Your best Halloween story?

I've always loved those round-the-campfire stories people tell at Halloween (or in other dark and scary moments). Ever since mankind figured out it was kind of fun to be scared, we've passed down these stories. I'm sure the Neanderthals spent long nights talking about the legend of the Headless Mastodon.

For me, the shortest stories are often the creepiest because they let your imagination fill in the blanks. I still get a chill when I think about sitting in the library in high school and watching the short film of Shirley Jackson's horror masterpiece "The Lottery." (The story itself is even better.)

So for this Halloween, here's what I want from you: Your best Halloween story, in 50 words or less.

My favorite ultra-short horror story is one I ran across in the preface to a Stephen King collection -- it's part of the story "Knock" by Fredric Brown. The story goes like this:


The last man on Earth was alone in a room.

There was a knock on the door.

There's only one story I can think of that's more scary:

The Panthers have to choose between a backup quarterback with a bad back, or a third-string quarterback with a bad foot.

AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!

Post your tales of terror below.

Vegas, baby. Vegas.

Spent a little R&R time in Las Vegas last week. This was my second trip and so far I've managed to come back alive, unindicted, and still able to pay the mortgage. This time I even came back a little ahead, not because of any skill on my part but because of a lucky royal flush on video poker.

(That's my Official Gambling Tip: If you can draw a royal flush, by all means do.)

I'm not a big gambler but Vegas is still one of my favorite places because of the unparalleled people-watching and the five-star eavesdropping. (I overheard two conventioneers at a blackjack table seriously discussing whether they should hit a strip club or see Celine Dion.)

So I've been wondering what Charlotte could learn from Vegas, assuming that we're not going to install slot machines up and down Tryon Street anytime soon. Here's a few thoughts:

1. Create a central spot people HAVE to see. Vegas is a huge, sprawling city -- much like Charlotte -- but if you visit there you have to hit the Strip. There's nowhere here that people feel like they have to see. Uptown is a lot more lively than it used to be, but it's still spread out. We need an entertainment district that draws in tourists and locals.

2. Give people something to do when they get there. There's a lot to do in Vegas even if you don't gamble -- you can ride rollercoasters, play carnival games, even pose with terrifyingly lifelike wax figures. In uptown Charlotte there's not all that much to do, unless you're a kid at Discovery Place. We need stuff for people who like to do more than watch. (If there's not some sort of driving simulator at the NASCAR Hall of Fame, those guys are morons.)

3. Make parking easier. Time and time again I've heard people from the Charlotte suburbs say they don't come uptown for events because it's too hard -- and too expensive -- to park. In Vegas all the casinos have free parking decks. Maybe that's an option for our parking decks after 5 and on weekends.

4. Provide options at every price level. In Vegas, you can buy a $50 steak or a 99-cent hot dog. You can play the slots for $500 a shot or a penny a pull. Charlotte isn't as accessible across the board. It's harder to get cheap tickets to good events. We maximize our dollars -- a Charlotte virtue -- but we lose out on a little funk and fun. Plus, Vegas understands that a cheap meal (and a free parking space) is a loss leader.

5. Don't be afraid of shameless commerce. In Vegas, the glitzy billboards and flyers for various, uh, services are part of the scenery. In Charlotte, street musicians have to get permits and they won't even allow ads on city buses. Sometimes a little selling out is a good thing.

6. Wayne Newton. I don't really have anything to add, just, Wayne Newton.

Any other ways we could learn from Vegas? Or do you just have a good Vegas story? Add your tales of woe and blackjack in the comments.

The Friday Five

Some links to take with you this weekend:

1. The best commercial I've seen all year. You will never hear Phil Collins the same way again.

2. Seeing Elvis Costello the other night led me to this Elvis wiki with enough to satisfy a fan for days. (Here's the setlist from the Charlotte show.)

3. Scott Price is one of the best writers left at Sports Illustrated. In his college days, he wrote sports at UNC Chapel Hill at the same time a kid named Michael Jordan played there. This piece for the Oxford American talks a little about that, and more about what it's like to be a writer, especially a sportswriter. Mighty fine work.

4. I'm doing some work on a story about the Spongetones -- the Charlotte pop band that was huge here in the '80s and still plays to devoted crowds today. Their MySpace page is incredibly detailed -- it's like an encyclopedia of the band, complete with music and video.

5. Those of us who follow SEC football are obsessed with Florida quarterback Tim Tebow, one of the most hyped QB prospects ever -- it is quite possible, although he has never done so in a game, that he can simply vanish from the field and materialize in the end zone. I went to Georgia -- Florida's hated rival -- so of course I want to hate Tim Tebow. But he's making it really hard. This New York Times piece reveals him to be an interesting and (it hurts to say this) decent guy.

If you've run across cool stuff you want to share, link away in the comments. Have a great weekend.

Elvis review: Do lyrics matter?

Last night we saw Elvis Costello (with his longtime keyboardist Steve Nieve) at the Belk Theater. Tremendous show. Elvis is mellower now, even sort of charming, although the angry Elvis came out in the antiwar comments he sprinkled in between songs. Most of the crowd cheered, but he did get a few boos -- possibly the first boos in Belk Theater history.

Pretty cool to see that he can still stir people up.

But for most of the night I was thinking about lyrics. I'm a former music writer, and I will be sent straight to music-critic hell for saying this, but here it is: Most of the time, lyrics don't matter to me.

What moves me about music is the melody, the groove, the arrangement, the way the sounds blend and clash. Lyrics are part of that, but mostly for how they sound, not for what they mean. I was on my fourth R.E.M. album before I could understand a word Michael Stipe said. But that mumbly voice, paired with that music, was perfect.

Bob Dylan, on the other hand, is overrated. (Definitely going to music-critic hell now.)

I bring this up because Elvis Costello is an exception. He's such a gifted writer that you can parse his songs like a poem, but they also fit in with the sound of the song. Plus he has one of my two favorite couplets in rock history, from "(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes":

I said "I'm so happy I could die"
She said "Drop dead" and left with another guy...

My other favorite couplet, from the Ramones' "Teenage Lobotomy":

Now I guess I'll have to tell 'em
That I got no cerebellum...

As you can see, I'm not exactly an intellectual when it comes to this stuff.

Got your own favorite lines? Reviews of the Elvis show? Or any Dylan fans out there who want to defend their guy? Fire away in the comments...

A Dot, and a Pearl

It's a busy Friday but I wanted to point y'all to a couple of things:

-- On Sunday I'll have a story in the paper about a momentous day in Charlotte history -- the day Dorothy Counts (now Dot Counts-Scoggins) integrated Harding High School. As of now (2 p.m. Friday), there's a slideshow on charlotte.com that serves as sort of a preview. On Sunday we'll have a story in the paper, plus photos, video and other extras online.

We'll also be running other stories this month about the events of September '57, including updates on the other three black children who integrated the Charlotte schools that day.

-- On a different subject: Back in 1986 I wrote a story on a guy named Pearl Fryar, who lives in Bishopville, S.C., and does amazing topiary work with the trees and plants in his yard. Pearl is one of my all-time favorite people. Well, now there's a documentary about him -- "A Man Named Pearl" -- and it's showing in Charlotte this week at the Regal Stonecrest 22. Larry Toppman, our movie critic, reviewed the movie in today's E&T (three stars!) and wrote about the filmmakers for Wednesday's paper.

I've seen the movie. It's great, and you will love Pearl Fryar. Go check it out.

School overcrowding -- old news

Lately I've been combing through a bunch of old Observers from 50 years ago. (It's for a project that will show up in the paper in a few weeks; that's the reason I haven't written as many columns lately.)

The front page of the paper from Sept. 4, 1957, has a story with the headline "Area Schools Expect 52,000." That's less than half the size of the Char-Meck school system today.

Here's a couple of paragraphs from the story:

"Five new schools and additions at 13 other schools are now open or will soon be completed in an attempt to relieve pressure of the ever increasing pupil load.

"Despite this, double sessions and staggered sessions will still be necessary at some schools both in city and county."

School overcrowding in Charlotte is a lot of things -- divisive, contentious, frustrating, damaging, painful.

The one thing it's not is new.

It's so hot in Charlotte...

On Monday I was down in Columbia to hang out with some of the fabulous folks at The State newspaper. We talked a lot about the heat.

As many of you know, Columbia is the hottest place in the South and one of the hottest places not located directly on the surface of the sun. Today in Columbia it was a balmy 102 degrees. The good news is, there's also humidity. You can leave a live chicken and a can of Crisco on the sidewalk and come back to find an 8-piece box.

So in honor of the heat (and in tribute to Johnny Carson) The State asked readers to finish the sentence: "It's so hot in Columbia that..."

You can see the results here. And although a couple are fairly funny, I have to think the intelligent and sophisticated residents of Charlotte can do better.

And it was 100 degrees here today, so you don't want to be going outside, right?

So let's hear it in the comments: It's so hot in Charlotte...

Bonus points for local references, of course.

Time to make some trades

If you follow sports you know that this was a big week for trades. In the NBA, the Boston Celtics traded half their team -- and, I think, the old Boston Garden parquet -- for superstar Kevin Garnett.

The baseball trading deadline was also this week, and a bunch of deals went down -- the main one being in Atlanta, where the Braves traded one hard-to-pronounce player for another.

It's always fun to fantasize about sports trades. But here's your challenge for the day: Come up with a Carolinas trade that DOESN'T involve sports.

For example: We went to Baltimore a few weeks ago. I'd trade uptown Charlotte for downtown Baltimore in a heartbeat. Baltimore has a harbor, a fabulous aquarium, a neoclassic baseball park, and the beautiful and disturbing American Visionary Arts Museum.

Our uptown is a lot better than it was 10 years ago. It's an up-and-comer. But downtown Baltimore is a proven veteran. I'd make the deal.

Sports trades have two unofficial rules:

1) You trade value for value. Nobody's going to give you Paris if you're offering Pineville. Sometimes you have to throw in a little extra -- if we're swapping downtowns with Baltimore, maybe we have to toss in SouthPark to sweeten the deal.

2) Having said that, you want to get the best of the deal, but you want the other guy to think HE got the best of it.

So that's the idea. Would you trade our mayor for some other leader of roughly equal value? Our trees for some other city's nightlife? Would you give away a great Carolinas barbecue joint for somebody else's crab shack?

Start dealing below. And justify your trades. The commissioner (um, me) has final authority over all transactions. Don't make me start testing for steroids.

Dying in threes?

Every newspaper I've ever worked for, or known much about, subscribes to the same legend -- that the deaths of famous people always come in threes.

Whenever a couple of celebrities die on the same day, somebody in the newsroom always wonders who'll be the third to take the fall. (Newspeople have the same strain of black humor that you find among EMTs, social workers, cops -- folks who see the dark side of life up close every day.)

So when I checked the news Monday morning and saw that Ingmar Bergman and Tom Snyder had died, my reflex thought was: "Who's next?"

Bill Walsh obliged.

(That's an interesting group, by the way. I'm not highbrow enough to know much about Bergman, except that one of his famous scenes was ripped off in one of the "Bill & Ted" movies. Tom Snyder I knew a little -- mainly because the theme to his show was the flip side of one of the first singles I ever bought, the Brothers Johnson's immortal "Get The Funk Out Ma Face." And I hated Bill Walsh when he coached the San Francisco 49ers because they CRUSHED my then-beloved Atlanta Falcons for, like, eight years straight. Plus he trained George Seifert, who later led the Panthers to a 1-15 season. Maybe we should just move on.)

I'm sure that those of you who are statistically inclined could say that famous people die all the time -- especially if you're willing to stretch your definition of famous people -- and so we've just conditioned ourselves to notice them in groups of three.

Can't argue with that.

But I think life is better when there are mysteries. One of my old college roommates swore that there was some weird electrical pulse in his body that made streetlights go out when he walked by. And, in fact, I saw this happen at least half a dozen times. Of course, I've seen streetlights go out at least 100 times when he wasn't around. But I'm still gonna go with that pulse thing until I hear different.

Noticed any interesting stuff that you can't quite explain? Speculate away in the comments. (But stay away from UFOs. I mean, at this point, who hasn't seen a UFO?)

Shed a tear for Bat Boy

Sad news from Florida -- the Weekly World News is going six feet under.

If you don't know the Weekly World News, clearly you have not spent any time over the last 20 years in a supermarket. The WWN used to sit in the rack near the checkout of every grocery store and Jiffy Mart in America. It had the eerie ability to leap right off the rack and into your hands. I swear, sometimes I'd get home and unload my bags and find it hiding in there, next to the Wheaties.

Sample headlines:

WORLD'S SMARTEST APE GOES TO COLLEGE

BIGFOOT KEPT LUMBERJACK AS LOVE SLAVE

PHOTO OF ELVIS CURED MY CANCER!

As you can see, the Weekly World News held itself to the highest journalistic standards.

The WWN actually had a Charlotte connection -- Eddie Clontz, who was the editor for years, grew up here. His brother, Derek, also worked for the paper. Eddie died in 2004 -- devoured by the Loch Ness Monster, I'm guessing.

The Weekly world News' greatest story was the continuing saga of Bat Boy, a (duh) half-bat, half-boy who was discovered in a cave in 1992. He turned up every year or two -- in fact, people who didn't read the WWN might not know this, but Bat Boy led U.S. troops into Iraq in the War on Terror. He also became the subject of an off-Broadway musical.

(Believe it or not, that last sentence is true.)

The paper also checked in regularly with a space alien who endorsed presidential candidates. The alien endorsed George W. Bush in 2004. So there's still hope that aliens might not be smarter than us after all.

Apparently the Weekly World News will remain on the Web -- good news for the people who need a regular dose of columnist Ed Anger. But it's easy to see why the print edition is shutting down. The WWN had to compete at the checkout rack with People, Us and Entertainment Weekly.

And frankly, Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears are battier than Bat Boy ever was.

Got a favorite tabloid story? Add favorite stories, UFO sightings, etc., in the comments.

Which sport do I watch now?

When I was a kid, I wasn't sure what I was going to be when I grew up, but I had it narrowed down to three things:

1. Professional baseball player.
2. Professional football player.
3. Professional basketball player.


OK, so my worldview was sort of narrow when I was a kid. (Actually, my real dream was "Professional kickball player," but I never could find a kickball game on TV, not even on "Wide World of Sports.")

Even then I knew that sports weren't all pure and beautiful -- I think a couple of the pitchers in my Little League years were already paying child support. But when you were watching a game -- or, especially, playing one -- you could escape the real world for awhile.

So let's take a look at my childhood dream jobs.

-- In baseball, the home-run record -- the most important record in sports -- is about to belong to a guy (Barry Bonds) who almost certainly took steroids to pad his stats.

-- In football, one of the game's best and most popular players (Michael Vick) is accused of setting up a dogfighting operation -- and killing the pit bulls that didn't measure up.

-- In basketball, a referee (Tim Donaghy) is accused of betting on games and giving big gamblers key info to help them beat the odds. It's a small step from there to the idea that he changed the outcome of games by calling fouls -- or not calling them -- at key moments.

I really try not to be one of those fogeys who talk about how much better life was back then. Mainly because I don't think it's true.

But July 2007 is a crappy time to be a sports-loving kid.

A Harry Potter confession

This will probably not do much for my street cred among writers, book lovers, and especially the folks chewing their nails waiting for "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" to land in their hands at 12:01 Saturday morning.

But here goes anyway.

I haven't read a single Harry Potter book. Not one page. Not one line.

My wife loves them, and we've been to see the HP movies together, and I like those just fine. But I can't quite make myself crack open one of the books. Even though roughly 171,000 people have told me how great they are and how my life will not be complete without them.

I can't explain how a professional writer has managed to miss out entirely on the most popular books in the last 50 years. I have three lame excuses:

One, I tend to resist things that people tell me my life will not be complete without. (I've never watched "Lost," either.)

Two, we're always bringing home books -- from work, bookstores, the library -- and I always find something I want to read just a little bit more. (This week's diversion: "Can I Keep My Jersey?", a smart and funny tale of life on the fringes of pro basketball by journeyman Paul Shirley.)

And three, the Harry Potter books are so popular that they're floating around in the ether -- they're in the news all the time, part of the chatter at the office, etc. You know all the basics without even picking up the books. They're so much a part of daily conversation when a new one comes out that millions of readers spent this week trying to AVOID hearing about it, lest they hear spoilers.

(Where did that "lest" come from? I'd never use "lest" in a real conversation. But it seems right for wizardry chat.)

Anyway, we've got the books, and we'll be acquiring the new one this weekend, so I'll probably take a vacation sometime and tackle the whole series end-to-end. But this leads to a question:

Is there some cultural touchstone that you've just never gotten around to touching?

Never seen "The Wizard of Oz?" Never listened to "Sgt. Pepper" all the way through? Never read any of Oprah's picks?

'Fess up in the comments.

What did you walk out on?

Generally, I'm a stay-to-the-end guy. Doesn't matter if the game is boring or the movie makes no sense or the lead singer can't hit a note with a tennis racket. Sometimes it's more fun to watch bad stuff than good stuff. Sometimes you might leave just before something great happens. And I've never cared about beating traffic.

Still, this Chicago Tribune blog post about walking out on movies made me go back and remember. I can think of two things I walked out on.

-- When I was in high school, the movie "Tess" came out. Here's the imdb.com description: A young strong-willed peasant girl, becomes the affection of two men, in the end tragically falling into the arms of one.

Just the kind of movie your typical teenage boy would love. In hell.

Best I can remember, I went for two reasons: 1) I had a crush on a girl who worked at the theater, and 2) The movie starred Nastassja Kinski, and I thought there was a chance she might get naked. I never found out about 2) because I fell asleep about 15 minutes in. When I woke up, men in Victorian wear were giving long speeches. So I left.

-- The other event I walked out on was in 1995, when my beloved Georgia Bulldogs played our hated rivals, the Florida Gators, in Athens. It was a special event because the teams usually play on a neutral field in Jacksonville. It turned out not to be a special event when Florida went up 35-0 in, I think, the second quarter. By then I was already halfway to my car. The final score was 52-17.

It hurt just to write that.

So... Have you ever been to something that was so bad you walked out? Or did something make you walk out for another reason (too scary, too loud, etc.)? Add your candidates in the comments.

Go see this movie

My wife will testify to this: I don't cry at movies. (Maybe "Brian's Song," but hey, I was 10.)

Sunday night we went to see "Once." I misted up about a third of the way in. By the end, we both had to just sit there for a few minutes before we could breathe. And I haven't stopped thinking about it since.

I've seen movies that were more polished, better-acted, probably even movies with better music. But I can't remember another movie that hit me this hard.

The plot is simple. An Irish street musician acquires a fan -- a Czech immigrant girl. It turns out she's a musician too. They play together and discover a connection that goes beyond words -- and beyond their complicated personal lives.

It's a musical, but not in any traditional way. The characters don't suddenly, artificially break into song; they're musicians, so the songs rise naturally out of whatever they're doing at the moment. The lead actors (Glen Hansard of Irish band the Frames, and Czech singer Marketa Irglova) wrote and sing the songs.

And the past two paragraphs don't even come close to describing how powerful this movie is.

To me there's no stronger artistic force in the universe than a great three-minute song. "Once" is full of them, and as they unfold in the movie -- as you get to know the characters and root for them -- every chord change matters.

It's rated R, which blows my mind. The characters know and love the F-word, but I promise you, there is nothing else in the movie that's offensive in any way. The lessons from the movie are so rich that, if I were a parent, I'd take my teenager in a heartbeat.

At work today, those of us who've seen it have formed a little cult. "And then the scene at the music store..." "And then the scene with his dad..."

Now that I've read all this I realize it sounds like a mushy love letter. Sorry about that. But after "Once" was over I went home, read about it online and downloaded the soundtrack. It's on my iPod right now. I can't recommend the movie highly enough.

Go see for yourself. Then come back here and tell me what you thought.

In the meantime, here's a YouTube of the two leads playing a song from the movie at the Sundance Film Festival.

Disappearing Charlotte icons

This month marks 18 years since I started at the Observer. (I was 7 when they hired me. Labor laws were different then.)

I was thinking the other day about how many Charlotte icons from back then have already disappeared. Charlotte has always been Churn City -- we do more reinventing than a plastic surgeon -- but when I started writing things down, I was amazed how much has vanished in less than two decades.

I'm not even talking about the big stuff, like the Coliseum or the PTL Club. I'm just thinking about little touchstones that meant something to me for one reason or another.

Here's a quick list:

10. The Bootery and Bloomery

When I got to Charlotte, if you headed out of uptown on Independence Boulevard, you came to a hard left just past the John Belk Freeway. Right in front of you as you made the turn were two stores -- a Krispy Kreme and the Bootery and Bloomery.

Krispy Kreme you know about. The Bootery and Bloomery had display windows that featured lots of lingerie and fishnet stockings. Let me tell you, there were no stores like that where I grew up. At one time they apparently had live models in the display windows. I always wondered how many teenage boys wrecked their cars in that spot.

9. The Scoreboard

This was a giant sports bar further out Independence, almost to Matthews. It's been about eight different things since the Scoreboard closed. When it opened, it was the first sports bar I'd ever been to with little speakers at every table that you could tune to whatever game was on. Plus the seats at the bar swiveled so you could check on five or six games at once. It was like I had ordered the place direct from heaven.

I was with a group of buddies at the Scoreboard in 1992 for Duke-Kentucky, the greatest college basketball game ever played. I didn't have a dog in the hunt -- I went to Georgia -- so I decided to root for Kentucky, my fellow Southeastern Conference school. A Duke guy across the bar picked up on this and started talking trash my way. Actually, he was talking trash everybody's way. It's possible, based on Duke's demographic statistics, that he might have been from New Jersey.

With 7.8 seconds left, Christian Laettner made two free throws to put Duke up 102-101. The Duke guy jumped up in his seat, screamed for joy and flipped me a bird. But then a Kentucky player made an absurd running bank shot with 2.1 seconds left to put Kentucky up 103-102.

Duke called a timeout. Duke Guy was distraught beyond words. He silently got up and left the bar.

HE LEFT THE BAR.

You probably know what happened next: Laettner caught a full-court pass from Grant Hill, took a quick dribble, and drained a fallaway at the buzzer to win the game for Duke.

I think I would have given the contents of my checking account at the time ($27.63) to see the look on that guy's face when he heard the screams from inside the bar.

8. Hello Henry

Henry Boggan was the evening talk-show host on WBT radio from 1979 to 1996. He was moderate, folksy and kind. He listened more than he talked. He would have absolutely no shot at a job in radio today.

7. Random wrestler encounters

As Tom Sorensen wrote Tuesday, Charlotte used to be a pro wrestling town. Some wrestlers still live here -- led by Ric Flair, of course -- but you used to see them everywhere.

One day in Rock Hill I was getting gas, a blue Cadillac pulled up to the next pump, and Ivan Koloff got out. I stalled a little when it came time to pay so I could walk in behind him. I craned my neck the best I could, but I never could see if IVAN KOLOFF was stamped on his MasterCard.

Once he was the most evil of all the evil Russian wrestlers.

These days, Ivan does weddings.

6. Newsstand International

OK, this is getting long so I'll pick up the pace. Newsstand International used to be the only place in town you could get out-of-town papers and obscure magazines (I mean in the non-pornographic way, but if I remember right they could help you out there too.) The first place I found it was in a shopping center tucked into an apartment complex off Providence Road. Then it was on Independence for awhile, then it moved to East Morehead, then it closed. Too many Barnes & Nobles.

5. Andersons

We wrote 372 stories on Andersons when it closed last year, so I won't linger on it, except for two things:

-- I met Peter Gorman for breakfast there after he had been in town a month, and the waitress already knew what to bring him.

-- A Starbucks is going in there. Then again, a Starbucks is going in everywhere.

4. The Shrine Bowl

This is a high-school all-star game, North Carolina vs. South Carolina. For years they played it at Memorial Stadium next to Central Piedmont Community College. The Carolinas always have a few major-college prospects, so going to the Shrine Bowl was always a fun way to blow a Saturday.

In the early '90s I saw a Spartanburg High running back named Steve Davis fly past N.C. tacklers. Years later, as Stephen Davis, he starred for the Carolina Panthers.

They still play the Shrine Bowl but now it's in... Spartanburg. Steve Davis must have REALLY impressed the Shriners.

3. Repo Records

Not only was this the coolest record store in town, not only did it have the weirdest cashiers, not only was it the place where I first heard Southern Culture on the Skids, but it was also the place where I sold some used cassettes for gas money before I got my first Observer paycheck. So I'll always be grateful.

2. Kenny Gattison

I know it's hard to believe, with all the yawning empty seats at Bobcats games, but Charlotte was absolutely insane about the Charlotte Hornets. Lots of people loved Larry Johnson, Alonzo Mourning and Muggsy Bogues. I loved Kenny Gattison.

In his NBA career (including six years with the Hornets) he averaged 8 points, 5 rebounds, 3 personal fouls and approximately 19 scattered bodies a game. It seemed like every time he went up for a rebound, the opposing forward went down to the floor. Which explains all those personal fouls.

He was not blessed with a lot of natural gifts, but he worked and hustled and bulldozed his way to success. Which is pretty much the way I think of Charlotte.

1. The Pterodactyl Club

I went there all the time when I first got to town. Some of those nights I don't remember. Some I didn't recall even as they were happening. The Pterodactyl was over at Morehead and Freedom Drive, and there were always sketchy characters in the parking lot, and since this is meant to be a tribute, we won't talk about the bathrooms.

But it had lots of room and cold beer and great bands. I saw They Might Be Giants in there one night and it changed my life.

Geeks like me, dancing.

OK. This was a long list. I'm whipped. What Charlotte icons do YOU miss?

Back at the paragraph factory

So how y'all been?

I'm back at work today after taking a few weeks off to relax, visit family and friends, do some quality porch-sitting with Fred the hound dog, that sort of thing. I also spent a few days in Memphis, checking out the great Stax Museum and playing cards with the brilliant sportswriter Joe Posnanski, who... well, let him tell it. And buy his book.

Toward the end of the vacation I got a little antsy and spent a couple hours redesigning the blog. You should have seen it -- cool green palette, funky fonts, the whole deal.

It turns out this was a very bad idea.

Along the way I erased some of the code that our Web staff uses to count visitors, display the Charlotte.com logo, send you spam from Nigeria, etc. It is also possible, this being the Internets, that I might have unintentionally launched a nuclear missile. Sorry, tech folks, and sorry, North Korea.

I did keep a new photo and blogroll and such. Of course, now that I've done all this work on how the site looks, I guess I should actually POST now and then.

So to get things started, a few links that I browsed while on vacation:

-- This guy does astonishing things with an Etch-a-Sketch.

-- This guy is my favorite author in the world right now, and his latest book kept me up until 2 in the morning last week.

-- This guy knows the (unfortunately) true secrets of a lot of journalism these days.

-- And these guys just put out a really good record. Go buy it. (And they're playing Ovens on Wednesday!)

One more thing: I'm still looking for folks who were students or teachers in Charlotte when Dorothy Counts and other black students integrated the schools here in 1957. Give me a holler at 704-358-5227 or ttomlinson@charlotteobserver.com.

So what's on your mind these days? Comment below. It's good to be back.

Where were you in '57?

OK, a lot of you weren't around in 1957 -- I wasn't either -- but if you were in Charlotte back then, I'd like to talk to you for a story I'm working on. Specifically, I'm trying to find people who were in the school system when Dorothy Counts and other black students integrated Charlotte schools.

If you were a student or worked for the school system, I'd like to hear from you. If you were on the scene the day that Dorothy first came to Harding High, I'd REALLY like to hear from you.

I'm taking some time off and will be out of the office for a few weeks. But if you pop me an e-mail at ttomlinson@charlotteobserver.com, I'll be sure to see it. Or just leave a message at 704-358-5227 and I'll be in touch.

And feel free to add your memories in the comments.

Keyshawn, half off

Noticed this, via the DC Sports Bog: you can get a Keyshawn Johnson Panthers' jersey for pretty much half-price.

Which makes sense, because the Panthers bought their own discount version of Keyshawn in the draft.

That leads me to wonder: What else would you take the plunge on if the price was right? Would you buy Bobcats tickets if good seats were $30? Would you try the porterhouse at Morton's for $9.95? Would you support light rail if it cost only $300 million?

How much would you pay? And for what? Add your eBay fantasies below.

Imus: crazy like a fox?

Let's play pretend for a minute.

Pretend you're a 66-year-old shock jock whose ratings have tanked in the past couple of years, who is ranked as only the 14th-most-important radio talker, and who hasn't generated any national buzz in, well, forever.

Pretend that your zeppelin-sized ego can't take not being noticed.

Pretend you're so rich that getting suspended for a couple of weeks won't put a dent in your bank account.

Wouldn't you think it might be savvy to spout off something racist and stupid, hoping you would start a national firestorm, get your name back in the news, and have millions of listeners tuning in to see what fool thing you might say next?

Let's put it this way: Two weeks ago, were you even sure Don Imus was still alive?

We're all sure now.

I'm not saying he thought all this out in advance. I'm just saying he's not exactly broken up at how it's turning out.

So what do YOU think would be the proper punishment? If any? Let your imagination run wild below.

A day at the opera

On Saturday we went all highbrow and took in the live broadcast of the Metropolitan Opera at the Regal Stonecrest movie theater. That day's offering was "The Barber of Seville," which was perfect for me -- I already knew the music from one of the greatest short films in history.

As a guy who watches way too much sports (especially during the NCAA tournament), I could not recommend the opera more highly. It's ESPN Classic with violins.

The opera itself is the musical version of the NBA slam dunk contest. One insanely talented star takes a solo, then there's some shuffling around, then another insanely talented star tries to top it. The plot is just there to mark time between the solos. I kept expecting the screen to show judges' scores after every aria -- "Well, the soprano gets a 9.5 for expression, but only an 8 for technical skill..."

They even do the intermission like a halftime show -- previews of upcoming shows, backstage interviews with the stars. (The opera is set in Spain, sung in Italian, and the guy who played Figaro was from Sweden. It's a small world.)

But my main overall impression was this: Outsized characters, big conflicts, tight-fitting costumes and lots of yelling.

Now it all makes sense.

Opera is the high-class version of professional wrestling.

Too bad Ric Flair can't sing. Then again, I doubt Pavarotti could get out of the figure-four leglock.

One last thing: I counted at least seven times when cell phones went off in the theater. If we'd actually been at the Met, I suspect ushers would have calmly removed the offenders from the audience and quietly thrown them down the back stairs.

But can that many people be that forgetful? And if you're not a doctor, or if your daughter is not on a date at that very moment with a member of a biker gang, is there any reason to keep your cell phone on in the theater? I had no idea there were so many important people in this town.