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Columns

  • You can put the race card away; they just need to see your photo ID

    Having recently celebrated my 30th birthday, I love it when someone asks to see my ID to prove I am, in fact, older than 21 years old.

    I love it when a store clerk asks to see my ID when I use my credit card. They don’t do it at all stores, but I’d like to think my transactions are somewhat safer at places where they check to see I am who I purport to be.

    I don’t particularly like the photo on my ID, which I spent a good portion of my aforementioned birthday in a local DMV to receive, but I don’t complain when someone asks to see it.

  • The constant bemoaning of never-ending road construction

    Ahh, my endless tirade…

    Since the construction on Smith Avenue and Main Street doesn’t seem it’s ever going to end, why should complaining about it?

  • Fake letter incites honchos at Carolina Shores Town Hall

    The letter looks fishy from the get-go, to anyone older than 5 who knows how to read, write, spell and use grammar real good.

    “The Town of Carolina Shores have received numerious complaints regarding a red Toyota Truck being operated in a reckless manor throughout the neighborhood,” reads the missive recently mailed to the home of local residents Bill and Louise McGarva.

    There’s nothing worse than an illicit truck in a reckless manor.

    “A) Speed to fast for road conditions

  • Affiliations don’t define who people are or all of their beliefs

    I’ve been in newspapers since 1998, and I’ve learned a lot of lessons.

    The one thing consistent wherever I go is people have lots of opinions and they want to share them—whether you want to hear them or not.

    Once people get accustomed to seeing a person’s photo and name in newsprint, they assume that person is a perfectly good target for all things tossed at them.

  • Oh, Johnny. Federal indictment befalls yet another N.C. politico

    Say it ain’t so, Joe.

    Oops, wrong political reference.

    You’ll have to forgive me. I appear to be in the midst of a political déjà vu, and I seem to be slightly confused by Sarah Palin’s bus to nowhere streaming in and out of consciousness.

    I may have even written this column before. Yes, I definitely have—several times, in fact.

    Only, each time it is a different politician who stars as our tortured protagonist.

  • A little eccentricity from a gal who stares at words way too long

    Journalists, quite honestly, can be an eccentric bunch. A mix of varying ideologies and interests, things that get journalists excited and deep into debate can range from anything from who has the potential to be the most corrupt official in the community to what happens when cats mate.

  • Hurricane season barreling down upon us once again

    Can you believe 2011 is almost halfway through?

    Can you believe hurricane season has officially begun?

    That’s how it goes.

    Just when we’re finally out of the woods of a long, somewhat coldish winter (forcing some of us weather-wimps to don socks and jackets and baby-striped knit caps), we enter into warm-weather season. It always brings its “four H’s” downside—heat, humidity, hurricanes, and horrible summer TV.

  • A quick thanks to the two men with the worst imaginable jobs

    Let’s face it: The two people in Brunswick County with the worst jobs are Frank Iler and Bill Rabon. The worst, and it’s not even close.

    I’m serious—the hours, the travel, the pressure—no amount of money could make me want either of their jobs.

    Speaking of money, there’s not much in it, either.

    Being a state legislator doesn’t come with the nearly $200,000-a-year salary that members of Congress receive.

  • Go ahead and disagree, but be more creative than calling me stupid

    You would think most journalists would cringe when a reader sends a scathing letter to the editor.

    You would think most journalists would want to crawl under a desk when someone openly disagrees with a column or story their heart and soul put into creating.

  • Thank you, Brunswick County, for making this a beautiful place to call home

    There’s a fortune from a cookie taped to the edge of my desk in the Beacon newsroom.

    I cant remember how long it’s been there or when I put it there, but it seems appropriately fitting for my next adventure.

    The fortune says, “Take the chance while you still have the choice.” And at the end of this week, that’s exactly what I’ll be doing.