Finding Old Slides In A Box. Best Find Of 2014

During the decade before my Dad died he was in the process of handing over boxes, bags, albums and handful of photos to me. I think my Dad was a photo-hoarder. I couldn't place many of the pictures. I had to believe perhaps he found them at thrift stores and over time forgot he hadn't taken them.

Some of the pictures were complete gold. 

My dad didn't talk much about his participation my earliest memories. I had to rely on his vast photo collection to know what my youth was all about. 

Oddly, he NEVER talked about his youth. He never talked about the Korean War. He never told me much about his first wife. Beyond having to walk barefoot in the snow, both ways, to school every day I knew very little about my father prior to my own birth. 

And now he's gone... and I have no one to ask. 

A few weeks ago I was looking for some childhood photos and I ran across these. 

I knew little about slide technology. I could remember sitting through some slide shows as a child. I don't remember their content or when they were taken. I just remember the "Click-click" sound and some bright lights. (No... I wasn't high).

I looked a little closer. 

Oh, that's cool. I don't remember visiting this... so perhaps it's pre-me. Further inspection.

Great googly-moogly. That's my Dad. My Dad during the Korean War. Right when it ended and he was stationed in Japan. It's a Dad information Time Capsule. 

I did my best to look at these one by one via my kitchen light but it was a strain and struggle. I knew I had to find an actual slide projector to make these happen. Is there a slide projector store nearby?

Well, apparently there was. An art-gallery downtown likes to find retro-type items and resell them. Emilee and I journeyed inside to find this.

My first attempt to see if it was working left the hot bulb shattering in my hand. Is there a slide projector bulb store? Emilee and I went to breakfast to scour the internet. She went on the eBay and clicked... it was then a "sit and eat and wait" game. 

Days went by and the bulb arrived. I've decided I'm going to wait until my kids and Emilee are around and I'm going to do a "showing" where I can have my kids listen to "Click-click" and be blinded by the lights. But I did a sneak peak. 

Bulb works... wall is a bit hindering...

But that handsome guy on the left... that's my Dad. 

I will be digitizing these slides this month and I will post the best. (who are we fooling, they will ALL be the best.)

Coming Out Of The Closet Will End Homosexuality

Last week I'd learned that someone out there, all Doctor-ish and such, had discovered what is being penned the "Gay Gene". I won't enter this debate due to my limited knowledge of science, DNA, Genes and what-in-the-hell-do-woman-want education. I will disassociate myself from my homophobic upbringing and my desire to refer to things as "gay" because part of me will always find that word funny. I will look at this through eyes I developed over years from educated opinions, extreme open-mindedness and interaction with dozens of awesomatic homosexual people I've interacted with in my life.

But the biggest reason I've evolved to be far more accepting to other people's lifestyles was how my stomach painfully turned when listening to ignorant-filled hate my friends and family spewed when talking about homosexuality.

The smaller their minds got, the bigger mine became. But I also noticed something very interesting about a few of the people who seemed to hate homosexuality the most, they themselves were pretty gay.

As a child I watched Duke of Hazzard. But I felt horrible for doing so, so horrible that I started a personal campaign for others to know how much I hated the show. I became a closet Duke of Hazzard fan. But even my closest friends had no clue of the truth.

So I have an inkling of the pain a self-loathing homosexual must have. So embarrassed of what you are that you make an effort for everyone six feet from you to know you're not.

To live a lie and inadvertently add to the gay problem.

"Say what Bill?"

Now we go back to the gay gene. If this is so, it's pass from generation to generation. Which can only mean gay people are making more gay people. Now again, I'm not a doctor but I don't see how two penises can do this. (or two vaginas)

So people, listen to me now. If you're so hell-bent to end homosexuality, the best way to do this is to 100% embrace it. Let anyone who wants to be gay... be gay.

If people are no longer afraid to be gay then they won't be forced to marry women, have children, have a wide stance in a public restroom.

If you're free to be gay... you won't breed. You'll adopt babies from other countries and raise them on HGTV.

Before you know it the gay gene will be the way of the Dodo.

Which was the gayest of all birds.

Rentervention Commercial

Hey kids, I wrote a new commercial. Watch it... live it... love it.

Open Letter to The Walking Dead

Like most of us, I watch The Walking Dead. It’s based partially on my love for the horror genre and my desire to absorb anything AMC does into my system. I remember the days prior to the series premiere and the high hopes I had for this new show.

I mean, it’s Zombies. How can they go wrong?

Well, now I know.

Before you read any further, if you’re not caught up on the series… and by caught up I mean haven’t watched every episode that’s fricken aired… then read no further. Unless my writing is so damn titillating that you just can’t resist.

Now with that, here’s everything I deem crappy about The Walking Dead.

I could go season by season and tear apart characters, story lines, logic even when it’s Zombie related but I won’t

Wait... I will. Somewhat.

But not in that order.  I’d like to get to the dead meat of the conversations and talk Zombies. Let’s see if some questions can be answered? First off, can they run or can’t they? Because I’ve seen them sprint in episodes. Rick barely escaped running Zombies in the first season, now you’d have to be a toddler to get captured. At what point did the writers take off the Zombie’s Nikes and decide it was time to stick to the name of the show?

Can you get infected by blood or not? Let’s go back to season one. “Don’t get their blood on you” Rick says as he’s covered with safety gear to trick the scent-capturing Zombies.

[Note – Rick also said he’d one day tell his wife and family the name of the Zombie they chopped up to honor him… still waiting Rick]

In that same scene, several characters managed to get blood on them. Since then, a character can’t kill a Zombie without getting blood in their mouth and they aren’t even stricken with some mild diarrhea. 

Scratch. Apparently this WAS an issue, but no longer. Last season characters were pushing up the fence against a heard of dead, no one at this point was worried about the location of the antibacterial soap. I’ve seen characters pretty much cuddle with Zombies just to get a knife in their skull. Yet no one has been infected by a good fingernail to the armpit.

Slow Zombies can’t getcha with a scratch or a good bloody-flesh wound. Okay… logic changed again.

Also I quickly need to bring up the strength issues. Zombies aren’t strong enough over power 12 year old girls but can manage to open your stomach in a single tear. Let’s pick a standard.

Now we have issues like driving a new 2013 car after a 2010 apocalypse, everywhere you go lawns are mowed, every house they enter was just dusted, Daryl won’t give up that slow-ass reloading crossbow. But that’s not the main issue.

Here’s my MAIN issue.

When are the Zombies, the same Zombies the show is named after, going to be the actual villains?

I’ve sat through some crappy story-lines waiting for the pay off. I’ve watched 3 episodes of sappy drama to one mildly story-changing action.  I’ve watched them introduce characters just to kill them off episodes later.  And now I’ve seen the latest of villains introduced in the last Season Finale. Another mild-looking Caucasian male.

Forget the graphic novel I haven’t read, or the playbook you took from LOST. Let’s focus on the name again. The Walking Dead. Shouldn’t these guys be the true villains? Shouldn’t they be the ones people fall asleep fearing? The show has made them at the same nuisance level as the homeless people at the Santa Monica Pier. 

The name dammit… the name! Imagine if Alfred Hitchcock gave us a movie called The Bird based on a group of people who couldn’t get a long and started killing each other, while a bunch of inconvenient birds kept pooping everywhere. 

I am begging you to stop focusing on the novel. Obviously it has no biblical standards due to the characters you’ve killed off that were still prominent in the comics.

Make it scary again. Make me freak when a Zombie appears. I want to think that each time someone enters a house full of dead people, we’re going to lose someone good, or Carl.  

Make me love The Walking Dead again. Purdy please.

The Rainbow Vacuum Sales Pitch

A month ago Brittany entered a raffle while visiting a children's fair. Two weeks later she receives a call saying she won a $150 air purifier which would be delivered to her home. She was giddy, and had every right to be. Free is fun and winning is gold. Gimme gimme.

During the call she was informed she'd need to block out 90 minutes to be shown how to use it. This made sense I guess, assuming it was assembled by NASA, or they just assumed Brittany was the dumbest person on the planet. She gave them a date close to a week out and marked it on her calendar. 

As the day came closer, and she discussed this with friends, a few flags started going off. She started wondering if they were going to try to sell her accessories, upgrades, solutions or tickets to Mars. What in the Hell took 90 minutes about this? She actually began to create a little anxiety over the appointment. After we ran through one of many scenarios in our heads, we decided I should be there as well. For door-to-door persistent salesperson support. 

An hour before they arrived she created a plan of attack. She was going to tell them she only had an hour for the demonstration. It would limit their pitch, but give them plenty of time to show her how to use it. The door bell rang, she opened the door to see two heavy-set people holding several boxes. They didn't look like service people at all.

They looked like salespeople. 

They came in, introduced themselves and ask her to start moving all her furniture around to open a giant space in her living room. The man walked in her dining room and started dragging chairs out, without asking. They insisted she move her heavy glass coffee table. How big was this air purifier?

Brittany said "I only have about 60 minutes." 

The woman looked panicked. 

"We'll have to reschedule then." she said.

Brittany was thrown off a little. She countered.

"Well, maybe an hour and 15 if you talk fast"

The woman hesitated, then said "okay, let's go!" 

She took control of Brittany's DVD player and attempted to rip out her prized Sex and the City DVD. Season 3. Right where Mr. Big comes back. Who taught this woman how to hold a DVD. 

She throws in a DVD, hit play then placed her large body right in front of the TV. I didn't see much on it due to her body placement but I think I saw bed bugs and Oprah.

I didn't hear much because she talked through it. She quickly was assembling what I now could see was a Vacuum. 

Okay, I get it now. Vacuum salespeople. How were we this dumb?

Brittany now recognizes what's going on and says "I need to be upfront, I'm not buying anything."

The woman explains that it's okay but wants to show the trainee how to sell a vacuum. 

Brittany reiterates and then waits for the moot pitch. 

The woman was mentally reading from the book of Rainbow Vacuums. She gave you word by word pitch and took small breathers to ask inane questions. 

"Would you say dirt on the floor is good or bad?"



Wait... we're still pausing. 

Oh, these questions require Brittany to respond.

"Umm, bad?"

"Yes! Bad"

Demonstration continues. We watch her get dust out of remotes, carpeted areas, her hand. It's amazing. This vacuum sure does suck!

She asks Brittany about her vacuum. I already know how proud Brittany is of her Shark. Oddly she's expressed it to me several times. After slightly mocking her vacuum, she asks Brittany to vacuum a piece of carpet 52 times. 


Brittany counts, then pretends counts, then admits she's no longer counting and gives up. The woman takes the Rainbow and vacuums the same spot. She reveals sand left behind. We're slightly impressed. 

"What you say having this sand in your carpeting is good or bad?"




The woman occasionally is asking my opinion on the demonstration until she releases that I'm too busy texting Brittany at that moment making fun of the entire situation. The woman gives up on me. At this point I'm listening but looking at emails on my phone. 

And by emails I mean I'm playing Clash of the Clans.

Suddenly I hear something that completely gets my attention.

"A child crawling on a floor is in comparison to smoking 4 cigarettes a day."

I cough "What?"

She looks at me in defense. "No, this is true. Ask the CDC."

Brittany responds in jest. "I mean, maybe 2 cigarettes."

The woman sees no humor in this. I express I think that's a little overboard. I laugh at the ridiculousness and bury my face back in my phone. 

An hour in, 15 ridiculous "yes or no" questions later, she pitch ends. She asks Brittany which free gift she'd like. Brittany says the extra brush would be nice. The woman starts filling out paperwork. 

"Great, how would you like to pay for this?"

Brittany now is a little angry. She already expressed she won't be purchasing a $3500 dollar vacuum today. Someone is going to go to timeout for not listening. Brittany explains again that she's a single mom on a limited income. She loves the vacuum but just can't afford it at the time.

The woman now starts asking questions such as "how much was your vacuum?", "how much do you spend on carpeting cleaning each year?", "air fresheners?" and so on. She gets out a calculator and plays with some math.

"Here's how much money you spend every year. You're losing money not getting this vacuum." Then asks Brittany to sign the paper the same way a police office tells you to sign a ticket. With a giant look of disappointment.

Then perhaps my favorite moment happens. Which out explanation the woman grabs her cellphone and starts dialing. How odd of her to make a phone call right here and now. She waits for a second and begins to speak.

"Hello Mr Johnson. I'm here with Brittany now. I showed her the vacuum, 
I showed her how it works and how much dirt was in her floor. I told her 
about the gift item would received. No Mr. Johnson, she will not be purchasing
the vacuum. No, no, I tried. She will have to lose out on the bonus item."

I was a little in awe of this stage-performance fake phone call. I've seen better acting in school plays. As this was going on I received a text. It was was Brittany. It read:

"I bet she's not even on the phone"

I did my best to swallow my laughter.

After minutes of finally convincing both sales people that she would not be purchasing the vacuum, including her begging for names, friends, family, enemies she could hit up - the finally brought out the air purifier. The demonstration was given by the man who told Brittany she could just fill it with water and turn it on. Then he almost broke it showing her how to clean it.


The people walked out her door and stood in her driveway for several minutes. Was it some sort of post-game strategy session?  Scolding each other for not asking enough yes or no questions? Convincing each other not to swallow a bottle of pills tonight?

It took Brittany almost running over their semi-warm bodies to get them to leave.

It possibly was one of the most painful presentations I've ever seen. I went home, and hugged my used, duct-taped vacuum. I love you used vacuum. A vacuum Brittany gave me.

I'm Helping Give Away A Jeep

I was asked to assist with the giving away of a Jeep from Blue Cross. So I helped with a little video


The Date I Never Knew Was A Date

I won't try to pretend I'm an excellent networker. In fact, I'm pretty piss poor at the whole thing. I hate being used for my connections, it feels slimy. So when I go out of my way to reach out to others for that... I feel even slimier.

But occasionally I try to meet new people with common career interests and see if we can mush our connections up into one giant awesome gooey ball.

A few years ago I had been introduced to a female comic who, as me, was attempting to advance their comedic career. She was close to my age, pretty, single, and best off funny. A funny 6 is automatically an 8. I'm not saying she was a 6, I'm just giving math comparisons. Over the next year or so we remained Facebook friends. Occasionally we'd comment on each other's status updates. I was FB invited to events (which I never attended) and I reached out one time asking her to audition for my short film.

Which she graciously declined.

After a while I sent her an email proclaiming that with our interests, our collection of common friends, and due to us residing in the LA area, we should meet up for a coffee and talk shop. In most part I was looking for funny people to add to my comedy group. She was pretty perfect for that.

She quickly responded with a "Yes" and added that it should be switched to wine. Claiming people don't talk over coffee. Who is going to turn down wine? I'm in. She gave a location, a time, and I was in.

At the time I was "mostly" single. I had just started dating a very nice girl whose place in my life was still TBD. But I definitely wasn't looking to date anyone else. So the fact that I was attracted to my soon-to-be network buddy didn't skew my agenda, other than I was sure not to wear a hat. Inappropriate t-shirt.

I arrived 20 minutes early to discover that our meeting location was an Italian restaurant. And not a cheap one. The bar was small, so I put my name on the list and waited for a table. I sat down... waited.

A few minutes after our designated time she arrived. She looked beautiful, but that could just be an everyday fluke. I mean, I looked amazing... and it was just a Thursdays. We waited a few minutes for a table... sat down and the meeting began.

We talked about each other, our connections, our dreams. I expressed my goals and ideas and how she could be a part of them. She seemed excited. What a great start to the meeting.

During this time we shared a bottle of wine. Not a cheap one at that. Once it was finished, she asked for another... and menus.

Oh... She's hungry?

After a bit she asked what I was eating. I didn't want to be rude. I ordered food and kept talking about "hobby-work".

The conversation then detoured into personal life. My past marriages, my kids, exes, heartache, desires.

I learned she had never been married, no children and most-likely never in love. But looking.

She stopped me mid-conversation to tell me how handsome she found me.


I stumbled a bit but continued my best to talk shop. I even went as far as reading her part of one of my scripts from my phone. No laughter.

I'm losing her.

I'm now figuring out that as she ate her $35 chicken parmesan that my career is not as interesting as I had hoped. My goals are boring and I'm running out of pitches for the next best thing.

She asks "what's next?"

I told her I didn't know. Things just work out.

The check came. We both looked.

And by looked I mean I looked at the check while she looked at the wall. I know that look. That look means "I'm not paying this check"

I paid the $150 plus bill and we walk out together. I learned this location was near her house and she had walked there. I asked if she would like me to walk her back to her house. She declined. I walked to my car feeling a little confused about my $150 meetup and how exactly I was going to use what happened to advance my career. I mean, other than writing about it 3 years later. 

The next day I remembered that I had discussed a few comedy sketches which I wanted her to read. I emailed her and she said she'd be happy to look them over. I wasn't near my laptop so I had to wait a bit to send them. Before I could I get an email I didn't expect.

I got an "I like you... but" email. I received an email claiming I was a nice guy but now what she was looking for in a guy. I was too 'business".

I was too business? Umm, that WAS business.

Wait... unless.


I realized at that point, the whole night I was on a date and I was all biznezz in her face. I never put on my date face. I didn't use my clever lines, my winning smile, I wasn't even wearing my date pants.

I was officially a shitty date. I was so shitty she didn't even want to try again.

I licked my wounds, I told her thanks for her time, I felt like an ass.

I wasn't sure if telling her I didn't know it was a date made me look more pathetic than just being the guy who only talked about work.

Anyhow, we continued to stay in touch. Occasional emails. Occasional FB comments. Eventually even Instragram friends.

I'll always be the guy who she went on a crappy date with.

And she'll always be the girl which I didn't know I was on the date.

The Future of Facebook Movies

My good limie friend Ben and I made a video showing what the Facebook Movies will look like in the future. You're welcome

My Father - Robert Lee Doty

Band-Aids on his hands.

Loosely wrapped around various fingers. Covering the back of his hands. That might be the most vivid memory of my father.

Band-Aids were always on his hands.

He was a mechanic. I never took much interest in what he did. Not because I didn’t respect him or the trade. It was just something I never wished to learn. He was always tired. Always dirty. His hands and face always covered with grease. Oil embedded in his nails. Band-Aids always on his hands.

I noted this the last time we were together, or the last time he was lucid. He had been retired over a decade yet his hand, his retired hands, were still cut and bandaged.

He still tinkered, just now for free. Possibly for the enjoyment. I don’t know.

He possibly was the hardest working man I’ve ever known. A trait inherited from him into my younger twin brothers. Both excelling in their blue-collar jobs, maintaining their collection of muscle cars and keeping up with the ever-mounting list of honey-dos required with each of their several acre homes. Their hands mirroring my father’s.

What he lacked in connections with us as children, me made up for as we became adults. He never judged us, betrayed us, lied to us, failed us. His life was ours anyway he could. I knew if I ever needed his help, he’d be there any way he could. No guilt, just help and his giant heart.

His puns were horrible. His jokes told in mass repetition. He loved bad movies. Bacon was in every meal. Thrift stores were gold mines. He was addicted to 10 year old technology as if it was just presented at CES. Each year he seems a little more elderly but with the strength of 10 men. The day he died I’m sure he still could have taken me in a fight.

His laugh was magic. The day we poured his ashes in his favorite lake we emulated it through stories of him which brought us to tears. Tears of laughter which we knew he’d want.

His ashes reside in the lake we grew up visiting. Many of our stories come from that exact spot. It’s his quiet memorial only known to us.

He has no gravestone. No plaque. No jar with his name.

His legacy is only with us, his children who all loved him dearly.

His grandchildren who can pull various stories out of vague memories.

The few great grandchildren who might have the one or two snap shots of him in their heads.

His name was Robert Lee Doty.

He was my father.

Though he passed away several years ago, I love and respect him more every day. I’m half the man he was but I still try to be like him. Not because he wanted me to, because he was my role model.

He didn’t want me to be anything other than me. Because he loved me as well.

And A New Sketch Group Was Born

For the last two years I've been working on various projects. During this time I've written a good 15 sketches in my head I've done nothing with. This is due to my lack of commitment, not talent. I'm actually surround by amazing actors, writers, editors, directors... etc.

So last night I cornered them all into a bar and birthed a new video sketch group.

So it begins

My 5 Biggest Disappointments of 2013

I can safely say that 2013 has been one of the greatest (if not the greatest) years of my life. Career, goals, family, relationships, life. In 2013 I've slowly become a real person again. I am very excited to see where 2014 takes me. But with all the goodness, there were still chunks of 2013 that left me unfulfilled, disappointed, just fucking angry.

What are the things that completely let me down in 2013? It's very possible they let you down at well. Here are my 5 biggest disappointments of 2013

5. Vine

Being a filmmaker I was very excited at another medium for posting useless digital media. Easy to live-edit, control, post, share. What a great tool in the social media world. But it was like that half-finished kitchen project your Dad started and moved on. Almost as if they lost interest half way through completion.  Part one of their failure was a dribbling release. I can't believe how many people I had to personally introduce to it. Show them how to use it and help with post their first Vine. Then watching them quickly discover they had no other Vine friends to share it with. That is the second part of their failure, the lack of Facebook engagement. The inability to incorporate it will all your Facebook friends. They made it Twitter exclusive. Who actually follows their friends on Twitter? I can count on 2 hands how many friends I have that fully utilize Twitter, but even my tech-tarded Mother has a Facebook account. They put Baby in the corner and never let it out. That, combined with some technical issues, turned me from a daily Viner to recently deleting the app from my phone. You have let me down Vine, you failed me.

4. Google

I used to be the biggest advocate for Google. Between Gmail and Maps, and especially the search engine. Googletastic! But when you have a Zillion Dollars, why not try to make it 2 Zillion. How do you do this? By forcing all your users to use your unsuccessful, crappy products. No, I'm not talking about the ever-failing Android OS. That would have been a 2012 rant. Now I'm talking about something I should have been talking about in a 2005 rant... YouTube. But it's not so much using YouTube, it's that I pretty much can no longer use it. No more comments, due to having to have a Google+ account, and no longer able to quickly watch videos at work due to 30 second long ads on a 15 second video. Google, you're about to kill YouTube. Mark my words Google... killing it.

3. No New Curb

Yes, I'm allowed to complain about this. Unless I've missed it, Larry David never said the last season would actually be the last. Yet every time we think it is... another season pops up. 2013 gave us no new Curb your Enthusiasm. And for this, I'm annoyed.

2. Apple Navigation

This is actually going to be its own post about my Navigation failures of 2013 due to Apple. I recently drove all around New York by the hand of Steve Jobs and ended up in places forsaken by man over 100,000 years ago. There is far too much ranting to include in this list. So I'm already calling my next blogpost "Apple Nav I Hope You Die In A Fiery Hell".

1. Arrested Development

This is still almost too painful to talk about. But I'll do it. I am not sure if I want to add up the hours I've spent watching reruns of Arrested Development. Quoting, laughing, sharing, loving. It's easily one of my favorite shows. Flawless, perfectly cast, hilarious.

Name two better shows than the West Wing or Arrested Development on Television in the 00's.

So when I heard they were making a 4th season for Netflix, I was giddy as a school girl. I followed internet updates, watch previews, scoured for pics. I looked at the calendar as if I was waiting for Christmas. I remember the morning they were released. I had one thing scheduled for that day... watching every episode until I was done, then possibly watch them again.

First episode, a little weak. Didn't have the same feel but they were rusty, getting back in the swing. I watched the next. I had to think if I had laughed or not. I couldn't remember. Finally by the 4 episode I noticed my warm and fuzzies had turned to angry and confusion. What were they passing off as AD to the public. This wasn't our show... this was shit.

I turned to social media immediately and saw others with the same confusion. No one loving it, everyone questioning it. I did it, it took a few days, but I did it. I watched them all.

And after the last scene of the final episode I left out a boisterous "What the fuck?" I wondered if I was missing an episode, a scene. Did I not watch it in order? Is this how it ends? Where am I? What planet is this? Where are my pants?

I just got finger fucked by the Bluth family.

So all I can do now is block it out. Keep telling myself there are only 3 seasons of AD. Only 3. The 4th was a dream, like when JR was shot. It never happened. Ever.

So that's my list, no political rants, nothing about Justin Bieber, Miley Cyrus or Duck Dynasty. Just the things that touched me the wrong way in 2013. They touched me where my bathing suit covers.

The bad touch.

Lionel Richie's Sail On Lyrics - What did I just hear?

I'm guilty of listening to a song for months, years... even decades before I actually take the time to listen to the lyrics to see what the song is really about. It wasn't until I got into Ben Folds that I learned half the song is in the lyrics. But it never stopped me from belting out the lyrics I knew of all my favorite songs on road trips. Back in 2008, while moving back to LA from Atlanta, I found a CD in my car that I had zero idea where it came from. Actors, cameramen, editors, etc all used my car from time to time so I figured it was taken from the studio one day and I was given a mix tape in return. Either way, Lionel Richie's "Sail On" was on it. I remember the song from my youth. A lovely song about boating!

Oh how I wish I was on the sea. 

I sang it for a few hundred miles as the mix tape songs all took their turn. But something caught my ear. 

"But I'm givin' you back your name, yeah, yeah "

Say what? The boat? What am I missing. So I listened... really, really listened. Here's what I found out. 

So the song starts off a little cryptic... but then again, most songs do. 

Sail on down the line, 'bout a 
Half a mile or so, and I 
Don't really wanna know, a 
Where you're going 

So now we know he's singing about someone. Probably a girl... right?

Maybe once or twice, you see 
But time after time, I tried 
To hold onto what we got, but 
Now you're going 

I have to believe now it's truly about a girl. So cool, another Lionel Richie love song. 

And I don't mind 
'Bout the things you're gonna say Lord 
I gave all my money and my time 

Wait... was that a little bitter?

I know it's a shame 
But I'm givin' you back your name, yeah, yeah 

Okay, there's that line. Is Mom and Dad getting a divorce?

Yes, I'll be on my way 
I won't be back to stay 
I guess I'll move along 
I'm looking for a good time 

So wait, now she's not leaving? He's leaving? And he's looking to get laid, like right away? No separation waiting period? 

Sail on down the line, ain't it 
Funny how the time can go, all my 
Friends say the told me so, but it 
Doesn't matter 

Oh great, even his friends knew she was shit.

It was plain to see, that a 
Small town boy like me, just a 
Wasn't your cup of tea, I was 
Wishful thinkin' 

What the heart wants in turn makes the eyes blind. 

I gave you my heart 
And I tried to make you happy 
But you gave me nothin' in return 
You know it ain't so hard to say 
Would you please just go away, yeah, yeah 

Oh snap Lionel, that's just cold. 

I've thrown away the blues 
I'm tired of bein' used 
I wanna everyone to know 
I'm looking for a good time 
Good time 

So now he wants everyone he knows... to know.... that he's single and ready to mingle? Who wants to hump Mr. Richie? Line forms here!

Woah, sail on, honey 
Good times never felt so good 
Sail on, honey 
Good times never felt so good 
Sail on, sugar 
Good times never felt so good 

So unbeknownst to me for all these years, it's about a guy trying to beat a girl to the punch in a break up, bitter, and out to get laid.

Sail on Mr. Richie.... sail on. 

Where Bad Haircuts Are Born

A few months back Jimmy Johns was holding a "customer appreciation" day across town. I gave in and headed to my closest location to grab a dollar sandwich. While waiting in line, I saw this. 

Upon closer inspection, I almost considered this to be a well played joke. Look at some of these cuts.

Were the sunglasses truly needed here?

I started to look at each one individually. I wasn't really sure what I was looking at. I nothing something about each hair cut, each model.

Let's look at a few of these one by one

We start with number 1. Apparently people don't always know how to explain to the barber "Can you please make me look like my ultra conservative grandfather?" So they had to give it a number. Not any number... it's number 1.

Number 2 is pretty much an ungrayed version of number 1. So maybe, just make me look like my homophobia, Mexican hating father.

Number 3 I was starting to notice a pattern. Not so much in the haircuts, but the expressions of the professional hair models. Are they not hair models so much as people being shamed? Have we witnessed a new realm in public humiliation? Are we witnessing hair cut shame?

No better way to highlight a receding hairline by giving you half a flat top. Again, this poor man looks shamed.

More shaming. This man looks close to tears.

Looking at this man, I'm beginning to think they stole these images off the registered sex offender's website. This man, is windowless, white van shamed.

Now number 10 I found educational. Who knew you could have your mullet professionally groomed with clippers. Mullet shamed.

Number 17 was smart enough to wear sunglasses. Still shamed, but hiding his tears... his now empty soul.

I know this face, it's after a gym shower shamming. This guy is writing a list and wondering where his parents keep their gun.

Number 24... what can we stay about him? This shaming is FABULOUS!

Number 25 is actually not a shaming. This boy seems satisfied with new haircut. He can't wait to see how it looks as he's kicking the shit out of the brown kids across down. His Pa will be proud.

29 and 30. This is why you don't talk back to your parents. This is shaming that will scar you for life. 30, cheer up buddy. Hair grows back... and your parents eventually die.

We end with 32. Probably the saddest of all the shaming. Not often can a photograph capture the emotion of the subject. But if there ever was a picture that captured rock bottom... I just found it.

So I end wondering, how old is this? Who actually has EVER walked in a said "give me a 23". Where is this photographer today? How many of these models are responsible for public shootings? 

If you know anything about this chart, or even better one of the models... please reach out and you'll be my hero for life. 

Link to the chart I found online

Google+ is starting to become the new AOL of the interwebz

Google does one thing great.


When it comes to that, it nails it. Even with its geeky algorithms and page ranking punishments that sometimes completely wipes a listing from the web with no explanation or communication, it's still a great search engine.

Even with its ads slowly blending into search results...

... or their inability to truly know porn from non-porn.

Wait.. I'm getting off track here. Anyhow, I use Google and I can kinda assume I always will. Even when they play little tricks like this-

I have two Google mail accounts. My first being my name Obviously I was the first Bill Doty to get a gmail account and I quickly snagged the name. In fact, I was one of the first people I know to have a gmail account. I was pretty fucking big back then.

My other is off my domain,, which I run via the Google Exchange server. I forward my original emails there, slowly weening myself from my original gmail email. Both are accessed through Gmail, just two different logins.

When Google+ came along I quickly snagged one of those up too. Sure I fell for the Google Twitter clone and all the other knockoffs... but what if this time Google actually pulled it off. Actually competed with Facebook. So with high hopes, I did it, and I log into it now about every 6 months just to see changes, disgust... and done. It's also off my account which there is never a reason to log into.

My email has no Google+ account. I don't need two unused social media accounts. That's just silly.

Now, when writing this I reminisce about the YouTube/Gmail account mess with made me actually close one of my YouTube accounts because I had no Gmail account to link it to. I was annoyed, didn't get it but figured Google was just being a dick about things. I've been married before and I understand what it's like to be told things that make no sense.

Now of course Google has decided you're not allowed to comment on YouTube videos until you're a Google+'er.... so my YouTube commenting days are over unless I feel the need to switch Google accounts back and forth.

Fine, enough is being said across the web, nothing more I can add.

But now there's THIS shit.

This morning Google said I had two notifications on my account.

Well, that seems weird. Sure, let's click and see. 

Sign into my Google+ account? Surely they are mistaken. There is no Google+ account associated with this email. Let's try to sign in.

Well, I'm logged in already... let's log in again

Google, you're a dirty little whore. You're now using sneaky techniques to get people to get a Google+ account. You're tricking people to THINK they have notifications... making them create an account, only to find out you're using the old AOL playbook of internet shit-biz-nezz.

So now, every day I'm going to see those nasty notifications.... knowing there's truly nothing there. And you're going to make me wonder day after day....

... is Bing really that bad?

UPDATE TIME!@!@!$!!!

So during the Redditing of this article yesterday I noticed a TON of direct traffic from Mountain View, CA. The home of Google. Today I noticed something different when visiting Google.

The notifications are now gone, in fact there isn't even a spot for them to NOT be there. The bell has disappeared. Also the link to my non-existent Google+ page is gone. 

So I just assumed this was a change across the web, but when I log into my work's Google account (Which doesn't have a Google+ page associated with it), all the things I was complaining about were still there. 

So am I to assume someone from Google personally fixed my account? Who knows. Everyone once in a while, someone listens. 

The Hottest Elves on the Big Screen

The Halloween costumes have been packed up, the leaves are falling and every store has switched into Christmas mood. Before you know it, you'll be humming along to Christmas music, maxing out your credit card and dealing with hellacious traffic.

With Christmas last than 2 months away, it's time to start thinking about the season--you know the one of giving and all that jazz. While our loved ones and Mr. Clause seem to get all the attention, we seem to forget a key ingredient. I'm not talking about Mr. J.C., I'm talking about the elves. Elves are sadly overlooked, but those special creatures are the ones working all year to make sure that you and your loved ones are able to get drunk on egg nog and spill all the family secrets before the turn of the new year.

So as a token of thanks to these thankless wonders, let's highlight some of the hottest elves of our time--christmas and otherwise.

Ernest J. Keebler to be exact. That champ and his minions have been producing cookies inside of a tree for the betterment of the world since 1853, which let's be honest is like no time at all in elf time. But whatever, no list paying homage to elves is complete without the king elf himself, Mr. Ernest J. Keebler. Those Chips Deluxe get me every time.

Jovie of Elf--
While many may thing Will Ferrel is the true star of elf, it's actually Zooey Deschanel as the blond, emotionless, bitter elf that wins Buddy's heart. Sticking with her monotone schtick, Zooey shows us that elves have hearts too, they just need a little defrosting and shower singing.

Cinema's newest elf, Evangeline Lilly, is taking on the role of Tauriel in the two forthcoming Hobbit movies. She may not have that Christmas flair and is best remembered as that annoying girl on Lost, but she certainly looks hot with her red hair and bow and arrow. Holler at her this December when The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug comes out.

Head Elf in A Christmast Story--
I'm just kidding that woman was frightening. She's what my Christmas nightmares are made of.

This girl--
This elf, she's been working hard for you all year. Actually, ok I tried to find you some solid, hilarious Christmas porn parody, which Adam and Eve had This isn't Christmas Vacation, but it doesn't have an elf. The road to online elf porn is a dark one that I recommend you travel along, so I leave you with the girl instead. Enjoy.

Arwen of LOTR--
Hobbits, Orcs, Wizards, and Elves, oh my. These marathon movies were chuck full of palish elves looking all ethereal and shit, but the one that really stood out was Liv Tyler, the half elf who eventually united the elves with man. While I'll forever remember her for her appearance in Aerosmith's Crazy video and as Corey in Empire Records, she did a pretty sexy and bang up job in LOTR. I'd give her my precious, nahmean?

What elf did I miss? Have a favorite? Is it of the claymation variety? I bet it is.

NBC Nightly News Posted The Funniest Tweet Ever About

The other night my Twitter and FB messages were a flutter, during that time I received a message from my cousin letting me know NBC Nightly News used one of my tweets saying goodbye to Blockbuster. Though it was great to see, she TOTALLY killed my inflection. She needed more glee.


How My New Coffee Table Represents Everything Bad I See In Marriage

Almost a year ago I moved into my new house. Beyond a few boxes and beds, I had very little furniture. That day I raced out to buy a couch, it was rushed purchase for me since I usually need days if not weeks to find a piece of furniture to sparks my interest. But the hardwood floors were a big deciding factor when it came to figuring out where I'd sit.

Since then I've slowly been filling my home. Kitchen table, shelving, new giant chair. Every month I get a little closer to being a real person. I'm not married, nor do I live with a significant other so not only was there no rush, there was no one helping or directing me in these decisions. I get to wait until I see that ONE thing... then get it.

So far the most difficult part has been finding the thing that brings it all together, the coffee table. I have looked everywhere for my knight in shining lacquered wood. The center to my man room. That perfect coffee table.

Last week I found a table on Craigslist that really stood out. But it was not only NOT a coffee table, it not even a regular table. It was a game table. Where in the world would I put this awesome piece? (note to readers: I don't have a game room).

But wait... if I cut the legs off this sucker I may have found the thing I've been looking for! It's perfect.

I checked with my daughter who gave a "I guess" and I called the sellers.

"We still have it"

"I'm on my way!" (please note between first contact and me going to get it was actually 3 days)

With cash in hand I drove across town giddy as a school girl. Reached their house, knocked on the door.

And here's where it begins. 

The door opened immediately after I knocked. And by open I mean less than a two inch gap where a women's face slightly appeared.

"He'll meet you at the garage."

Door closed.

I walked to the garage, waited a minute, the door opened. There I see it. The game table which actually seemed MORE perfect in person (how could this be? It's like bacon on bacon!)

A man appears. He looks slightly defeated. He shakes my hand and asks if I wanted to see it. Of course we all know how dumb that question is but strangers don't always know what to say to each other.

He immediately told me the story of how he found it. How it was at an estate sale and for him, just like me, it was love at first sight.

How each house move he quickly found a new place to display it. Each time told as if he was telling stories of his child's first step. I could see the sparkle in his eyes.

I didn't want to talk him out of selling it to me, but with that much love I had to ask "why are you selling it?"

He looked towards the door leading into his house and said "she's making me."

He said for the last few months it's been in the garage (step one to losing your things) but now she feels it's officially time to go. The smile was off his face. He tone stale.

Like a fool I told him my plans. You would have thought I was pulling the legs off his first born.

He physically stepped back. "You're cutting off the legs?"

Years of improv kicked in

"No, actually not now that I see it in person. It's actually just the size I need."

He steps back in. I look it over a bit more and say. "Would you take $60 for it?"

I just devalued his child by $20. Would he do it.

Turns out I was asking the question to the wrong person. He put down his head and said he'd check. He had to ask the person who didn't own it, didn't want it and didn't deserve the cash earned from it.

He came back a few minutes later after a fairly loud discussion was overheard by me through their garage firewall.

"She said okay."

I handed him the cash and we carried it to my car. I was happy... but there was something going through my mind.

This coffee table represents every horrible about marriage.  Here you have a man who finds something he loves. Maybe the one piece of furniture in his whole home he actually cared about. I can tell you he didn't pick out his dishes, bedding, towels, or maybe even a single item in his house. He would never tell his wife he didn't like the punch bowl and force her to sell it. Yet he is giving up something close to him, for her. And his instructions for doing so? "Take this item which I hate, and don't want you to have, and selling it for as much money as you can, or else."

You can't have this, so get rid of it and bring me a reward.

I actually got a little angry. More than I should have.

Until I got home cut off the legs, and placed it nicely in my living room.

I love it, I'm keeping it.... forever.

The 88 Nissan Sentra Stolen Tire Domino Effect

In December of 1988 I purchased my first brand new car. Of course I'm guessing the month for story stature but the year I remember specifically because of the car itself. A charcoal grey, two-door, 1988 Nissan Sentra. I almost felt like a real person that day. An adult with an adult(ish) car. Nothing was going to stop me as long as it was in the distance of my 350 miles off one tank of gas.

I couldn't afford many improvements. I dreamed of new rims, tinted windows, CD player and even a classy spoiler (can you use those two words together?). So financially I decided to keep it stock and make my $119 a month payment best I could. But a new car is a new car. I still walked a little taller.

A few months into ownership I was living with a high school friend. We had a crappy little apartment in Fresno. We both worked crappy little jobs and took crappy little classes. We stayed up late and watched COPS every second we could. We tried to talk to girls and occasionally even brought one back. Without restraints or anesthesia. We drank cheap beer and ate enough garlic bread to kill Mussolini again. It was the average 19 year old's life.

One morning my roommate walked outside to head to his crappy job when he came back in laughing. The annoying laughing were you ask "what?" yet they refuse to answer. They just stare at you and laugh more. He signaled me to go outside where he pointed to my charcoal grey, two-door, 1988 Nissan Sentra as I quickly noticed my car on a block.

Some dick just stole my front tire!

He continued to laugh until he drove away. This almost made him as much of a dick as the tire thief. Almost.

I'm not sure what my day consisted of at this point but I remember I wasn't in a rush. I went inside, said a few dirty words then casually went back out to put on my emergency spare.

Do not exceed 50 mph. Do not drive over obstacles. Do not attempt to meet women with a crappy spare on your car. 

This wasn't going to work.

My first thought... days later... was to call the Nissan Dealer who I learned was more than happy to sell me a new tire and rim for well over $200. Almost the same price I was looking at for the spoiler and tinted windows I wanted. Are you serious? The horror!!!

After much more thought... days later... I thought of something that obviously someone before me thought of as well. Why not just go steal another tire? Fresno almost seemed a breeding ground for Nissan Sentras. I wouldn't have a problem finding one. And if you think about it, there was a VERY small chance, but a chance, I was going to steal mine back?

So one night... days later... I went out with a jack and a block of wood, and I stole a white, four-door, 1988 Nissan Sentra's front tires. With success.

Did I feel guilty? I honestly can't remember. I did feel a little as if I received justice though. I beat the crappy city I lived it. You can't fight me, I fight back. I now have 4 almost good tires on my car.

I shared the story with my asshole roommate. Who laughed, a different laugh, but still annoying. Then went back into my barely functioning life.

I think COPS was on.

A week went by and I saw a black Nissan Sentra parked at my work. Normally I wouldn't take notice of such a thing but this one had a key feature. An emergency spare on the front wheel.

Well now, I didn't steal it. My victim was white. No guilt.

But wait...

What if the owner of the white, four-door, 1988 Nissan Sentra stole the tire off the black, four-door, 1988 Nissan Sentra. Due to me stealing his tire for my charcoal grey, two-door, 1988 Nissan Sentra?

What if I sparked a chain of events where there was no end? What if I created a domino effect of Nissan Sentra tire thievery? What have I done?

From that day it haunted me weekly. Only a few days would go by at a time before I'd seen another Nissan Sentra driving on its emergency spare. But the scary thing was, I would never see one without. It's as if owners couldn't keep up with the Nissan Black Market.

I did this, I started this. I'm a horrible person. Holy crap I better get some tire lug locks.

With in a few months of that, I moved to Sun Valley, Idaho for the summer. I had a job landscaping and I had a free place to stay. It was an entire day there before I saw a Nissan Sentra with only three good wheels. Did I create a global epidemic? Is the entire Sentra world on emergency spares due to my greed and/or car poverty? I'm a horrible person.

So I'd love to tell you the part of the story where the chain of events ended. Where I stopped seeing handicapped Sentras. But I don't. Today I STILL see 80s and 90s Sentras limping along on three tires. If not weekly, then monthly. And each time... I'm haunted. I'm cursed to drive the same highways with them forever and ever. In horror and shame.

So remember, next time you're driving down the road... and you see a Sentra. Look to see how many good tires it has. And if only three... keep driving, don't stop. Because if you do...

... they will steal your tire.

There is a special place in Hell for people who post spoilers on Facebook

Last night, as many... well all of you know... was the series finale of Breaking Bad. The first thing you should know is that I won't be posting any spoilers here. Why? Because I love humanity and their desire for self-discovery.

I, like most people, love to find things out through the roller coaster of emotions it takes to discover them. A great example is nervously watching 5 (really 6) seasons of Breaking Bad to see it all come together at the end. Sit silently for a few months, gather in what you see. They scream "KICK ASS".

When do you NOT get to do that? When some jack-hole posts the ending 6 seconds after he saw it 5 hours because you get to. Who does this? Well, I had 4 friends do this exact thing last night. over 30 people combined commented in anguish. 6 years ruined by an idiot with a keyboard.

Who doesn't understand Facebook spoiler etiquette? I see it all the time. TV shows, movies, sports scores, and so on. People have knowledge and feel they need to share it immediately knowing others just don't want to know yet.

Especially since the birth of the DVR, Hulu, Netfix... etc. People watch when they have time. They don't run to their TV at 8 to catch Mad Men, they let it run a bit to be able to fast forward through commercials. Or even wait a few days. We can't be on a schedule anymore dammit!

So please note, if you're inability to post original content on FB and are reduced to copying dark music lyrics or spoilers... please defriend anyone you know who has a brain, free will... etc. Save them from you moronic nature and Buzzfeed post.

Now... a quick note. The end of Breaking Bad could be the best series finale I've ever seen. Congrats to everyone involved. You'll be missed.

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