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Jerry Falwell of Praise The Lord Ministries plunges down a waterslide at now-defunct Heritage USA, a Christian theme park in Fort Mill, S.C. (1987)
In 1999, the Associated Press selected this photo as one of the top 100 national photos of the century.
A mother bear and three cubs walk across the Blue Ridge Parkway. Hugh Morton, North Carolina, 1967.
“Those are people who died, dieeeed.” - Jim Carroll
“Kobe Bryant has stated that had he decided to go to college after high school, he would have attended Duke University.” - Wikipedia
On 6.11.96, the 17-year-old Bryant was drafted by the Charlotte Hornets, who promptly traded him to the Lakers. Local lore maintains that Kobe implicitly “refused” to play in a small media market.
Apparently, this wasn’t necessarily the case. - Winston-Salem Journal, June 2008.
In retrospect, I’d say I feel cheated, but he’s kind of a prick.
Doesn’t make these kicks any less fly, though.
A couple years ago, I worked a job where I traveled the country with a group of twentysomethings, conducting marketing events for the client. We shared hotels and got drunk and spent too much time in cars together and alternately extolled and excoriated each other’s virtues.
We ate lots of meals together, mostly Hampton Inn breakfast in the morning. Two of our three female co-workers were hefty. To be exact, these two lasses balanced precariously on that slippery slope between “healthy girl” and “double-chin obese.” To be more precise, either one of them was just a few Belgian waffles away from staring two bills in the face.
It’s nice to eat a breakfast with a girl who doesn’t pick at her food like a fastidious little rabbit. Bacon is amazing and sausage links are good for sopping up a hangover and all that. But you just know better. And to watch these two shovel food to the gullet everyday became appalling.
At some point, the guys and I put in money on which of these two would gain the most weight over the course of the gig. This was all speculative conjecture. ”Did you see Eliza* put down those pancakes this morning? The way she’s going, she’ll top three cents easy.”
We began to play the over/under. “Hey, Jill*, I really can’t eat this doughnut. Stomach’s bugging me. You oughta have it.” After a few days of fattening the turkeys, you just realize that short of a strapping on a feedbag, the results will skew less than objective.
Still, to this day, I wish we’d had a way of measuring. I know it’s wrong, but I really want to know the winner.
