The Future

Have you ever stared the future straight in the eyes and said "Listen here, you son of a gun, there's not room enough in this world for the both of us," and then waited to see what the future said? I have, and let's just say that I'm still here and the future isn't.

David Archuleta Seeks Advice From Sensitive Ned

As you might know, I write an advice column for the Regal Seagull, an online news publication. This week's edition was entirely focused on David Archuleta. Archuleta actually wrote in asking me for advice on how to deal with his heartbreaking loss on American Idol.

Ask Sensitive Ned: Almost a Winner

Dear Sensitive Ned,

Where did I go wrong? How could I have failed? I’m miserable and don’t know what to do. I’m considering running away to Ogden, joining a gang, and becoming an alcoholic. Save me from myself.

David Archuleta


Dave,

You’re pathetic. You disgust me. When Art Garfunkel was fired by Paul Simon and left to fend for himself in this cold, dark world, did he give up hope? No! Well, maybe for a little while, but then about eight years ago I saw this cartoon where all the characters are little mole-looking creatures (not sure exactly what they are, but they look like moles), and they were visited by a wise, wandering troubadour that sounded just like Art, but also looked like a mole, but with an afro. Not that black people look like moles, I’m just saying he had a big round poofy hair-do. I suspect that the traveling sage was actually Art Garfunkel. He even says, “Hi, I’m Art Garfunkel,” which is one of the reasons I’m almost positive it was him. Art didn’t give up.

When Michael Bolton was mocked by millions for decades because of everything about him, did he quit? No! Why the hell not? Nobody knows. Michael, if you’re reading this, PLEASE END THE MISERY! Not yours—ours.

When most of the other Beatles died (probably poisoned by Yoko Ono, including John, but I can’t prove it), did Ringo throw in the towel? No way! He joined up with one of the greatest television shows ever made—Shining Time Station. He was The Conductor, and he helped bring beautiful songs and real toy trains with claymation faces to kids and adults across the country and parts of northern Mexico and southern Canada that were picking up US television waves. But then he was replaced by George Carlin because a judge ordered Carlin to perform one thousand hours of community service for saying the f-word to a whole kindergarten class full of Down’s syndrome kids. But Ringo never quit.

David, you listen to me. Suck it up. Wipe those tears off of your baby-face and look to the future. Life has fed you a mouth-full of New England Patriots pie, and you need to spit it out. Clean your vessel. Purge the pain and drop all that crazy talk about going to Ogden to end your life. Though you have lost the battle, you can still win this harsh war called life. Now get back on your prancing pony and ride.

I hope that got you pumped,

Sensitive Ned

* If you are starving for advice, attention, food and water, or underage you-know-what, feel free to write to Sensitive Ned at SensitveNed@RegalSeagull.com. He reads everything anyone sends him, even stuff in other languages (he’s VERY smart). If he deems your question worthy of an answer, he’ll reply with wisdom and knowledge beyond his years (he’s 12). If not, it was probably a very stupid question.

Dances With Wolves, the Extended Version

How awesome is the extended version of Dances With Wolves? People don't give it the recognition it deserves, and that is totally messed up big time. Why do we feel the need to tear down Shumani Tutonka Owashee? Why is it that when we are at the video store trying to figure out what to rent and I suggest the extended version of Dances With Wolves, everyone makes that look that you get when you take a big swig out of the milk jug only to discover it is old and chunky and long-expired? Some people even have the ignorant gall to comment "The regular-length version is bad enough."

I am here to knock some sense into humanity. DWW-TEV offers something to every audience, and I'm about to prove it. Action: the opening Civil War scene where the North and South are at the battle field, and John Dunbar is about to get his leg amputated. Violence: The Sioux fill that fat guide with arrows and eat his pickled eggs. Comedy: "Somebody poked me in the butt--was that you?" Romance: "I go where you go, John Dunbar." Drama: The part of the buffalo hunt where the Sioux come up over the hill and see a field full of dead, skinned buffalo. Sex: John Dunbar is sleeping in the Chief's tent and wakes up in the middle of the night to see Chief and Squaw gettin' jiggy wid it.

If the proof is in the pudding, then this blog is a six-pack of Jell-O Snack Packs. And as if the plot, script, and cinematography didn't seal the deal, recall the amazingly inspirational soundtrack. I listen to that John Williams masterpiece before playing basketball and then I go out on the court and play ball like I live my life: I pretend that I'm John Dunbar and I'm riding that beautiful horse Cisco around the Great Plains saving Indian tribes from the white man, from other bad Indian tribes, and from buffalo gone crazy with Mad Buffalo Disease.

The world needs more Dances With Wolves, the Extended Versions. Personally, I am anxiously awaiting extended versions of The Princess Bride and Mr. Mom. They may never come, but if they do, I'll be ready. And if you haven't been totally absorbed in a world of dark hatred and World of Warcraft brainwash, maybe you'll get ready, too.

More Wall Art, Less Wal-Mart

I don't want to hear about anyone getting their panties in a twist because I'm posting another video. I know you come here to read funny stories of all the weird stuff that happens to me, but this next one is truly worth your time. It is a stop-motion video made by some crazy loco coco in Buenos Aires, and I wouldn't post it here if I didn't think it would make you a better person. Or, in Matt Cline's case, a better robot.


MUTO a wall-painted animation by BLU from blu on Vimeo.

Most Inspirational Video on the Web Today

Give me five minutes of your time. These are five minutes that you'll never get back, but they are also five minutes you'll never forget. Generally I don't care too much for extreme sports videos--they're usually full of obnoxious music and mediocre moves. But this is different. It's not only different, it's amazing. Turn your sound up--no, better yet, put on some really sweet-sounding headphones--maximize the screen, and enjoy. You can thank me later.

Winning isn't everything. Sharing is.

What I'm about to tell you is true. No names have been changed to protect nobody. Anybody that went to Utah State Uni-fur-city (I included that because I dream of one day visiting a place called Fur City--I read about it a long time ago in an Orson Scott Card book. Not the really famous one, but some other one he wrote that never got published. Actually, it was a screenplay.) knows that each and every semester without fail, ASUSU sponsors a bingo night where thousands of people fill the ball room on campus and the largest bingo game this side of the Jordan River goes down. Tables are lined up end to end to end to...the point is that when all is said and done, one table is about as long as watching General Conference without falling asleep.

Everyone took their seat at one of the huge tables. We were all lined up staring down at our bingo cards. We looked like Asian women at a Nike sweatshop, focusing on our work in front of us, looking neither right or left. The prizes were serious. An old school Nintendo, a lava lamp, gift cards to local hotspots such as Hastings Video, the USU Bookstore, and Somebody's Attic. Everyone there was in it to win it, especially me.

I haven't won a lot of stuff in my life, but I know several people who have. One time I was sitting next to Jesse at a Warren Miller movie screening, and he won a season pass to Beaver Mountain. One time Andrew Cazier lent Phil a dollar to buy a raffle ticket at the Banff Film Festival, and Phil won the grand prize--an old-style beach cruiser with new school flare and pizazz. Another time Phil was sitting right next to me when his number was called to win a brand new pair of fancy twin-tip skis. Once I got in a car wreck with a guy that had just won the lottery. He got out of his vehicle and said, "You know what, don't worry about it. In fact, you can just keep my car." I didn't. I actually fled the scene because I was driving an unlicensed, unregistered car. I was outta there.

So when I win something, I get excited. I was sitting at the far end of one of the longest tables, seemingly miles away from the emcee that was calling the numbers. "B-11. G-42." Come on, baby, just one more. "N-30." Yes! I slammed my crayola crayon down on the table and yelled, "BINGO!" The victory music came on (I think it was Cher's Do You Believe In Life After Love) and I jumped up onto my chair, then onto the table. Instead of running down the aisle The Price Is Right style, I ran along the entire table top, kicking crayons and losing bingo cards out of the way. One girl yelled, "Hey, you broke my phone!" I ignored her because how dare somebody try to ruin my moment. I got to the end of table and in one perfect gazelle-like leap I jumped over the kid in the wheelchair that was sitting at the head of the table, and landed gracefully on the stage. People were cheering. Some were booing, I'm not sure if it was because they wanted to win, or because I accidentally barely nicked that wheelchair kid in the head with my foot when I jumped over him and there was a tiny itsy bitsy bit of blood by his eye now. Man, what is up with people trying to steal happy moments from someone that just won? Some folks are so selfish.

I was caught up in the moment. I was filled with energy and adrenaline. I grabbed the microphone from the emcee and said, "I just want to thank everybody for supporting me. I love you all. When this is all over tonight, I'm taking everyone that's interested to KFC!" The crowd erupted. I was a hero. I then got the entire audience to start chanting, "KFC, KFC, KFC." For that moment, I was loved by everyone. Even the cell phone girl and the wheelchair kid were on their feet (I know, it was a milagro de Jesus) chanting and cheering and crying.

I don't remember much of what happened right after that. I eventually claimed my carwash kit prize (2 sponges, 3 different kinds of Armor-all, and a few of those smelly cardboard trees that you hang from your rearview mirror, or if you're really desperate for scent, you stick them in your heater vents) and exited the stage. Later that night some friends and I really did go to KFC, we got there right before closing time. I ordered a bag full of Chicken Snackers and gave them out to the three other people I was with. Right as we were about to get into the car to leave, another vehicle pulled up to us. "Hey, you're the KFC guy. Did you mean what you said earlier," the boy in the passenger seat asked. "You bet I did," I responded. I then pulled the last two Chicken Snackers in all of Logan out of the bag and handed one each to the couple in the car. That's when I recognized them--it was the cell phone girl and the wheelchair kid. Together. A warm feeling washed over me and I felt a tear in my eye. "Thanks man," said the boy as they slowly pulled away. "No, thank you," I thought to myself. "Thank you." And that's when I realized that winning isn't everything. Sharing is.