More than just hot dogs, chili made Sue’s special

I wish I could tell you I’m speaking from the heart, but really, I’m speaking from the belly.

That’s what happens when you learn that a place as meaningful as Sue’s Hot Dogs is selling its business. Sure, the new owners could possibly keep that Steamshovel Road tradition going, but it just won’t be the same, no matter what happens.

Yes, kids, 213 really happened in Stanton, Kentucky

In going through some old newspaper clippings a couple of weeks ago, I found this old column I had published in The Clay City Times sometime in the fall of 1997. For those who aren’t familiar with Powell County history, this was an odd time in Stanton, as we had been receiving some statewide (and perhaps national) attention for a so-called “gang,” better known as 213, after the death of its chief tuff and a subsequent riot after the funeral.

Back then, I found the whole thing hard to believe, and now, 15 years later, I find it even more ridiculous to think the “hard” streets of Stanton were being patrolled by a gang of hoodlums and hooligans.

I’ll leave it to you decide, from your memories, from your imagination, and now, from this. Enjoy:

Remembering Bro. Rule: Article recounts final sermon

The following was an article I wrote for The Clay City Times after Brother Rule’s last sermon Dec. 28, 1997, as the minister at First Presbyterian Church. I share in memory of all the good this man did for Powell Countians throughout his life:

2011 Skullz Fantasy Football: Back to back to back, or How I Dominated Again

I’ll keep it simple.

Dear Powell County: James Anderson is the best choice for judge-executive

I’m using my blog today to share a guest column my cousin Chris Nolan submitted to the Clay City Times in support of James Anderson for Powell County judge-executive. I’m asking my Powell County friends to take a few minutes to read (or perhaps re-read) what Chris has to say, then help share the message by posting the link on your own Facebook page, blog, Twitter account, skywriting message or whatever form of social media you have available.

I’ve known James since the mid-1980s and really got the chance to bond with him as we both sat on the end of the bench for the Powell County freshman and junior varsity basketball teams when we were freshmen and sophomores. At that time, much of our talks focused on one of three things: 1. how much we hated sitting on the bench; 2. which cheerleaders were the prettiest; 3. which schools’ locker rooms were the best.

1,000 Words: Three Wheels and Hope

I am not a photographer, at least not a trained photographer.

Having spent eight years at a community newspaper, though, I picked up a few tricks here and there, and over time, I’ve managed to capture a few images I’ve thought were worth sharing. Over the coming weeks, I’m going to post a few in a new series I’m calling “1,000 Words.” I hope to post the image, maybe tell a bit about the shot itself and, if applicable, a story behind the image.

TTO goes digital: ‘I Really Like Corn’

I nearly flunked out of college my freshman year.

Some people get bad grades because of too much drinking or overall general stupidity, but for Aaron Saylor and me, it came down to two things: too much late-night basketball (although, to be fair, we did become sort of legendary at the North Campus blue courts) and planning a radio show.

Hey You: Consider donating as I Run Like Hell (note the two Pink Floyd references)

On May 7, I’m going to once again take part in the Powell County Kiwanis Club’s annual 5K at Natural Bridge. Last year, I did it as a goof, mainly proving to myself that I could do it. This year, I have a deeper reason: I’m running to raise money for Powell County’s Relay for Life, in memory of my late friend, the inestimable Norman Watson.

If you feel like making a charitable donation (I think it’s likely tax-deductible, too, but I’m not an accountant, so you probably want to double-check that), please message me to work out the arrangements. You can sponsor me per mile (3.2 in total) or K (5, duh), by time (last year I finished in 29:53, so you can put money on me beating it) or any other way you choose.

Thanks for considering this.

Eat it, George Orwell; or Why 1984 was the Greatest Year Ever

When it comes to 1984, I’m less Orwellian than I am David Lee Rothian.

While George preached about the horrors of Big Brother, Diamond Dave sang hosannas in honor of the time-honored tradition of s-e-x. At least I’m pretty sure that’s what he meant when, following Eddie Van Halen’s blistering solo, he said he would “reach down between my legs n’ ease the seat back.” I could be wrong, though; perhaps the car lacked ample leg space for a comfortable ride. Dammit, that sounds dirty, too. Thanks a lot, David Lee Roth.

SK5K

I’ve found myself, in reasons I don’t fully understand, taking part in a 5K run Saturday morning in Powell County.

I’ve never run a 5K. I’ve never run a 1K. The last time I took part in any sanctioned running contest was in fifth grade.

That was in spring of 1986.