CHARLESTON, South Carolina, South Carolina Aquarium -- I'm proud of this picture. Not many photographers are capable of such a shot and the tippy toes and the eeking.
Mike Durrett: CONFIDENTIAL
Mikey Fins
CHARLESTON, South Carolina, South Carolina Aquarium -- I'm proud of this picture. Not many photographers are capable of such a shot and the tippy toes and the eeking.
Mike Durrett: CONFIDENTIAL
On Second Thought...
This display isn't letterboxed. Forget it. I'm not going to watch cropped 'cudas.
Mike Durrett: CONFIDENTIAL
Another Vacation Ruined
CHARLESTON, South Carolina -- The same old story. Every time I get excited about visiting an aquarium, they confiscate my tartar sauce.
Mike Durrett: CONFIDENTIAL
Uncle Mike, Role Model
ISLE OF PALMS, South Carolina -- My wife and adult niece discussed the breakfast menu at a local eatery. Actual conversation:
Donna: Ooo, they've got Eggs Benedict. And they even have Crabcakes Benedict.
Deborah: I don't know about eggs all over my crab.
(Painful, long silence before Deb looked at me.)
Mike: I'm saying nothing.
Mike Durrett: CONFIDENTIAL
Profile in Courage 2
Real men are not amused by your casual talk of sharks.
Mike Durrett: CONFIDENTIAL
Profile in Courage
ISLE OF PALMS, South Carolina -- A real man is nonchalant when sharing his physique with the masses. Here's a glorious photo of me at the beach.
The pathetic truth is I was sucking in my gut.
Mike Durrett: CONFIDENTIAL
Steppin' Out With My "Bang Bang"
July 20, 1969.
I remember it well. That's the night man landed on the moon. It's also the day I landed the flying "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" car. Four times, in fact.
I was the projectionist at the Emory Cinema in Atlanta, GA, during the summer before my senior year of high school. I recall sneaking a black-and-white portable television set from home into the machine room. That little caper was a fireable offense, but I was determined to see history made. If only modern technology could have made Dick Van Dyke quit singing in that stupid movie.
I showed "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" daily for an entire month. (Pronounce the title any way you choose. I know I certainly did.)
Thank goodness, school was not in session. That motion picture was so uncool, I do believe the kids would have revoked my coveted Class Clown (pronounced: "Head Dork") title had they been the wiser.
As NASA's program played out, the moon landing was delayed until the wee hours of the morning, so I lugged the TV home and watched the historical event with my grandmother and Walter Cronkite, who quipped "Hot dog!" while Neil Armstrong was bounding around the moon, looking for a Waffle House.
Nana was happy, too, ambling about the kitchen with her hot milk, looking for a cigarette.
I was craving frankfurters, thanks to Walter, while Mr. Van Dyke did a little tune and dance in the rear of my mind. I didn't so much as tap a foot from the couch.
Several years later, I heard speculations the moon landing was faked on a movie soundstage. Preposterous!
I was there. I witnessed it all. There were no bad songs.
I remember it well. That's the night man landed on the moon. It's also the day I landed the flying "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" car. Four times, in fact.
I was the projectionist at the Emory Cinema in Atlanta, GA, during the summer before my senior year of high school. I recall sneaking a black-and-white portable television set from home into the machine room. That little caper was a fireable offense, but I was determined to see history made. If only modern technology could have made Dick Van Dyke quit singing in that stupid movie.
I showed "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" daily for an entire month. (Pronounce the title any way you choose. I know I certainly did.)
Thank goodness, school was not in session. That motion picture was so uncool, I do believe the kids would have revoked my coveted Class Clown (pronounced: "Head Dork") title had they been the wiser.
As NASA's program played out, the moon landing was delayed until the wee hours of the morning, so I lugged the TV home and watched the historical event with my grandmother and Walter Cronkite, who quipped "Hot dog!" while Neil Armstrong was bounding around the moon, looking for a Waffle House.
Nana was happy, too, ambling about the kitchen with her hot milk, looking for a cigarette.
I was craving frankfurters, thanks to Walter, while Mr. Van Dyke did a little tune and dance in the rear of my mind. I didn't so much as tap a foot from the couch.
Several years later, I heard speculations the moon landing was faked on a movie soundstage. Preposterous!
I was there. I witnessed it all. There were no bad songs.
Mike Durrett: CONFIDENTIAL
Mike on Vacation
Yeah, I know. It's an oxymoron.
We're here with various family members and baby drools in a nice three-bedroom condo on the Isle of Palms, SC, essentially Charleston. I snapped the photo from our balcony.
That's the Atlantic Ocean straight ahead, beyond the nipples.
The cargo ship, we estimate, is several miles away and the horizon, according to the specific horizon-figuring formula my brother has memorized, involving square roots, eyeball parameters, and an abacus made from cartographer bunions, is six-to-seven miles out.
My brother also has anecdotes about egg farts, available on request. Serves six.
For similar views of our beach, we're camped approximately one block to the left of The JammerCam, provided by a local watering hole. Click their "SurfCam" for the best exposures. Photos refresh every five seconds at http://jammercam.com/.
We stroll by the JammerCam twice per day. Look for us; we'll wave.
Feels like 100+ degrees outside. Ben & Jerry's across the street. Late night shopping at the Piggly Wiggly. What more could we want?
Oh, okay, we'd like a WigglyCam.
We're here with various family members and baby drools in a nice three-bedroom condo on the Isle of Palms, SC, essentially Charleston. I snapped the photo from our balcony.
That's the Atlantic Ocean straight ahead, beyond the nipples.
The cargo ship, we estimate, is several miles away and the horizon, according to the specific horizon-figuring formula my brother has memorized, involving square roots, eyeball parameters, and an abacus made from cartographer bunions, is six-to-seven miles out.
My brother also has anecdotes about egg farts, available on request. Serves six.
For similar views of our beach, we're camped approximately one block to the left of The JammerCam, provided by a local watering hole. Click their "SurfCam" for the best exposures. Photos refresh every five seconds at http://jammercam.com/.
We stroll by the JammerCam twice per day. Look for us; we'll wave.
Feels like 100+ degrees outside. Ben & Jerry's across the street. Late night shopping at the Piggly Wiggly. What more could we want?
Oh, okay, we'd like a WigglyCam.
Mike Durrett: CONFIDENTIAL
100 Things About Me
#32
Generation Flaps
Generation Flaps
Humongous sideburns on old guys have always repulsed me. So, I like to grow 'em to creep out the young punks.
Mike Durrett: CONFIDENTIAL
"Childerns Fever"
"Pardon me, do you work here? Your sign misspells 'Children's.' No need to apologize, but I am looking for the Minstrel Camp."
Mike Durrett: CONFIDENTIAL
Mike and Lester Mike: An Act of the Clone
Never did I anticipate making a film with my identical clone, but it's out today. We rushed to beat the Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn comedy, "Wedding Crashers," coming next week. There are similarities.
See our trailer online. I've written a brief introduction and an article. See you at the Oscars!
"Wedding Crashers" Trailer Crashers: Introduction | Article and Trailer
Mike Durrett: CONFIDENTIAL
Bread Pit
Twenty-four years of marriage. Actual conversation:
Donna: I need to find me a business.
Mike: I told you: Biscuits.
Donna: A biscuit shop?
Mike: Yes.
Donna: I don't know how to make biscuits.
Mike: Ask Morty.
Donna: He's a cat.
Mike: Watch him knead. He's making biscuits.
Donna: I don't think so--
Mike: All you need to know are, two things:
(dramatic pause)
Biscuits ...
Donna: And?
Mike: "Soppin's." "Soppin's" is the magic word. Throw around a bunch of "soppin's" and you're a millionaire.
Donna: You're crazy.
Mike: "Would you like some more soppin's, darlin'? Eight dollars."
Donna: *sigh*
Mike: We'll be rich, I tell ya. What can we sop?
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