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bulltim55: yo Yahoo! Messenger: mkreuzwieser has logged back in
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Yahoo! Messenger: mkreuzwieser has logged back in. mkreuzwieser: sorry. was downstairs mkreuzwieser: what’s new? bulltim55: nothin bulltim55: saw 2 stories of mine, two photos in nmb times bulltim55: solicitor bulltim55: burroughs an chapin story bulltim55: in their “chatterbox” gossip column they had a blip about me. bulltim55: tim bullard is always pleasant.... mkreuzwieser: always pleasant. sounds like your obit. bulltim55: got a 14 dollar check from catholic news service bulltim55: for flood story they shipped around the world bulltim55: maybe the pope read it mkreuzwieser: yeehaw. mkreuzwieser: money from us yet. mkreuzwieser: pope says, “My, that Msr. Bullarrrrrrd, is always pleasant.” mkreuzwieser: here’s a joke for ya: mkreuzwieser: An exhibitionist named Joe was preparing to board a flight to Atlanta. As he approached the open door of the plane at the end of the jet way, a very attractive flight attendant was collecting boarding passes. As she reached toward him for his boarding pass, he opened his raincoat and exposed himself.
not your stub.” bulltim55: ha bulltim55: that’s good mkreuzwieser: from susan early mkreuzwieser: did the main story on video poker today. bulltim55: kewl bulltim55: where is it bulltim55: good s.c. resource is bulltim55: www.sciway.net mkreuzwieser: should be on server late tonight. maybe tomorrow morning. bulltim55: k bulltim55: so you’re familier with the supreme court decision now i assume.... bulltim55: theya re mad as hornets bulltim55: it’s sinking in bulltim55: depressed they are bulltim55: i think they will commit crimes mkreuzwieser: who? bulltim55: video poker sucks mkreuzwieser: how about that doofus who initiated the suit to stop the referendum? mkreuzwieser: doh mkreuzwieser: they’ll eat their own now. bulltim55: they were wailing here bulltim55: guy in socastee was almost crying, bulltim55: treheatening to go on welfare in julyu bulltim55: go ahead mkreuzwieser: still, you can’t help but feel sorry for all the people who’ll be out of work. bulltim55: i don’t bulltim55: not at all bulltim55: guy at one place got real mad on wpde live in florence mkreuzwieser: good people just giving the people what they want. bulltim55: on the air with sen . hugh leatherman bulltim55: you could see it in his face bulltim55: he had a weasel moustache like john waters mkreuzwieser: horry county’s no. uno in video poker, right? mkreuzwieser: lots of people jobless there. bulltim55: yes bulltim55: there are plenty of jobs here bulltim55: not enough people to fill them bulltim55: they have to ship motel maids in from Jamaica mkreuzwieser: maybe they can get jobs with the s.c. lottery next year. bulltim55: hotel help from williamburg county bulltim55: nope bulltim55: they’ll strike that down mkreuzwieser: oh, jayzus. motel maid jobs! mkreuzwieser: who’s they? bulltim55: damned legacy alliance group ran ads turning VOTE NO into PLEDGE NO tonight bulltim55: tv mkreuzwieser: People have the RIGHT to spend their money anyway they want to. mkreuzwieser: pledge no for the poker crap. bulltim55: on pot bulltim55: i agree on pot mkreuzwieser: tv’s telling us how to live. bulltim55: people don’t have th eright if the government says no mkreuzwieser: i was ready to vote for poker just to piss off the righteous. mkreuzwieser: wrong! bulltim55: it all came down to the government can’t give south carolinians the right to write the laws bulltim55: and they shouldn’t bulltim55: south carolinians ain’t go tthe sense to govern themselves bulltim55: david dukes mkreuzwieser: spoken like a true north carolinian mkreuzwieser: who’d cross the line to break the law. mkreuzwieser: all a bunch of hypocrites bulltim55: i got the right to spend my money.....that’s idiocy mkreuzwieser: and self-serving rich mongrels. bulltim55: we don’t have the right to rip off tourists mkreuzwieser: why? bulltim55: http://www.policemag.com/ mkreuzwieser: you earned the money, you spend it anyway y9ou want without hurting someone else. bulltim55: it’s like larceny bulltim55: that’s police magazine bulltim55: where my story and pics will go bulltim55: http://www.policemag.com/ mkreuzwieser: nobody makes anyone buy pot of lottery tickets. bulltim55: nobody’s gonna either bulltim55: the lottery hasn’t got a chance in hell mkreuzwieser: i don’t like the government run by the rich pepole telling those with less power how to think, act and spend. bulltim55: it’s rolling bubba mkreuzwieser: damn, if a poor man’s got a dime, he should be able to spend it. bulltim55: 2.5 billion industry? lottery’s sunk bulltim55: diane’s office looks after the poor, and believe me, they need looking after more than those suckers who picked the wrong capital investment business to go into mkreuzwieser: lottery money will got educating the poor masses. mkreuzwieser: rich people don’t want it cos it’ll educate their slaves. mkreuzwieser: anything to keep people subservient. mkreuzwieser: rich get richer by gambling “legally.” bulltim55: your diatribes are sick. mkreuzwieser: why’s there two sets of laws? mkreuzwieser: you loser. bulltim55: where’s that calvinist soft spot? mkreuzwieser: bleeding heart liberal demagogue. mkreuzwieser: let peple take care of themselves and it’ll be a better world. bulltim55: i’m a left wing anarchist mkreuzwieser: no you’re not; you’re for biggggg government. To: Bea Catalano, Horry County Democratic Party Chair Dear Bea: I was hoping that the guilty Democrat who stole my TIME article the night the Hodges were visiting would return it. It was either you, Wayne Gray or Sally Howard because I know Vida Miller has too much class to do something like that in mid-interview of the future First Lady. I was embarrassed. I apologized to Ms. Hodges for “my fellow Democrats.” She looked like she was seeing it for the first time. I’m back online now after the video poker mess. I hope you’re fine. If I can ever help, let me know. I like Andy Brack, went to his inaugural party. Take it ez. Hope you like my articles. I have a photo in Army magazine this month on the flooding and in Police Magazine. I’m working at the Horry Independent for the SENIORS publication, while freelancing still for the North Myrtle paper. I had a story in The New Catholic Miscellany this week on the Taste of the Town, and I’m still stringing for the Post & Courier, although they’re quite haughty about what they use from Horry County. I’m still trying to get on at the Sun News - to no avail. Oh yeah. My mamma’s name is Bea, Beatrice. Later. Sincerely, Tim ************ I submitted a piece to a beer-making magazine, and they were sold, so it hasn’t run yet. “Gen. 6:17, And, behold, I, even I, do bring a flood of waters upon the earth, to destroy all flesh, wherein is the breath of life, from under heaven; and every thing that is in the earth shall die.” Nothing can describe the feeling of that first batch of beer after the burst of air and the initial gulp of satisfaction from the benchmark homemade barrel. After my wife bought me a beer-making kit for my birthday in 1995, there were many batches and successes with the five-gallon plastic container I used to make German and dark beers for my brothers, friends and my own satisfaction. (She made me stop making beer after overconsumption.) A month ago in the wake of Hurricane Floyd’s aftermath, our town, Conway, South Carolina, was experiencing the worst flooding in more than 100 years as the banks of the Waccamaw River overflowed, sending water over the banks of Crabtree Canal. This tributary is a block from our home, and as National Guardsmen, state police and emergency personnel met across U.S. 701 near our home, we huddled, reviewing our insurance policy and praying the flooding would not affect us. But as the flooding progressed, I followed FEMA Director James Lee Witt and Gov. Jim Hodges on a tour of the area. As a print journalist, I wrote many freelance stories and had many photographs published in Southeastern newspapers on the flood. “Have you called the 800 number?” Witt asked Sister Kathleen Kane, a Catholic nun who had been displaced because of flooding. I helped her move her computer as knee-high water lapped at my legs. Keeping an eye out for snakes, I watched as minnows darted in her backyard. State transportation department workers feverishly sandbagged sewage pump stations. Relief agencies including Catholic Charities, the American Red Cross, The Salvation Army and local organizations helped process flood victims, giving them Clorox, emergency kits and assistance while law enforcement personnel cordoned off U.S. 701, siphoning traffic through our neighborhood. In Charleston there was a controversial snafu involving the closing of I-26 to provide for four-lane exiting traffic when it took several hours for the governor’s order to be enacted. State Sen. Arthur Ravenel told a funny story on one AM radio station about how one physician’s wife and the family piled into the family vehicle for a nine-hour trip out of the city with the pets and a “silver service” which had been in the family for years and years. When the family was asked how they went to the bathroom during the trip, Ravenel said they said they used the silver service. Fortunately our situation never got quite that grim. The S.C. Department of Health and Environmental Control collected water samples on the shore one day to test for bacteria. There was looting in one flooded neighborhood, and some Horry County municipalities, including Myrtle Beach, enacted curfews during the hurricane to prevent people from being injured. While emergency officials urged residents to use precautions with standing water, mosquitoes and contaminated sewage runoff, we quickly converted into our emergency mode - filling the bathtub with water in case the sewage pump stations were overwhelmed, despite the Guardsmen’s sandbagging efforts. One trick we had employed during previous hurricane drills with Bertha, Fran and Floyd, was one which happened to be a plus and has turned my beer-making container into an instant hit here on Chicora Boulevard. “Why don’t we use the beer jug again?” my wife suggested. “Okay,” I concurred. “It worked great last time. It’s sanitary since it’s closed-off. Let me clean it out.” Using bleach, I wiped it out, rinsing it several times before filling it to the brim with tapwater. We did this before Hurricane Floyd, so we had plenty of drinking water. The power only went out once and was restored the day after the storm. We placed the kit in the kitchen, which was very convenient during and between meals, and we drank more water since it was there. There’s nothing better for you than water anyway, and there weren’t many bottled water jugs left at the supermarkets and stores. My kit made it through this one, but we did manage to crack the plastic lid a little, which can be mended. I wouldn’t trade my container for anything now, and it was definitely worth the $75 it cost initially. We’ll use it again, and hopefully, the disaster drill will not be as serious next go-round. ************* A picture of Jesus hangs on the wall as Betty Bibbey introduces herself to a small gathering at Little River United Methodist Church three years ago. Since then this 70-year-old Horry County woman has raised more sand than the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers did on the coast. Bibbey began a fight against the video poker industry, and her constituents are increasing. ”I was born in Portsmouth, Ohio. I went to school in Portsmouth and then Scioto County schools. We went to the same high school, but we didn’t start dating until he came home from the service during the second World War.” Bibbey is a member of Little River United Methodist Church. She and her husband, Edgar, live in Little River. “This all really began from a discussion in the Sunday School class. “We were talking about what might be the evils or injustices in our community. We were all pretty much in agreement that we were beginning to notice all these video poker casinos popping up. “One of the questions in our lesson was ‘What are you doing about it?’ That was the question that really got us started. We didn’t know. We decided to find out what we could do about it.” They counted the casinos - the total was 25. “There are 600 machines registered now with the Revenue Department in Little River. When we first started checking it out, there were about 300. This was three years ago in the spring.” Her reason for becoming involved was spiritual. “I knew the church should be against this kind of thing. The first thing we did was to go to our church council and ask for a statement on where we stood. We got the idea of getting petitions circulated. That was probably the first thing we did. It didn’t take us very long to get 875 signatures just in our neighborhood. With those we went to the county council and zoning board meetings, and we mailed those signatures to Governor David Beasley. “We just attended every meeting at which we could be heard. We went to the local delegation meeting and talked with our legislators. We learned that we couldn’t get anything on the ballot. I think that it’s really an injustice to people who can’t afford to lose their money. To have these machines everywhere, you know they’re in every bowling alley, in restaurants and in convenience stores. If a person has a problem with gambling, they can’t get away from it. “I’ve been angry about it for these three years. I’ve been mad at the video poker industry because of their greed. They have disregarded the intention of the law. They don’t care who they hurt. They do anything to entice people. It’s almost like a sucking noise, like the money is being sucked out of people’s pockets into the industry’s pockets. I think it’s the worst kind of gambling that could be.” Bibbey spoke at the Myrtle Beach Chicora Rotary Club meeting Friday at noon at the Dunes Club where I bartended during the Senior Tour my first year in Horry County. Glenn and Peter O’Connell, who also ended up at the Las Vegas paper, came on Sunday, and I gave them free liquor. “That was quite interesting to get to do that. Dr. Paul Wood was with us, pastor of Little River United Methodist Church. I think the referral came from Clay Adams at First United Methodist Church.” Her meetings draw interesting visitors, like Liz Gilland, a member of the Horry County Council, and Horry County Sheriff Teddy Henry. One participant was Paul Gasque, former Florence supervisor of the S.C. Law Enforcement Division, now a pastor of two Horry County congregations. In the middle of Hurricane Dennis a conclave of Horry County church members were discussing a religious topic at First Baptist Church in Myrtle Beach. The group now has a name for their stormfront. “We had a long meeting,” said Bibbey. “A lot of things were discussed. We decided we would call ourselves Citizens Against Video Gambling. We’re going to meet in two weeks. We plan to have an informational and motivational meeting with as many pastors and members in Horry County as we can possibly notify. We hope to have yard signs and bumper stickers. We’re going to have the voter registration list for all of Horry County available and a precinct map.” The last night of video poker I spent riding around in Conway, watching as the lights went out. There were U-Hauls in Little River stacked up like Continental jets over Chicago. One joint had a “Godfather II” poster inside as customers played furiously, and everybody was pissed off the industry was defeated. **************** The year 1859 was a great year in history. When Western Union created a “92 Code” with words designated by numbers, the number “73,” which was my number in high school football I picked after the wildest player our team had ever had in its history, meant “Accept my compliments.” If the Morse code fellow tacked on “30” to a message, it meant, “The end. No More.” Oh yeah. The whorehouse is still open. ************ Have you ever gone into work and found that your belongings have been stripped from your desk, moved to an undisclosed location while someone else’s briefcase and junk occupies the space you used to guard like Les Nesman from WKRP? It’s happened before, and it’s happened again. “I’m sorry we moved your stuff without telling you,” the publisher says. I hate selling advertising. I’m a frigging journalist. For several months now I’ve been beating the streets for the local weekly, a conservative Republican rag, and the editor hates me. “I think he’s a subversive,” she told a SLED agent. The new governor, Jim Hodges, was visiting Horry County for the first time since he was elected, and the press corps was following him around a local school, Carolina Forest. I’m standing there, notebook in hand with a camera, and the poor cop comes over and frisks me, laughing as she watches. I had to just laugh, but it pissed me off so bad. So she has passed me over since I started at the rag, as I watched three reporters slid through the slot open to me, and now, as it stands, I’m just doing stories and photos on senior citizens for a monthly insert while attempting to sell ads for it. I’m on the way out. Nobody’s friendly at the paper. And when you’re on the way out, nobody ever says anything to you. When they pass you, they might ask how you’re doing, or how it’s going, and you mumble something back, but I’m so embarrassed. I can’t get a job at the Sun News, the 60,000 circulation daily in Myrtle Beach because I figure I’ve been blackballed since I got fired in Florence. I fire off resumes via my computer fax. In the past three months I’ve had three major magazine articles published, and I rocket them off to editors too, but to no avail. In Army magazine, circulation 130,000, I had a photograph of a bunch of National Guard members sandbagging a sewage pump station during the flooding. I even blew up a copy and sent it to their commandant to say thanks for the assistance. Of all publications, Police magazine in Torrance, Calif. published a full-page story on the flooding I sent them plus three sweet photographs I scanned and e-mailed. There’s a photograph of the governor talking to the troops, and one picture that’s made several publications, The Carolina News of The Savannah Morning News in Bluffton, the Spartanburg Herald-Journal and The New Catholic Miscellany. Everybody must like it a lot. It’s a shot of a guy who was using a Salvation Army cup at Savannah Bluff Landing where he was assisting relatives. He’s scooping water out of a boat which has a lot of water in it, and he’s bending over, peering up at me. A road sign is crooked, falling sideways in the background, and there is a red canoe in the background. I’ve never had three magazine articles published in three months. The only magazine article I’ve had printed was about the hot air balloonist in Pee Dee Magazine, the local conservative historical publication. I’ve run out of options in journalism in Horry County; the Post & Courier editor in Charleston doesn’t print anything anymore that I send him, and the Catholic stories don’t pay the mortgage. I’m stuck. I’m feeling sorry for myself, and it’s degrading, pitiful and sickeningly futile. ************ Doing the cop beat can be fun, but most of the time it’s boring as hell, and it can definitely get tricky if you get the person’s name wrong or worse - their age. I was never worried about somebody raising a fuss from out of town. They were gone and forgotten, always wondering, “Did I make the cop column in their paper? I was just a weekend drunk....” I need a drug dog to find the pot my wife hid from me. What really sucks is having to wait in line after a few power-hungry TV folks push their way and break in line at the dispatcher station or the records department. At the Hickory Daily Record I was covering cops when a call came in. “They’re going to be bringing that cocaine dealer in for booking soon. You might wanna be here.” “Thanks man. Should I bring a camera?” The person had already hung up, and all I could hear was a dial tone. I waited for about 25 minutes, burning Salems outside and talking with passersby after I had read all of the Charlotte Observer. Finally, a white and light blue squad car pulled up, and behind the cage was a shadow. As they were bringing him in, I noticed, as I have done countless times before, that I had forgotten to load any film in the camera. I hate taking pictures because it always slows me down writing. “Is that the suspect?” asked an old geezer with three days of whiskers and whiskey breath to stun a moose. “I think so. The one with the cuffs. Nice jacket. They must have woken him up.” “They ought to throw the book at that guy, selling drugs to our kids.” “Right on, man,” I responded, nodding as I puffed a long drag and clamped the film door shut. Having no film has never stopped me or even slowed me down. As the two Download 2.99 Mb. Share with your friends:
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