school with a white cane so that he could take her to class as she began kindergarten. Phil, I am very sorry to say, passed away in March of 2009, but his legacy is firmly in place by the inspiring way that he lived his life, and by the wonderful family that he left behind. I actually started writing this soon after I learned about his passing, but I just couldn’t finish it until now. Ironically, while this blog is about a person who faced every obstacle with incredible courage, and who led such an exultant and visionary life; I on the other hand often take longer to process and deal with life’s twists and turns.

           We all talk about doing something with our lives; it affects me deeply when I see someone with as much heart as Phil Buchanan actually doing it. Someone who never gave up, and was always striving – not just for himself, but for his family. Phil called himself Mr. 1% referring to his battle with such a rare cancer, but his wife called him Mr. 1% for a completely different reason. She says , “Phil was one of the sharpest, funniest, most honest and most loyal friends I’ve ever known. I could always count on him to have a completely unique and insightful perspective on any situation. He really was one of a kind…a real “Mr. 1%”.”

           I hope Phil’s wife, Wendy, does not mind me using her words here; I am just so moved I had to share them, and I think it shows better than my words ever could what a special person Phil was.

           Whenever I try and explain to people what art means to me I feel that I always fall short of my goal. Art took me from being a person that was not only literally cut off from the outside world, but trapped internally as well – unable to express what I felt in any meaningful way. Art took me from being a person that had become disconnected even around my own family and friends to knowing amazing people like the Buchanans. People who have the courage to share their stories with me and hearts immense enough to bridge great distances, and call me their friend. Art has become not only my voice, but also the way through which I see the world. Is it no wonder why I am so obsessed with painting?

You Want to Pierce What? or Alternative Ways to Become Holy

    

 Real Conversations    

The scene: Jacqi and I are in the car either on the way to or from a taco joint – I can’t remember which, but I do know two things: 1. Tacos are delicious. 2. Tacos have nothing to do with this story.     

           “You know what I think I’m going to do as a reward when I meet my exercise goals?” Jacqi aks me.     

           “I have no idea,” I say being completely honest. Jacqi is a complete mystery to me, and in a moment you too will see just how deep this mystery goes.     

           “I want to get some intradermal piercings that go up my wrist; every time I meet a goal I’ll get a new piercing, and add to the design.”     

           “What’s an intradermal piercing?” I ask already wincing in anticipation of the answer.     

           “It is a type of surface piercing,” she says.     

           <a note for those that aren’t familiar with surface piercings; it is just like a normal piercing that goes through the ear except that these are done on flat surfaces like chests, arms and the like. The body doesn’t like having metal spikes driven into it, and will actually push it out of the body. Ejecting the steel in an angry fit of integumentary rage at the scorching speed of up to an entire millimeter every month or so. In this petulant fury, your body resembles nothing less than a 6 year old child deprived of his Sponge Bob and forced to watch classic cartoons instead, and can retaliate by creating a crusty weeping sore around the puncture site. The body is just one big sexy mystery.>     

           “Doesn’t the body reject that type of piercing?” I ask involuntarily shuddering – I’m a little bit of a needle-phobic.     

           “Yeah, but with this new kind they actually take a small plug of skin out of your arm, and then the base of the jewelry anchors down in the hole like the contraption that you would hang a picture on the wall with.”     

           “Let me see if I understand, they make a hole in your arm, and then put a small made for people version of a wall anchor, sort of like like what you might get from Home Depot, that spreads prongs out to anchor it in?” I could just imagine the metal feet of the device snaking its tendrils out, and unfolding beneath the skin, “That sounds – better,” I say.     

           “I’m not sure how it anchors exactly, but with these new ones once they are in they pretty much stay in,” she says.     

           “Right, and if you do well with the diet and exercise then you get to have this. I  mean it’s a reward for getting healthier – So, if I eat a donut is that enough to keep this from ever happening to me?”     

           “The coolest thing though is that you can screw whatever jewelry you want right into the post; so it is easy to accessorize”     

    I sit and think about that for a moment, “Have you ever considered a hat?”     

Note: The previous text is verbatim; except for the areas where I may have edited it to make me sound better or to cast myself in a more positive light in any way. Also, my memory tends to work better on the things that I want to remember, and in the way that I want to remember them – it just sort of drops the rest. In this my mind is both unreliable and awesome.

Denied Access! or Can you Hear an Echo in Austin?

Audio Version of Denied Access!

Jacqi and I and a few of our family and friends traveled down to Austin last weekend to attend the Keep Austin Weird 5k run; I wasn’t going to run myself, but a big part of the event is the music and festivities that surround it. We walked down 6^th street and decided to go into Treasure Island, just a little club among many others, and everything went fine until I got to the door and they wouldn’t let me in because of my guide dog Echo. The guy at the door checking ID’s said they didn’t allow dogs. I told him that it wasn’t a problem because Echo was a guide dog and she was allowed anywhere that served the public. He wasn’t having any of it, so I asked to speak with the manager. Another employee that had come over to the door as well went to find the manager, Patrick, who didn’t come to the door, but sent word back that we could not come in. I told the bouncer that not letting us in wasn’t an option; that if need be I would have the police explain the law to them, but I’d rather it didn’t come to that. I wasn’t angry; this wasn’t the first time that I had been denied access or had to explain access laws, but it is always a disappointment. He couldn’t seem to care less, so we went on the search for a policeman.

 Who would have thought we would still be having civil rights issues here in 2010? I almost felt like I had walked through a time warp and ended up in the 60’s; that makes more sense than to think that almost 50 years after the civil rights laws were passed we are still having issues.

 Please do not think for a moment though that I am comparing any rights issues that I may have with what the people in the 60’s faced. The people at that time faced an environment that was filled with anger and violence; the most common obstacles these days appear to be ignorance and apathy. I’ve run across a few religious extremists who felt I was cursed by God, hence the disability, but even these people are generally more passive aggressive than anything else.

 We found a police officer, but the evening was about to get stranger still.

The oddest moment of the night occurred while I stood and listened to an African American policeman try and explain why it was ok for me to be discriminated against; he seemed to get confused as to what he was trying to explain – tried to come at it from several different angles, and finally gave up and sought another officer for help. The second officer had a different interpretation of the law than the first, so they brought in a third and then a fourth officer. All of them had different ideas about what the law was. I told them that I actually had a copy of the law in my pocket. The guide dog school gives all of their students a laminated card with a copy of the law – while some legal jargon is so indecipherable that it will make your head spin this law isn’t one of those –  It is only one sentence long and says:

“Persons who are blind, as well as other disabled citizens, are guaranteed the legal right to be accompanied by a specially trained dog guide or support dog in all public places.” Human Resouces Code – Title 8, Chapter 121 – Sections 121.001-121.010

 The officers did not want to look at the card; they just kept saying over and over, “we aren’t that familiar with the law.” Which if you think about it; it is sort of a scary thing to hear cops keep repeating to you like a mantra. Samantha, my sister in law, wasn’t giving in an inch.

I would like to be very clear that the officers involved were extremely polite, as were we, they just appeared ignorant of what it was they were supposed to do. I was very calm because the last thing that you need when talking to someone about an access violation is to seem upset or agitated, even if that’s the way you feel, the calmer you are then the more rational your stance seems, and the more likely your rights will be upheld.

 The problem seems to be that some people even in this day and age, even trained professionals, don’t understand that it is discrimination to not allow a person with a disability access into a place of public business.

 One of the officers, once they saw we weren’t going away (again thanks Sam!) asked what I would like them to do. When we had first approached the officers I really expected to just tell them the situation and they would immediately walk over and have a friendly talk with the club owners, and that would be it. It didn’t occur to me that they wouldn’t know the most basic of the civil rights laws, and that they would be resistant to the minimal effort of even reading it when it was handed to them. When they asked what I wanted them to do it surprised me a little further because it underscored how they really had no idea of what they were supposed to do.

 I told him that I thought it would be a good idea for an officer to go over and very politely explain the law to the management of the establishment, and two of the officers went off to do so. To the remaining officers I tried to explain why this was especially important because not only was this the main street for tourism in the state capitol, but also only blocks away lies the Criss Cole School for the Visually Impaired where the blind from all over the state come for training, and what’s more the states only Guide Dog School (in San Antonio) is extremely close as well – this street of all others in the state ought to know the basic civil rights laws.

 The hero of this story is Samantha Serie; we were there in Austin to have fun and relax, and it would have been extremely easy to just sit back and do nothing while all of this was going on. If you could think that Sam would ever do this though then you haven’t met her. She is an extremely gracious and outgoing person, and a blast to hang out with; along with this she is also a very strong person who has no hesitation in addressing a problem when she finds one. I think a big reason the police finally caved in and helped out was because they knew that even if they could get rid of me there was no way they were going to get her to back down.

How important is this – to being stopped from having a drink with family and friends? Can people live without beer? That’s debatable.

Can people live without freedom? Of course they can – people in places all over the world do so every day, but not here. Not in America; we have decided in this country that freedom is important. Most of you who know me personally or are kind enough to read my blog know that I’m a pretty easy going person. What gets under my skin about denying access to people with disabilities isn’t that I’m extremely worried about my own rights. I am an adult; and I can stand up for myself even when that means that I am standing in the street with a group of police around me and a crowd of gawkers around them wondering what’s going on, and what I must have done wrong for the police to be there. That doesn’t bother me a bit; the way I see it the more people that are there then the greater chance for more people to learn about the issue.

 There are a lot of different people that have a disability (20% of the population at last count) and a lot of different types of disabilities, and not every person who is denied access, either right in your face by a bouncer like I was or because of some other flaw in the system like improper building design, is going to be able to take a stand at that moment. What really irritates me is when I think of this happening to a child. Okay, you may be asking yourself – ‘Hey John why would a kid want to get into a bar? And if they did shouldn’t someone stop them anyway?’ Ha, ha very funny – you’re a regular comedian. But, the same officers who didn’t know the laws, and were initially supporting my being denied access because of me having a guide dog will be dealing with everyone and not just my tie-dyed hair bar crawling self. Oh yeah, did I mention that I had purple and pink hair during all of this? It could have been worse – I had planned on wearing a grass skirt too, but changed my mind and dressed down before going out because it was around 100 degrees and that is just too hot to wear a bunch of plastic leis around your neck, and what’s a grass skirt without leis? At the Keep Austin Weird 5K Run the crazier you dress the more normal you are; or something like that.

 I am a fortunate person because whenever I was denied access to the club in front of my family and friends it could have been a humiliating experience, and when the police didn’t initially feel I had any rights to have access it could have been that much more embarrassing. Fortunately that wasn’t the case because of the quality of my friends and family, and like I say, I’m an adult – I can deal with this stuff. I hate to think of what it must be like for a kid facing this sort of ignorance, or for someone who is newly disabled, and just doing the best they can to deal with everything for the time being.

 So what happened? Am I angry at the police or at Treasure Island? Truthfully no, I wasn’t angry at them then, and I’m not now. I feel disappointed, and I feel like there is a lot of work to be done. Patrick, the clubs manager, was brought over by the police and apologized. He offered to buy us all a drink and I took him up on it. Treasure Island wasn’t really on the top of my list of places to hang out in by this point, but I did want the bouncers, the waitstaff, the bartenders, and the clientele to all see us in the club. To drive home the point of what equal access means. Also, it was the friendly thing to do – while the police could force them to let us in this time I don’t think that would help the next time a person with a disability darkened their door. I hope that some of the minds at Treasure Island have changed; nothing would make me happier than to hear that other people with diabilities went there and were able to have a good time.

 Thanks for listening to this rant; I know I went on longer than usual – I really appreciate your time, and if you know of anyone that has experienced a similar experience or has an interest in disability issues I encourage you to send them this blog.

Thanks again,

John

Florida fails to Ban Bestiality; Aliens Worry

 

Audio Version of Florida fails to Ban Bestiality; Aliens Worry 

Florida is apparently making another attempt to ban bestiality. Another attempt? Why is this difficult? Who is fighting against them? I’d love to hear that debate on  C-Span. 

            “The floor yields to the honorable senator from Florida.” 

            “Thank you speaker, gentlemen of the House. When I say I love animals; I mean I looooove animals…” 

 It isn’t like Floridians are pro-bestiality, in the words of Representative Mary Brandenburg: “It is yucky.” So with such vehement protests against man-creature love as this I’m sure it will get passed in no time. Not this year though because the prohibition has failed once again. 

 

This all leads me to think if there are aliens out there they may be waiting to contact us until after we get this animal-love situation sorted out. I mean if people can find a mud covered grunting pig sexy then what chance do the aliens with their svelte bodies and green skin have? Come on Florida you’re keeping us away from starship rides, robot sidekicks, and parties that are on a literal galactic scale; besides the whole animal thing is just yucky.

Facebook War!

For those of you who do not know Jacqi she is a great friend, a wonderful mother, fun to be around, and very pretty – How could I ever hope to compete with that? Well, in the real world I can’t; which is why I am declaring Facebook war on her, because in Facebook Land true lasting friendship is only a mouse click away. In this cyber world I can totally rain a hailstorm of friendship all over her amiable ways.    

We’ve all had to play second fiddle at times, be Robin to someone else’s Batman, but it’s time for we – the Dr. Watson’s, the Tonto’s, those that play the deputy in every western movie, to take a stand. We can be statistically popular too!    

The goal is for my friendship number to go higher than Jacqi’s on Facebook; the sky’s the limit. We are so lucky to live in a time where friendship is so completely quantifiable!  

What’s war without loot and spoils – so to the person that refers the most people to me to be friends I will give a 16 x 20 matted print. Isn’t offering a print of my own work a little arrogant and self-serving? Of course it is, but so is this war. There may be other loot as the war drags on; in the heat of battle who knows what may happen. So spread the word; lets amass the troops!    

Times will get hard; we will have to dig deep; sometimes pressing two or three keyboard keys at a time, and perhaps for the more coordinated of us, simultaneously using the mouse as well, but I feel we can do this. We have the technology, we have the determination, and gosh darn it we have the American spirit that’s made this county #1. Let’s do it! Let’s go to Facebook war. Jacqi, all your blonde hair, blue eyes, and perkiness can’t save you now.    

 Don’t underestimate her though! This blue-eyed she wolf can decimate us with her natural sociability, charisma, and friendliness. I’ve seen it happen before. Someone who is meeting her for the first time and are completely ignorant of her astonishing affability, and before they know it they are laughing and talking with her like old friends. It’s chilling.    

 Just think; when we emerge from the smoke, ash, and digital carnage triumphant we will force people to see just how friendly we can be! I will be giving regular updates from the front, but until then keep your heads down and you’re typing fingers limber!

I’m Crepuscular and I Feel Fine

Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk about; I remember when the night life was my life. Drinks and hanging out with friends was only a 5 minute walk in any direction. Downing a beer under the stars on top of Cool Beans, or going to hear a band in the outside part inside of T.J.’s. Now don’t get me wrong, being a dad is the best, but I was standing out in my yard a week or two ago when a car came racing down the street and I thought, “doesn’t this maniac know that kids play around here?!” – When did I become this guy? I now check the thermostat and adjust it in minute and unregisterable degrees through a series of small taps, I close doors religiously to keep the warm/cool air in/out, and I look surprisingly forward to dull evenings. I found myself looking up coupons online the other day; I didn’t go so far as to print them out, but that’s just because I’m lazy, but the intention was there and that is the scary thing.

I also find my mind wandering from time to time. By the way; does Staffordshire really contain England’s only monkey forest? Do we in America even have a monkey forest? What a magical place that would be; monkeys swinging through the trees laughing up a storm as you toss peanuts to them. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no day dreaming Johnny, I would definitely bring an umbrella rated for monkey poo with me, but still I love a good monkey forest.

Anyway, I guess what I’m saying is that I’ve noticed some changes in my behavior. Maybe there is hope though. I bet it is all about your state of mind. When my grandfather would put on his white shoes and white belt I knew he was about to ramp it up and step out; my grandmother would see those shoes and get a gleam in her eye, and they would strike out for a night of dancing.

Now I’ve turned from the nightlife and a nocturnal existence of bar hopping and regular late nights, and have shifted into a twilight organism – the cocoon of family life has metamorphosed me into a crepuscular creature that thrives in the dusk hours (I watch a lot of Animal Planet and Discovery Channel if you can’t tell, but I’ve got it under control; it’s not a problem – I can stop anytime I want). It is not a good life that I’m leading now; it is a great life. Crepuscular looks good on me; which is cool because not everyone can pull off this fashion statement.

As Tom Waits said, “I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy,” but then maybe it is the same thing. Does this relate to anything I’ve said; I’ve no idea – I’m getting old remember? Respect your elders.  <In my mind I am now dropping the mic and walking off the stage – I always wanted to do that>

Hell’s Angels attacked with Puppy

I just heard that on Tuesday a student in Germany attacked some Hell’s Angels by throwing a puppy at them, and then stole a bulldozer to make his escape. Life is a lot weirder than I ever imagined. I didn’t even know Germany had Hell’s Angels – German is such a guttural language; these have to be some of the scariest sounding bikers on the planet. The puppy is fine by the way, but you have to wonder what kind of bruise a puppy would leave on you. Even if somehow it did leave a scar on you it wouldn’t be something you could tell others about.  A scar is like catching a big fish – the thing itself isn’t that important; it’s the story behind it that counts. You wouldn’t see a group of guys sitting around a bar comparing scars where one pulls his hair back and says something like,  “See this scar on my temple? I took a flying puppy straight to the head. Sure it hurt like crazy, but it was kind of fuzzy – and that was nice.” No, you get hit with a puppy and that story stays with you – there is no coolness factor here. When that student was preparing for his attack, going over it in his mind, and developing strategies – how did a puppy even make it to his weapons list?

It has been a long time since I played D&D, but how much battle damage could a puppy even make? Maybe a ¼ hit point for every scratch and tickle?

I bet the Hell’s Angels never even saw it coming.  A guy walking down the street holding a puppy ranks pretty low on the threat list.  Maybe this won’t be true anymore though because if this catches on then pet stores will be the new arms dealers, and the lady that lives down the block with all the cats could be a terrorist.  I can hear the talk now at the next dog show, “sure your basic Labrador is always a good stand by, but you can’t beat the penetrating power of your average flung Shih Tzu.” Deadliest in show would replace Best in Show as the blue ribbon category, and judges would be appraising for aerodynamics and concealability.

At first I couldn’t decide if stealing a bulldozer to make his getaway was a stroke of genius or just more of a skewed puppies as ammo mentality. Riding on odd runaway vehicles sounds questionable at first, but after Sandra Bullock won her Oscar after riding in both an out of control bus and cruise ship I think the question has been put to rest. From now on I think I will just think of this student as the German, Hell’s Angel hating, puppy throwing equivalent to Sandra Bullock. Lay off the puppies German Sandra; it’s not cool.

Doug Keeley’s The Mark of a Leader

The typical subjects for the stories that the Mark of a Leader program deals with are people like Oprah, Lance Armstrong, and brands like Apple, Cirque du Soleil and Starbucks so when they said they wanted to incorporate my story into their repretoire I was extremely honored to say the least. I can’t say enough good things about Doug Keeley and The Mark of a Leader pogram. In tying to explain what they do I would say that they are a group of motivational speakers, but what they do is really so much more than that. They incorporate music, video and professional storytellers to not only inpire their audiences, but to entertain them at the same time. What they do is live, but I have posted a clip showing part of one of their talks where Doug Keeley talks a little about yours truly. Thanks Doug!

Here is their website: http://www.themarkofaleader.com/who.html

and here is a blog that Doug Keeley writes: http://themarkofaleader.typepad.com/

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