tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55421239053821490462024-02-22T09:17:05.903-08:00Paul Rugg's FroynlavenPaul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.comBlogger208125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-4213303966975381462018-11-19T12:48:00.001-08:002018-11-19T12:48:23.738-08:00Chester Phelph's Important New Video!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-53521824629690706052017-10-02T15:27:00.001-07:002017-10-02T15:27:22.530-07:00Who Knew This Was Going To Be A Thing?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-90354705509831609182017-07-14T09:34:00.000-07:002017-07-14T09:34:38.984-07:00Paul Rugg's Voiceover Pamphlet Is READY!!!! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-32222171625544143822014-06-24T10:36:00.001-07:002014-06-24T11:35:57.006-07:00HANGIN' WITH THE D!Spent a rather insane couple of hours at the offices of Variety to participate in an interview with some of the amazing voice talent on the 7D. To say these gents are some of the best of the best would be an understatement. Yet, I love understatements! I also love Triscuits. But that's a whole other post.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOWwuqYlmcuGULQ9zUIOBGcNl2GwupMXtEZcCpbLmzc35batJt7wZtAmtFz8pf1TBp5IB1XTXnlNcEZb_rXQiMkwuBR1xTgEcOHS_d3Q1izCDq5vxZJ-mqgt6I68uH30PCwCD8IBq00T7O/s1600/IMG_1575.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOWwuqYlmcuGULQ9zUIOBGcNl2GwupMXtEZcCpbLmzc35batJt7wZtAmtFz8pf1TBp5IB1XTXnlNcEZb_rXQiMkwuBR1xTgEcOHS_d3Q1izCDq5vxZJ-mqgt6I68uH30PCwCD8IBq00T7O/s1600/IMG_1575.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Left to Right: Maurice Lamarche (Grumpy), Bill Farmer (Doc), Kevin Michael Richardson (Happy), Scott Menville (Sneezy), Kelly Ward (Voice Director), Me (Lord Starchbottom), Stephen Stanton (Sleepy), Billy West (Bashful)<br />
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On the drive to the interview I spotted this shoe car in Santa Monica. This isn't important per se, but I think if someone went through all the trouble of making a shoe car, the very least I could do is mention it here. Well done, shoe car maker! This is the best shoe car I have ever seen. It's also the only shoe car I have ever seen so I really have nothing to judge it by. But, if I ever do see another shoe car I'll let you know how yours compares.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicdgnX8q9Eqb60p9xCcFRCP9VuNxMemCJ11PDKsXxMr9xaDwiQTfvKlPys1DYBZxpuHLQZ_3WVtlzmP2lzDKuiXTrSD-skKiI5S4uVtcNUtHTUwZdghIPsSUizZXKtLDNaqUzFv0zusZ7M/s1600/IMG_1570.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicdgnX8q9Eqb60p9xCcFRCP9VuNxMemCJ11PDKsXxMr9xaDwiQTfvKlPys1DYBZxpuHLQZ_3WVtlzmP2lzDKuiXTrSD-skKiI5S4uVtcNUtHTUwZdghIPsSUizZXKtLDNaqUzFv0zusZ7M/s1600/IMG_1570.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shoe Car. (Not Pictured - Maurice Lamarche, Bill Farmer, Kevin Michael Richardson, Scott Menville, Kelly Ward, Me, Stephen Stanton, Billy West.)</td></tr>
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<span style="color: red;"><i>UPDATE: I have been informed by Doug Langdale that there is a Shoe Car in Burbank. I will attempt to photograph this other shoe car and determine if this Santa Monica shoe car is better or worse. I want to thank Doug Langdale for sharing this information.</i></span>Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-72765464547415544282013-07-09T08:46:00.001-07:002013-07-09T08:53:25.265-07:00STUFFSo, here I am, sitting on the train on my way to Los Angeles from our new home in a sleepy little beach community about 40 miles north of the city. It Really is sleepy, too. For a while I thought there were lots of homeless people there...but it turns out the sea breeze just makes you sleepy. I have struggled to stay awake just walking to my car. I have fallen asleep in the checkout line at the market. I have dozed mightily watering the plants. I am not quite sure how anyone gets anything done in our town, but I have noticed most everyone carries around a large can of Red Bull. The priest at our new parish takes huge swigs of the stuff between words during his homily. The crime rate here is incredibly low, too. We have a lot of criminals, but they nod off when they're being chased by police officers who wear special breathing masks that provide a continuous supply of non-beach city air. Half of our home is still under construction and has been for 43 years. The carpenters can only manage to drive one nail an hour.<br />
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By the way, a bear just tried to attack our train.<br />
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Anyway, I'm sure I'll eventually adapt to the slower pace of our new town. Okay...now the bear is running toward the back of the train. We slowed down a little and he almost got on and then the conductor went a little faster and the bear missed. Everyone is laughing. I guess they do this a lot. Okay, I just checked with the person sitting next to me. He tells me it's called bear-baiting. We just slowed down again and just as the bear almost climbed on the back we sped up again. Everyone is laughing again. I don't know. I think it's kind of mean. Oh we'll, I guess what Marvin Hamlish said was right; 'We're all different."<br />
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Not that you asked, but I've come to the conclusion that moving stinks. We Ruggs tend to stay in one place for a long while. So moving 20 years of stuff hasn't been very pleasurable. It's been icky. The last time I moved I was young and stupid. I did what all young, stupid people do when they move...get their friends to help. Now, 20 years older, I never got the memo that people my age hire people to move. It never occurred to me that people will actually put all your stuff in a truck and drive it to the new place, unpack it and then leave. I only realized this as I drove the UHaul truck back to the rental place after a day of lugging heavy furniture up endless flights of stairs with my saintly brother-in-law. I have promised myself that if we ever move again, I'm going all out. I'm going to hire the most expensive movers I can find and sip wine with friends as they go about moving everything. Wait a second...looks like the train slowed down a little too much. Great. Now there's a bear on board.Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-60670754636437569772013-02-06T13:18:00.000-08:002013-02-06T13:19:20.947-08:00Because Laura Said ToI know. I've been grossly negligent in staying true to my blogging duties. I've let work...a pilot in development...various writing assigments and other things get in the way of keeping this inestimable blog up to date. And so it would have continued...<br />
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...had Laura not bravely emailed to say that enough is enough. She called me to task...pleasantly enough, mind you...and told me it was time get back to the important mission of filling this blog with clever words.<br />
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Thank you, Laura. I needed that.<br />
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However, after a few months off, I'm a little rusty at being clever. So, while I brush up and figure out what to blog about, I'd like to leave you all with this:<br />
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A man wrestling a bear for no reason.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Ehw5YH9wEDY" width="420"></iframe>Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-77087534029108834192012-12-07T13:31:00.001-08:002012-12-07T13:31:24.374-08:00Chester Phelph's Exciting SpecialHope everyone can join Chester for his first ever television special on Froynlaven!<br />
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Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-74577769951983826002012-09-04T09:59:00.002-07:002012-09-04T09:59:31.949-07:00Praise For Paul Rugg's Book AnnouncementWell....wow. Just wow. I can't tell everyone how humbled and...another word for humbled...and yet another, different word for humbled but with a slightly different meaning...I am. (I'm sorry, but the thesaurus on my computer isn't working. So, you'll have to bare with me. Or bear with me. Sorry but the spell check thingy and the grammar gizmo is also busted.)<br />
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Anyway...<br />
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Ever since I annoonced that my book on Writing Animation is in the works, I've been ininundilatedated with emails from people who are excited and...another word for excited...and yet another, different word for excited but with a slightly different meaning. I'm super gravilgakin. Really.<br />
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Leonard Krelms of Baywater wrote: <i> </i><br />
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<i>"Mr. Rugg! I've often hoped and prayed that someone would write a book on writing animation. And now, you are! Now people will know how to do that! I feel your book will be the most important thing to come out this year. You have not paid me to say that. I have never met you. I have the documents to prove it and will repudiate with all force at my disposal anyone who asserts otherwise. They are liars and probably jealous. Can't wait!"</i><br />
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Thanks, Leonard! I can also say that I never heard of you before I received your email and can back up that claim with various documents and affidavits. Nor have I exchange any goods or services to solicit...another word for solicit...and yet another, different word for solicit but with a stronger meaning...a fake email by you which endorses my book. I further assert and another word for assert and another word for assert that I have no financial interest whatsoever in the Baywater Development Company, and, as of last week, divested all shares in said company...etc. etc. etc...to whit, all monies do me...etc. etc. etc...have been nuanced and applied to various holding companies to which I am sole shareholder. My attorney, Arnold Buxzum, has directed me to assert my rights through these holding companies to legally deny that we ever had any <u>direct</u> contact.<br />
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So, anyway! Keep those emails cooming!Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-18944611580682311652012-08-29T15:58:00.003-07:002012-08-29T21:25:31.399-07:00TV Animation Writing 101 - Intro To Lesson OneThe time has come, dear reader of Froynlaven, for me to pass the baton to a younger generation; a generation that yearns to write in that most noble field of TV Animation. Why they yearn to do that is unknown to me. People's yearnings are very personal. I think Virgil expressed it best when he wrote, "I yearn. You yearn. We all yearn for something." (Interestingly, it was Horace Lombash who, while working in the marketing department of the Des Moines Creamery in 1893, modified Virgil's immutable words to 'I scream. You scream. We all scream for Ice Cream.' Lombash's popular saying helped ice cream sales to skyrocket. By 1894, the Des Moines Creamery was the largest manufacturer of Ice Cream in the Northern Hemisphere. Sadly, in 1895, a rabid beaver attacked the Des Moines plant, leading to the death of most of the creamery's workers. Horace Lombash was spared, but never worked in ice cream again. He disappeared. 10 years later he resurfaced as First Lady of Bolivia.)<br />
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And so, I bid a fond adieu to writing TV Animation. It has been interesting, sometimes fun, and incredibly lucrative. I've been able to purchase three homes, five private jets and a wide array of personal, exotic luxury watercraft. Not to mention a Panda called, Xia Lu, which lives in my sprawling back yard behind an electrified pen. (Pandas are very cute. But I've learned the hard way; DON'T THROW BANANAS AT THEM.)<br />
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And please...fear not. I am not retiring. I am simply shifting my focus to different writing endeavors. I shall hopefully be able to talk about said endeavors some time in November. <br />
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Anyway, I think it's only fair that I at least attempt to teach some of what I know about writing TV Animation to whoever is interested. Lessons will begin tomorrow. I will teach you what I was taught on my first day at Warner Brothers Animation. It's a style of writing TV Animation that I think you'll find interesting. It's also really useful. <br />
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My course is free. Because I am incredibly rich and can afford it.<br />
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Join me tomorrow for Lesson One.Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-33449195834645933782012-08-06T12:37:00.000-07:002012-08-06T12:55:11.240-07:00And THAT'S How You Land A Rover On Mars!!!Forgive me for a moment while I geek out and make a total fool of myself.<br />
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WOOOOO! AHHHHHH! OHHHHHH! BLEEEEEEERK! SNNNNNERBY!!!! WOWWWWW!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A photo taken my the Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter which shows Curiosity hanging from its supersonic parachute as it drops toward the surface of Mars.</td></tr>
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Had you been at the Rugg homestead last night at around 10:31 PM, those are noises you would have heard me make as we watched the newest Mars rover, Curiosity, triumphantly touch down on Mr. Bradbury's wonderfully red planet. (I'm not entirely sure what <i>SNNNNNNERBY</i> means. But it's a good noise. A happy noise.)<br />
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Long-time readers of this inestimable blog are well aware by now that I'm a bit of a fanatic about aviation and space. I am, as my wife informed me, a "Rover Hugger". That's a term she found on the internet that describes people like me who avidly follow the comings and going of those plucky little robots on Mars.<br />
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Had I not been one of St. Viator Elementary School's "worst students of all time" and unable to tie my shoes until I was 17, there's a good chance I would have been a brilliant engineer that made cool Mars rovers. However, as one of St. Viator Elementary School's worst students of all time and unable to tie my shoes until I was 17, there was little I could do except for TV Animation. (On a side note, I recently came across a letter written to my parents by my 8th grade teacher which stated, "<i>We feel Paul will need constant care throughout his adult years. Please plan accordingly. We can recommend a number of wonderful group homes</i>.")<br />
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Anyway...<br />
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Curiosity is safely down on the surface of Mars and the whole thing couldn't have been more exciting. Seriously. If you don't believe me, then please take the next 5 minutes to watch what it had to go through. <br />
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I hope you watched that and didn't just pretend to watch that because it's really cool. And if you did just pretended to watch it, but are now feeling somewhat sheepish and slightly curious, go ahead and watch it now. Go ahead. Don't be shy. We'll all wait.<br />
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Pretty awesome, right? So there we were last night watching all of this live. In the weeks leading up to the landing I had forced my family to watch the above video countless times. (That's the video I asked you to watch and you did. Right? If you didn't. Do it now. There's still time. Seriously. Don't be ashamed. Just do it.) So, having watched the video, we all knew the various things that had to happen as the rover made it's way down. Luckily my family got into it and you would have thought it was the superbowl. When we heard that the parachute had deployed, we clapped. We we heard the heat shield had come off we clapped. When we heard the rockets had fired for powered flight, we cheered. When the sky crane started doing it's thing...I think that's when I made my SNERRRRRBY sound. And when Curiosity said it had arrived, I jumped up and down. Cuz it's cool. And there aren't enough cool things happening today.<br />
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Thanks to the rock star engineers and scientists at JPL for putting some cool back into the world. It needed it.<br />
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Now if you'll excuse me, we're going out and I need my wife to tie my shoes.<br />
<br />Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-50747076216450871442012-07-31T13:26:00.001-07:002012-07-31T17:30:52.734-07:00Thank You, DearAlas, my intention to keep this inestimable blog chock-full of wonderful goodness throughout the summer has flamed-out spectacularly. Work (that which I do for a living and often regret) once again reared it's ugly head and crushed me like a
small thing that is crushed beneath something large. And it hurt. And I
couldn't blog. Throughout it all I carried deep-seated resentments about said work...and longed for the day when steady employment would yield to joys of communicating with you for little or no money.<br />
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And so, with said work now behind me, and little or no work ahead of me, it's time to get down to business and thank my wife, who, on our recent summer vacation to the great Pacific Northwest, spent five hours with me at Seattle's Museum Of Flight. Actually, she didn't really spend it with me per se...she followed me as I gleefully ran from one display to the next. She waited patiently as I gently caressed and whispered sweet nothings to "<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/58/City_of_Everett_01.jpg">The City Everett</a>", the first 747 ever built. She patiently waited as I sprinted over to the<a href="http://u.jimdo.com/www21/o/se80bcf7e1bbfb507/img/i33e63c77fd4394ca/1285426138/std/lockheed-super-constellation.jpg"> Lockheed Super Constellation</a> and gawked at its sleek neato-ness. She then lovingly placed herself on a bench as my daughter and I painstakingly combed through the museum's store for a scale model of a <a href="http://1957timecapsule.files.wordpress.com/2010/10/boeing-stratocruiser.jpg">Boeing Stratocruiser 377</a>. Two hours later, we emerged from the store, victory in hand. Plus a nice Boeing baseball cap. Plus a T-Shirt which says, "If It's Not Boeing, I'm Not Going." Plus a die-cast model of a Lockheed Super Constellation. Plus a keychain. Plus a bunch of other stuff.<br />
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Thank you, dear. I promise to return the favor one day when you really want to go somewhere. As long as it's not boring. Like ballet. Cuz, that's super boring. And no modern dance, either. I hate that stuff. But anything else. I promise. As long as it's not something cultural. I hate that. And don't drag me to the Museum of Fabrics or something like that. Blech. But, anything else. Seriously. I love you. I want to return the favor. AND NO JAPANESE GARDEN CRAP. At all! I WON'T GO. But, anything else. Seriously. I love you. No sculpture exhibits. Got it? Gross. Boring. Hello? Anything else.<br />
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I love you.<br />
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<br />Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-86636178567097575642012-06-04T11:38:00.000-07:002012-06-04T11:56:05.553-07:00R.I.P. Trololo Guy. And Thank You...I have just been informed by a close friend that Eduard Khil, better known as the Trololo Guy passed away this morning. He was 77. I think it's only fitting that we take a moment to remember this man and his work.<br />
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<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/t6FUR_nhGX8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-37834070283061328962012-05-23T18:14:00.003-07:002012-05-23T18:14:49.198-07:00Tomorrow's WeatherScattered patches of sunshine which will turn into other things as the day goes on. Highs should be in the upper portion of the livable range. Lows will generally be the same.Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-88259749372610784002012-05-07T14:05:00.001-07:002012-05-07T14:05:35.539-07:00The Best Thing Ever Done On Froynlaven By Chester PhelphHi, this is Chester. Please watch the following video as many times as possible. They are getting angry with me that not enough of you are watching what I've done. So, here's something you are bound to pass along and get viral.<br />
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Thanks. Chester A. Phelph.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ivLsGI9aCSI" width="420"></iframe>Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-50284030724075611562012-05-04T11:28:00.000-07:002012-05-04T11:28:31.234-07:00Chester's First Blog And Art Project<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/FzypIa0HafY" width="560"></iframe><br />
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<br />Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-68661790526695387122012-05-04T10:14:00.001-07:002012-05-04T10:14:11.459-07:00Chester A. Phelph's First Blog Is Minutes Away!Hi. So, my blog is coming sooper soon. Like in an hour. Until then, check out the silly pictures of kitties in stuff which I have added captions to.<br />
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Chester A. PhelphPaul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-43358363172134198732012-04-30T16:51:00.003-07:002019-02-07T18:06:10.513-08:00Pitching Animated Shows<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Whenever I speak at universities or car factories, the same question is invariably asked of me: "How do you get a network to buy an idea for an animated series?"<br />
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I always answer this question differently and try make it as confusing as possible.<br />
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You see, the television animation business is a crowded place. And I'll do anything I can to get a leg up on the competition. The last thing I want is some snot-nosed, animation school graduate to muscle in on my turf with his or her fresh ideas and newfangled characters. I have a family to feed. I have a dog missing a foot. While this isn't expensive now, it could be. The government might pass a law requiring me to make my dog "whole" by giving him a new foot. That probably won't be cheap. And I have to be ready. There's probably a lot of blood work and grafting and gross stuff. Gross stuff costs a pretty peeny. (You probably think I made a mistake there and meant to write 'penny'. I didn't. A peeny is a new form of currency my neighbor is developing. I've seen it and it's real.)<br />
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So, yeah. I say a lot of confusing stuff to throw potential animation writers off the trail.<br />
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But I'll tell you Froynlaven readers the truth. After all, some of you are paying close to 100 dollars a month to subscribe to this blog, so I think I owe it to you. (If you are not currently paying close to 100 dollars a month to subscribe to this blog, would you take a moment to consider it? Please? I already told you about my dog, right? What if I threw in a tote bag?)<br />
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So here's the straight scoop: networks buy ideas that are good. The gooder the better. Sometimes they buy mediocre ideas in the hope of making them good. And a lot of times they buy good ideas and make them mediocre. But generally they are looking for a good idea. That's the secret. And now you know. Good ideas. That's what the networks want.<br />
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And it just so happens I have five good ideas that I'm toying with right now. These are really good. Pitch season is coming up and I'm really trying to narrow any of these five good ideas down to the one good idea I'm going to pitch. I thought maybe...maybe you all wouldn't mind giving them a read and letting me know which you think is the goodest of the best. I know I'm taking a bit of a risk by putting my best stuff out there. But, I trust you all. You're paying 100 bucks a month. Why wouldn't I trust you.<br />
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So, okay. Here are the five ideas. Just lemme know which one is your favorite. Okay? Thanks. (Some of these I have titles for. Some I don't.)<br />
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1. Untitled Horse Project. There are these horses and they talk and junk. And there's one horse who is sarcastic. And sometimes he gets in over his head and junk happens.<br />
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2. Untitled Bee Project. There are these bees and they all talk and junk. And there's one bee who is sarcastic. And sometimes he gets in over his head and junk happens.<br />
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3. Possum Boy. There are these possums and they all talk and junk. And there's one possum (Possum Boy) who is sarcastic. And sometimes he gets in over his head and junk happens.<br />
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4. Mighty Diatoms. There are these diatoms and they all talk and junk. And there's one diatom who is sarcastic. And sometimes he gets in over his head and junk happens.<br />
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5. Untitled Project. I haven't figured this one out entirely.<br />
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Please don't steal any of these! But let me know your favorite.<br />
<br />Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-27574667746975139892012-04-17T12:58:00.000-07:002012-04-17T12:58:10.964-07:00Lazy Paul Rugg Ousted At FroynlavenLos Angeles - In yet another stunning shakeup at Froynlaven, Wendy Thomasina-Shmenz, President of Shmenz Communications Inc., the parent company of Froynlaven, has announced the firing of Lazy Paul Rugg as the blog's Editor-In-Chief.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wendy Thomasina-Shmentz</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Thomasina-Shmenz's announcement puts an end to months of speculation as to Lazy Paul Rugg's future at the fledging blog. Sources close to the situation have confirmed that Thomsina-Shmentz had grown increasingly annoyed at Lazy Paul Rugg's productivity, or, as one anonymous source is quoted as saying: "Total lack thereof."<br />
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Thomasina-Shmentz is rumored to have threatened Lazy Paul Rugg with a baseball bat on numerous occasions. Tina Winkler-Boxwood, a close friend of Thomasina-Shmentz, confided to sources that Thomasina-Shmentz tried repeatedly to get Lazy Paul Rugg to stop puttering around the house and write something on the blog. "She even snuck those iddy biddy bottles of 5 Hour Energy into his tea. But it didn't work. He continued to be totally unproductive, but in a wired sort of way."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buck Castro</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Buck Castro, who covers the blogosphere for Turkish Media, says it was only a matter of time before Lazy Paul Rugg got "totally fired for being lame. He hasn't done anything for months. Nothing. I hate him and his fat face. A squirrel would be better than him! A squirrel from Turkey! We have many squirrels in Turkey. You should visit our country and see our squirrels. They are quite friendly and hardly ever bite. Except during festival, but that's only once every three years. Our squirrels are incredibly tame and will take a benzor (peanut) from your mouth, provided your lips are pursed in an exact manner. We have a pamphlet on the proper technique which can be found at all our airports and busways. For a small fee, Tahoozies (guides) will accompany you to many of Turkey's squirrel andolaors (places). Here they will not only eat benzors (peanuts) from your mouth, but other ludi (small morsels or pellets) as well. Hatooms (grapes), Flekulata (compressed hay compote) and meki (gluten rind) are all loved by squirrels from your mouth. Talk to your travel agent about making Squirrel watching in Turkey part of your travel plans."<br />
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Thomasina-Shmentz named Productive Paul Rugg as Lazy Paul Rugg's replacement. "Productive Paul Rugg will bring his years of productivity and zeal to Froynlaven," Thomasina-Shmentz said. "And if he doesn't, I'll fire his butt, too."<br />
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Story filed by Wallace Ovite<br />
Blog World Quarterly<br />
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Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-74283024562205105642012-01-23T16:37:00.000-08:002012-01-23T16:37:58.340-08:00And, The Winners Are...Janice West!!!<br />
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Austin Nebbia!!!<br />
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Valerie Tidwell!!!<br />
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Josh Gerbrandt!!!<br />
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Sorry it has taken me so long to give ya'll the results of our Froynlaven/Angels Way Charity Donation thingy...but I've been knee-deep in clearing out my old office in time for our new guest!<br />
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And, as is fitting, this blog is the first official thing I have done in my new digs here at the Froynlaven World Headquarters/Barn.<br />
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So, let us all thank Jan, Austin, Valeria and Josh for helping out Angels Way. Posters all around!<br />
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And...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz0K2ReuMfUttMBsp2FcmpCMDbAfAmr1TfBfTyIZ7SxhKWrXKDlkTUpmGaiByRuWbggBRKY6oeO2F3BxwpF8w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-84133720181173938232011-12-22T10:20:00.000-08:002011-12-22T10:42:49.194-08:00A Little Christmas Something From GlankMy friends at Glank just sent me this merry, musical Christmas Card. I thought I'd share it with you!<br />
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And please don't forget <a href="http://www.globalgiving.org/projects/homeless-pregnant-women-shelter-life-choose-education/">Angels Way Maternity Home</a> this Christmas season! They need your help!Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-54053391601579329572011-12-20T15:52:00.000-08:002011-12-20T15:52:55.969-08:00Future Home Office Of Froynlaven<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx3UjPou7BuGJRa4Pn1fr4tPRjc1A7Uxpbm41NIBRlpjc9ENzxSRit4z_W6DboI1zvuyHv1vDfahIPZECI-jg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-38764269155227987912011-10-23T10:46:00.000-07:002011-10-23T10:46:57.056-07:00SAM PLENTY SUNDAYSIn which we spend time with...<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/lF2VrZQ6SaY" width="420"></iframe>Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-57511735740806857812011-10-19T11:29:00.000-07:002011-10-19T17:41:28.164-07:00INTO THE FRAYFor months now, many of you have been urging me to help resolve the conflict between professors Anghurst Sveng and Kep Othlanpangin. During that time, I purposely chose to stay out of the affair in the hopes that these two exceptional minds could resolve their conflict in due course.<div><br /></div><div>Alas, that has not happened. These past few months have brought only ever-escalating acrimony. This acrimony now threatens to poison all of our work and, should I allow it to continue, it is highly probable that their bitter dispute could lead to the total collapse of that field of research we all hold so dear.</div><div><br /></div><div>And so, reluctantly, I find it necessary to step into the breach and bring this matter to a swift yet thoughtful conclusion.</div><div><br /></div><div>It goes without saying that I hold both Professor Sveng and Professor Othlanpangin in the highest esteem. Both are good men. Both have good intentions. And both are striving for a better understanding of the world around us.</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 193px; height: 258px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg21YTvYvJZ6ycMFb4zdhbR4el8hO-69lxMaJ_mT66t3B6Gi0lLxySUqrWwfz971ux4LXCDqRHlTLKVxcCedSuYTKKUkaRDrtgrcjYOhjSWVPUp0pvXFwePm1_JlWJj5mIU9hpyiuwO3pD/s400/crazy-professor.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665280947308667042" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw76hwau5NCYgEku3zwzgSUhPyoUqcFtS_xv9EDIKeDnyw8muyC79jT-B-CiQTw-h7M8_HxVKgHkGnZtE_WAA_icXIc2u75DjE-v_uDn2zj4GEhIJ64L2AWYI9IklKvJpkwhP_f41mx_vk/s400/images.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665367855285790754" style="cursor: pointer; width: 193px; height: 258px; " /></div><div><br /></div><div>That said, Professor Sveng is an utter moron. Now I know why some animals eat their young. If I could find enough wood, I'd board his mouth shut. If brains were bricks, he'd be homeless. What holds his ears apart? I'd like to see things from his point of view, but I can't seem to get my head that far up my bottom. I don't know what makes him so stupid, but it's really working. When he goes to the mind reader, does he get half price? Having heard him talk, I now know the dead do contact us. Calling him an idiot would be an insult to all the stupid people. It takes him an hour an a half to watch "60 Minutes." </div><div><br /></div><div>Hopefully we can now put this matter behind us.</div><div><br /></div><div>I know you all join me in congratulating both Professors Sveng and Othlanpangin in their contributions to our field of research.</div><div> </div>Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-40830803602884507482011-10-18T11:26:00.001-07:002011-10-18T11:27:32.252-07:00THE WORST MEETING OF MY LIFE - THE SECOND PART<div>Well, here it is. This is the final chapter in my horrid meeting opus. Those who never read part one may wish to do so at this time. You can find it <a href="http://froynlaven.blogspot.com/2011/07/worst-meeting-of-my-life.html">here</a>. Things will make more sense if you do. Or don't. This is a happy place and I'm not going to tell you what to do. You are free to make your own decisions. Disastrous as they may be.</div><div><br /></div>When we last left me, I had just walked into Mr. Big's office. 20 minutes prior to this, I had been filled with a cocky enthusiasm. It had now been replaced by a particularly strong sense of self-loathing and a desire to run. I didn't. I rightly figured that bolting at high speed toward the exit would be off-putting and diminish my chances at being involved in whatever secret project I had been summoned for.<div><br /></div><div>So, I put my best fake smile on and entered Mr. Big's office.</div><div><br /></div><div>BOOTS.</div><div><br /></div><div>Two men were sitting in the office with Mr. Big. One of them was wearing cowboy boots. Fancy cowboy boots. They had flecks of red in them. And maybe snaky things on the side. Boots. Maybe this man had a horse. Maybe his horse was outside. But I didn't see a horse when I entered. Maybe his horse was around back. Maybe there was no horse at all. Maybe he drove here in a car. But can you even drive with boots like that? Perhaps he had been riding his horse earlier in the day and then was late to the meeting and didn't have time to get out of his boots. Good, heavens. Why am I wondering about this guy's boots and horses? I'm now in the office of Mr. Big. THE Mr. Big. Time to focus.</div><div><br /></div><div>If this guy didn't have any horses then why would he wear boots like that...especially in Northern California? You don't wear boots like that unless you have horses. Are boots like that even comfortable? If they're not comfortable and he doesn't have any horses, then he must really like the way they look. Boots are okay. But they take a while to put on. I don't think I'd have them by my bed at night. Especially if there's an earthquake. No thank you. That would take so long and....STOP THINKING ABOUT BOOTS, Rugg.</div><div><br /></div><div>But I couldn't. See, my brain was using it as a coping mechanism. I was totally freaked out and my mind was trying to calm me down. Boots. Those are some very expensive boots. I don't know how much boots like that cost, but I bet it's a lot. Probably boots like that are special ordered from a boot guy.</div><div><br /></div><div>As I tried to make sense of the boots, I moved toward Mr. Big. Mr. Big never got up from his chair. He wasn't going to make this easy. He just stared at me politely as I approached to shake his hand. But wait. Should I shake his hand first or shake the hands of the other two men. Surely Mr. Big was more important that Boots and Mr. Guy. And what's with those boots anyway? Boots like that is a serious fashion statement. If you have boots like that you must have others. I wonder how many other pairs of boots he has like that? You have to have a pretty big closet for a collection of boots. If this was his only pair of boots, then why did he choose to wear them today? Luckily, I don't have a lot of shoes, so I don't spend a lot of time picking out what I'm going to put on my feet and...ENOUGH WITH THE BOOTS! Shake somebody's hand and get this over with!</div><div><br /></div><div>I shook Mr. Big hands. Then did the same to the other two men. Words were spoken. Words I don't remember. But the words were along the lines of, "This is Bill and Hank." I wanted to ask Hank about his boots. Maybe the three writers that had been so jocular just moments before had done a whole bit about Hank's boots. Maybe I should do the same. Maybe I should say something pithy like, "Nice, boots, Hank. Where's your horse?" Maybe they would all chuckle and then I would...</div><div><br /></div><div>Bear Country.</div><div><br /></div><div>My thoughts about saying something pithy were interrupted by Mr. Big. He was holding a piece of paper. He looked at me and said it again. Bear Country.</div><div><br /></div><div>Bear Country? What the heck is Bear Country? Why is Mr. Big looking at a piece of paper and saying the words Bear Country? The other men nodded. They had the same piece of paper.</div><div><br /></div><div>Bear Country? What the heck does that mean? Is this some sort of secret code. Is Mr. Big a Freemason? Is this all some strange roundabout way of getting me to join their secret order? And what's up with that guys BOOTS?</div><div><br /></div><div>I had no option but to say, "excuse me?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Mr. Big spoke again. "It says here you wrote Bear Country." The men looked at their paper and nodded.</div><div><br /></div><div>Suddenly it hit me. Ohhhhhhh. "You mean Country Bears?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Here's a hint. Don't do that. When someone like Mr. Big says you wrote Bear Country. Just say, "Yeah. I wrote Bear Country. I love Bear Country. Bear Country. Bear Country. Bear Country."</div><div><br /></div><div>We talked briefly about my experience on Bear Country.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then, Mr. Big asked me if I like writing with a group or am I more a solitary writer. This was an actual question!</div><div><br /></div><div>I immediately began answering. I answered truthfully. I'm a solitary kind of writer. I started actually relaxing. We're talking now. Finally. I don't even care about Hank's boots. Yeah. I'm a solitary writer. See, I like talking with people and then going away and...</div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks for coming.</div><div><br /></div><div>I had given the wrong truthful answer. Just as the blood had begun to return to my head...it started flowing out again. Hank and Bill stood. Mr. Big said it was nice meeting me.</div><div><br /></div><div>The meeting was over. I think I just sat there a moment. No wait. We're just getting started. Bear Country. Boots. Please. We're supposed to laugh and stuff. I'm supposed to get along with you. This was supposed to go so well that you want to walk me around the place and tell me stories about that really good first movie you made that I really like more than the others I didn't.</div><div><br /></div><div>Hank and Bill were shaking my hand. It was irretrievably over. Over over. Mr. Big now stood. Over over.</div><div><br /></div><div>I turned around and walked toward the door. And I tripped. I almost fell. I looked down like you do when you trip for no reason. You look for the trippy thing that tripped you. It wasn't there.</div><div><br /></div><div>Next thing I remember I was rushing toward the exit. My legs remembered which way to go. They had to. My brain wasn't helping them. Down the stairs. And out...</div><div><br /></div><div>There was my town car waiting. My driver stood by the back down. I could swear he was now wearing a mortician's outfit. The car was hearse. I got in. The door shut and we were moving away. I couldn't speak. I wanted a do-over. Don't take me away.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was my ride of shame. Two hours before the world had been bright and shiny.</div><div><br /></div><div>I sat at the airport. Quiet. Glum.</div><div><br /></div><div>The flight back to Burbank was bumpy and icky.</div><div><br /></div><div>But then I came home. My wife and daughter greeted me. All was well.</div><div><br /></div><div>And nobody wore any boots.</div><div><br /></div><div>I told my wife the story. "You should write about that one day."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Maybe I will."</div><div><br /></div><div>Now I have.</div><div><br /></div><div><div></div></div>Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542123905382149046.post-41908062502384533782011-10-11T08:48:00.000-07:002011-10-12T12:35:40.649-07:00The Window LotteryI am finally home. And I return with a newfound respect for windows. More precisely, I have a newfound respect for what windows provide. Views.<br /><div><br /></div><div>I have been in many a hotel these past three weeks. I have seen many things. I have seen many things because each hotel room had a window. Through these windows I could see my surroundings. Sometimes the view was nice. Like in Miami.</div><div><br /><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNPwmThyfbvFFbH_fP903U20y_2QLyYYofaLWnS54CYLLhFAfXZ_6B_OwLl3A_uvBc7wS80PfBivoWUZX3A3SmEKl9dwgIWjL6ouWDqfng49mN5maCzozLh3SClO9gBglPHTHOH8v-Rf-m/s400/IMG_0293.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662679080495024178" /><br />See? Isn't that nice? There are boats. There's a little island or something. There's a big tree. There's water and junk.<br /><div><br /></div><div>Every time I checked into a hotel, I would move quickly to the window to see what there was to see. Sadly, I was in Miami only a few short hours to appreciate this nice view.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes my view was not so nice.</div></div><div><br /><div> Such a view was found in Muncie. Muncie is an otherwise very nice place. However, I would be remiss if I did not point out that the view from my motel room wasn't very appealing. </div><div> </div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKxwFBlHDmdEGBoq6syDeVTmpjyvvbtlSX1X7N24lR5LD0dgj0CbrQrnmdG2QOntKycZ86IVoJi5w897OaDFXjHH4FKRRqVTtqDVsfDIAQ_F1bOvm-XjKcxpLpduIgzM0KQcXMBRzA9JW8/s400/IMG_0009.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662680287594214610" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /><div>Here it is. It's the Stoops GM dealership across the street. Stoops has many good cars for you to buy. I should know. I counted them all. There were over 100. There were many colors to choose from. There were many models. I saw a woman buy a car. It was interesting. Not super interesting. But sorta interesting. Super interesting would have been if the woman bought a car and then turned into an alien and sucked everyone's brains out through their eye sockets. But she didn't. She just bought the car and then drove off the lot. I don't know where she drove off to, but it was probably somewhere in Muncie. That's the thing about looking out your hotel room window. You can only see so much. You have to imagine the rest. I'd like to think the woman that bought the car eventually turned into an alien and sucked</div><div>somebody's brain out through their eye sockets. But, that's only speculation.</div><div>Most likely she drove home and made pot roast and then fed the dog.</div><div><br /></div><div>Moving on, sometimes the view from my hotel room was nondescript. Like this view from my room in Glen Ellyn, Illinois. </div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6osNesPalNabzk_ixtmp2hV0DMg2lBsj6IB1npoqN2zOMMLR_J6nRwRxbj73EzJlrX2beJsJMRdJ_9OeKDeWXP6xP5V8ntUZE_wfonBzrKxclw1ip3Yp5T_vKoTYJXZq1KE6xT87a-uZa/s400/IMG_0004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662683271277721922" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></div><div><div>There's a big tree there. And a parking lot beyond. The tree never moved to allow me to see anything else. I thought about getting a chainsaw and cutting it down, but propriety steadied this impulse. I was a visitor in Illinois. I didn't want to anger anyone but cutting down their trees. Illinois has many trees and I didn't think they'd miss this particular one, but it might have had</div><div>special significance to someone. Maybe that's were Bob proposed marriage to Gwen. Maybe they came to that tree every year to celebrate. If I had cut it down, they'd probably wonder what happened. Next thing you know, Bob would leave Gwen. Gwen would go crazy and take her rage out on monkeys. I don't know if Illinois has many monkeys, but I couldn't risk it. I would just have to imagine what was beyond that tree. Or watch TV.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, there are many views I witnessed. But one view in particular was astounding. It was a view so startling, so creepy and so bleak, that I will never forget it. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was 3am when I checked into the hotel in Indianapolis. I was too tired to check out my view. That would wait until morning. When morning arrived, I threw open the curtains and came face to face with...</div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2g7Dmbo-0weUmSz0aGROBqdeHOqeLuNW-NmAhv_iPVJdcHK1hYUIRxAG1rK4WbsMMyoos5NGR8EtIaQfGt8abk1PGb37GGVHxjDJrTSkotmy62eVdV4ln9CkZAByDKzyW7RIa9NZEKK83/s400/indianapolis.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662686970222483714" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></div><div>I wasn't prepared for this. What the heck was I looking at. Whatever those things are they were huge. At least 15 feet tall. </div><div><br /></div><div>Surely looking out the window the other way would provide some glimmer of hope!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>So I looked.</div><div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2h8RnP66Wm_gxY2TZ47l1UmR32k8HslL6jl8_rsl9ah9mHImPr3a2oenWmJ7xR7iX9Z2lUGU2tkEyqX2yMB-mRbLqWTetIxo_jOcRmbW1_hPgRpgYMHp76qYaxjyjTFgYiQtvaTP_AYhD/s1600/IMG_0248.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2h8RnP66Wm_gxY2TZ47l1UmR32k8HslL6jl8_rsl9ah9mHImPr3a2oenWmJ7xR7iX9Z2lUGU2tkEyqX2yMB-mRbLqWTetIxo_jOcRmbW1_hPgRpgYMHp76qYaxjyjTFgYiQtvaTP_AYhD/s400/IMG_0248.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662688049573055794" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>And...</div><div><br /></div><div>Saw the same thing. </div><div><br /></div><div>The wall behind these ducts went up 10 stories. </div><div><br /></div><div>This was not a view. It was a glimpse at a distopian future where machines ruled and man was no more. </div><div><br /></div><div>No birds. No trees. Just a big, beige wall and air ducts. </div><div><br /></div><div>Man had been exterminated. Just big clunky machines remained. Big clunky machines that made clunky machine noises. </div><div><br /></div><div>How I longed to see Stoops GM dealership! Or a tree that blocked my view. Where had all the people gone? What had we done?</div><div><br /></div><div>I quickly closed my window. I refused to open it ever again. Luckily, we checked out the next day. But still! </div><div><br /></div><div>So please. Don't ever complain about a view again. Be thankful for Stoops GM dealership. Chunky trees. Anything. Anything is better than this.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trust me.</div><div><br /></div></div></div>Paul Rugghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07365534087752086882noreply@blogger.com3