The Ninja Church

One of the most under-appreciated characters in storytelling lore is the generic henchman. Where would villains, super-villains and the criminally inane be without a devoted army of nameless fighters willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater cause, which often includes dominating and/or destroying the world? Perhaps the better question is, where do I go to sign up? Well, I'll tell you...

One tale that I neglected to mention from last week's Eugene adventure was what occurred upon my arrival to town. My good buddy and former roommate Sam, seen here reading The Book of Mormon while drinking a beaker of beer...

...told me that his buddies were having a party that we've gotta swing by. It'd been a while since I'd been to a good ol' fashioned college kegger, so I said I was in.

Upon arrival at the designated address, we found ourselves standing before the House of God. That's right, the raging beer bash was being held in a church.

Now, I've been to a church or two in my days. Granted, I'm no Peter, Paul and/or Mary, but let's just say that I've partied with a Bish or two. That being said, I did not expect to find a raging party in this locale.

Sure enough, there was a fresh keg filled with some fine oak soda.

While it may have been spiked with some sort of mind-altering holy water, I decided to give it a go. Hey, I was on vacation. So after grabbing my mug of Jesus Juice, I was ready for anything. However, as we entered the main part of the church, my mind was blown away. I've been to every kind of party... keggers, beer-busts, hootinanys, shindigs, pants parties, no-pants parties... you name it, but nothing had prepared me for this. Take a moment to picture the most random and ridiculous thing you could walk in on. Got it picked out? Ok, now get ready to have your mind blown.

That's right... It was like a scene out of one of the ridiculous 70's Bond movies, where a mad Christopher Walken opens a door to a room full of... ninjas in training. No music, no dance floor, no hoochies, just two dudes, one with nunchucks, the other with a staff. I don't know who's training these guys, or for what evil purpose, but I guzzled down a few beers and said let's do this. Hey, I was on vacation.

I soon learned that the mom of one of these jokers owned the property and, after the church went bankrupt, let them move in. We didn't stay long, as it wasn't quite the Friday night fare that I was seeking, plus the nunchucks were rapidly covering my body with dark bruises.

The adventure continued from there, as documented in the earlier post. However, my mind still wonders what kind of evil plot I had wandered into and how close I came to becoming a skilled minion for some evil genius.

Hey, only in Eugene.

The Red Carpet

If there's one thing people love in this industry, it's death and/or destruction. But if there were to be two things, the other would be famous people. For some reason, it just seems cool to see someone in person that you've been watching on TV (except for reporters, they aren't that cool). Fame is a strange thing, and it brings with it strange people.

Last night was my first experience working the dreaded Red Carpet, also known as one big clusterf*** where everyone is trying to get everyone else's attention. Fun times.

It was the Second Annual California Hall of Fame awards, where famous California natives are appreciated in a museum in downtown Sacramento. Working something like this can be a double-edged sword. It's cool to interview famous people, but it sucks when autograph hounds are knocking your camera around throughout the entire interview. "Hey man, back off. We're media, damnit".

Despite the moron gawkers and the sore back from standing around all night, we had a good time rubbing shoulders with people that are better than me and you. The event was being put on by Maria Shriver, who attended with her goodly husband Arnold and their lovely daughter.

Many persons of note, both dead and non-dead, were recognized this evening, including John Wayne, Willie Mays, John Steinbeck, Elizabeth Taylor, and the ever-popular Tiger Woods.

Also swinging by our setup was former California governor Gray Davis, although it was unclear as to whether or not he was crashing the party. With his appearance, I think he was looking to say "Oh, that old recall thing? No biggie. I was ready for a vacation anyway, we don't even think about it anymore." What a guy.

Hanging on the Red Carpet, or the "RC", as we call it in the biz (probably), was an interesting adventure, but in the long run it makes me happy that I don't live in LA, where this crap would be a daily chore and the fans are much more rabid. However, it beats Eugene, where we'd only every once in a while get someone famous passing through...

...and even then, it wasn't all that cool.

Civil War Bonanza

Over the weekend, I decided to sacrifice my remaining holiday time to the gods of the Civil War, the Oregon-Oregon State football showdown. I grabbed my camera, hit the road and, upon arrival, rallied the troops for some good ol' fashioned adventuring.

As a bonus, I was able to continue my wildly popular photographic series, Giving Rival Pac-10 Mascots a Thumbs-Down:

Only 5 more to go. Watch out, lame Stanford Christmas tree, I'm coming for ya!

Despite a tough Oregon loss in double overtime, it was a damn good game given the number of injured star players, and we weren't about to let a loss get us down, so after the game we hit the town like we did in the good ol' days.

This journey is part three in my adventure series (check out parts one and two if you haven't already), Oregon's Civil War Bonanza!

Partyin' with the Bish

Generally, I try to go into shooting a story with some sort of background info on it. However, there are always times when you show up and realize that you have no idea what's going on.

On Sunday, I was handed a "special assignment", to shoot a service for some religious group as a part of our recurring "Our Culture" series, which presents short documentary-style pieces on local cultures. I was told what to shoot, what not to shoot, etc., but for some reason it didn't occur to me to ask what exactly it is.

As I drove the 90 minutes to get to the service, I figured that I'd be able to figure it out pretty quickly once I got there. After a 3 hour church service and an additional 3 hour banquet, I had no idea what I'd just covered.

It wasn't weird or anything, it was just in another language the entire time, and if you thought church was boring to begin with, try sitting through it when you have no clue what's being said.

Turns out it was an Assyrian church. Lovely service, excellent food, friendly people (or at least I assumed, as they kept speaking to me in their language, though they were smiling as they did).

As I was shooting the banquet portion of the story, a guy came over to me and said that the Bishop has personally requested that I join them for their meal. As I ate with the Bish's personal bodyguards, it was explained to me that he's a famed bishop visiting from Australia, which is a great honor for them all. I didn't ask too many more questions, as I didn't want them to realize that I didn't even know who they were, but apparently the guy that I've been shooting all day is somebody important. Throughout the service, all I could think of was that he looks exactly like Artie, the hard-headed chef that pushes his luck with Tony on The Sopranos:

Uncanny.

It was certainly an interesting way to spend a Sunday afternoon. After I returned, my sources (Wikipedia) filled me in on the religion and what I had just taken part in. As people clamored over the Bish, I figured that must be how old folks feel when they see people screaming about Lindsay Lohan, but they have no idea who she is.

My thanks to the Bish for a lovely meal and an enlightening experience.

News Happens

It's tough to plan your day around News, because News isn't always willing to work with your schedule. Today, for example, looked to be a simple one. The only thing I needed to get in the afternoon was a quick vo/sot on a toy donation drive. Heck, I could do that with my eyes closed. Given my light day, I figured I'd knock this story out and hit up a local eatery that provided sports entertainment, and take a leisurely lunch hour while watching my Oregon Ducks wail on UCLA. And we all know how I feel about UCLA...

Thumbs down, indeed.

So, right around the time of kickoff, I head off to complete my one task standing between me and joy. However, on the way to the toy drive, News came creeping into my perfectly crafted scheme of a schedule. I heard that dreaded Nextel chirp, followed by our assignment editor explaining that there was a "big rig truck fully engulfed in flames," and that "they say it'll explode at any minute!!" OK News, I don't like you and you don't like me, so let's squeeze this out and get back on track.

The big rig wasn't hard to find. Below a cloud of black smoke and amidst clods of traffic sat the charred remains of a once mighty vessel.

A closer inspection revealed that the truck was carrying onions, broccoli and various other unstable vegetables that could blow at any moment.

Ok, great. News threw me a cool looking accident. Got it, now let's get back on track, I got a game to catch. Oh, but the fire hoses are blocking the road back onto the freeway. C'mon News, give me a break!

So after wandering around and taking various pictures to pass the time, the hoses were removed and I was back on track, right into all the morons that had to slow down to see the accident, causing a major traffic jam.

Following a tediously slow crawl along I-80, I reached the mall, only to be reminded that it's the biggest shopping weekend of the year. So much so, that they had people directing traffic through the parking lot. Sonofabitch.

After checking in with mall security, I was provided with my own personal escort, Harold.

This nimble young man led me to the toy store that was my destination, but that's not all! With Harold, you get the full mall tour along the way. "That's Cathy, her husband is sick so she's not here very often. Nice lady," or "This stand sells pillows with funny things written on them. Look at that one... you like the USC sports team?" No Harold, I don't.

I finally arrive at my CHP Toys for Tots table, crank out the story, and head back across the mall, battling hoards of commoners who are too cheap to shop at any other time of the season.

After knocking down some old ladies and kicking some babies, I scraped my way through the exit door and headed back to town. Only problem? The freeway is now completely backed up, as gawkers continue to gawk at the big rig from earlier. C'mon people, I'm running out of time!!

With three minutes to go in the game, I finally make it to the neighborhood watering hole, where I discover that my boys ain't doin' too good. Like, 16-0 not too good.

After a brief lunch and a deep conversation about the decline of Oregon's ranking with Dick and Jerry, my new pals...

...I headed back to the station. You beat me today, News, and you've made a powerful enemy.

However, the thing about News is that some days it'll give you something awesome, other's it'll beat you down. But News realizes this, and makes up for it in the long run. For you see, News balances the world with both good and evil. Today, it made me miss my game (and probably made the Ducks lose), but it realized this and, upon my return to work, I was offered a consolation prize.

Women's volleyball championship. You just can't argue with that.

Alright News, until next time...

Bad Form

People don't watch TV to be informed. If they did, we'd have a much better society. No, they watch to be entertained! At least that seems to be the philosophy of one local reporter, who took a bad joke one step too far. And then a few more steps. Before he knew it, he was in the middle of a homeless encampment, upsetting thousands of viewers as they watched it on live TV. Before we go to the video, here's a quick recap...

Around the Sacramento area, the homeless are fined for residing anywhere other than at local shelters. However, on a vacant lot near the rail yards, a homeless camp known as "Tent City" arose, and everyone just kinda turned their backs to it. That is, until the railroad company decided they didn't want these folk around, so the police came in and told everyone they had to vacate the area or risk being fined.

I spent my day wandering through Tent City, chatting with folks about their situations. Nobody had anywhere else to go, but they couldn't afford to pay fines, so they had to pick up and wander until they found a new place. Sad story, prime tear-jerker material for the evening news. Then, someone opened up a plot of land to them in a nearby city, allowing them to stay until the shelters opened up.

That brings us to our video. I'll let the rest speak for itself-

Good, quality journalisming.

As I watched this, I was reminded of a similar, though much less offensive, situation from my early days. It was one of those "He's not going to do it... Is he really going to do it?... Oh god, he's doing it" moments. At the county fair, there was a "Dock Dogs" competition, which was basically a long-jump contest for dogs. Fun stuff. Here's how the new guy decided to cover it-

During the live shot, I wondered if maybe I should just shut off the camera. I figured it'd probably do less damage than letting it continue. Alas, I didn't, and it just kept going. That's what I call news!

Now if I could just find someone to bring me McDonald's and a half-rack of bud. Happy Thanksgiving!

The Book of Jesus Chucko

It's been a fairly slow week at work, despite being in the midst of November sweeps. Also I seem to have contracted a sickness, probably from fellow newsies who already burned all their sick time. Between coughing fits, I've been going through some old pictures, and found a fun story that I felt you should know about.

Many of you have been previously introduced to Chucko, the drunken alter-ego of my former college roommate. His sick and twisted creativity never failed to astound me, especially in this case. Thus I present to you...

The Book of Jesus Chucko

It was my junior year of college at the University of Oregon. The time was early November, and a college chum had access to a cabin up near Mt. Hood, which we frequented at least once a year. In this particular episode, it was our pal's 21st birthday.

Kegs were drained...

Lawn chairs were used as fuel...

And a good time was had by all...

It wasn't until the last day, early in the cold morning, that things really got interesting. Chucko, having disappeared for some time, re-emerged dressed in a strange costume. What could he possibly be up to, we wondered. After following him down to the river, he explained his diabolical scheme.

It was simple, yet complex beyond comprehension. Could his fiendish plot actually work? Was he really going to try it? Is there still film left in my camera? We were ready to find out, as he declared, "I brought along a Jesus costume, to see if I can walk across the river".

Despite the frigid morning temperature, the patches of snow on the ground and the frightfully cold water, Chucko put his plan into action. He was ready to discover whether or not his holy costume would provide the divine powers that he had hoped for. In he went...

Indeed, the experiment had failed. The $25 left-over Halloween costume was unable to grant Chucko his desired powers. While none of us had expected it to work, deep down we were all just a little disappointed with the result. Still, makes for a good story.