My Wedding Band: Morris Day & The Time

Morris Day and The Time is the greatest band that has ever walked the face of the earth. Better than the Beatles and the Monkees combined. I want to book them to play at our reception.

I think this could happen. They just played at Speed Street earlier this year, so we know they'll travel to Charlotte. They also have a leg-kickin' dance that goes along with "Jungle Love." I demonstrated it for Fiancee and her mom this weekend in the family living room. It wasn't great, but was good enough to make the family golden retriever bark and stomp. It also woke up Fiancee's father. I'm not sure if anyone was impressed, but to be fair, I haven't been rehearsing.

In Charlotte, Zombies Are So Hot Right Now

"Playing Dead," the six-page comic you see in this month's Charlotte magazine, came into being months ago with a simple question: Are sports dying in this town? The Panthers finished with a 2-14 record. The Bobcats missed the playoffs. Again. My original assignment (back in March) was a 400-500 word think piece on what the hell happened last season.

I suggested a different route: Trying to figure out if Charlotte, as a sports city, was major league or minor league. I took the buckshot approach. I looked up a bunch of guys who were all very visible around town. These were guys who had been around for a long time, and had made some sort of impact on sports culture here. I made a bunch of calls but came up with four guys: Jerry Reese, Mark Packer, Muggsy Bogues and Gregory Good (the Catman).

I took their differing opinions and wrote up a 1,500 word story. It was okay. But I thought of something. I emailed Richard Thurmond, Charlotte magazine's editor: 

JEREMY: It occurred to me that I really have four sort of superhero names and characters here, Muggsy, Packman, Catman and The Litigator (Reese). I don't know if that's worth playing up more. I had this delusion of sort of a graphic novel, where all four of them come together like the SuperFriends and solve Charlotte's sports problems.

RICK: I think you may be on to something.

Three WCNC Employees Waste Everybody's Time Quoting Fletch

Oh, it's real. And it's spectacular. Watch as an innocent tweet about a delayed plane sets off a maelstrom of inanity.

To Be The Man, You've Gotta See The Man

It took me almost six years, but finally, I saw Ric Flair in his natural habitat: South Charlotte.

I was looking for a parking spot near SouthPark mall and there he was, walking down the sidewalk, hunched forward just a little bit. He is a primary color guy. Yellow hair. Blue t-shirt. Red skin.

He was probably leaving Cowfish. I hear he's there a lot. He's also at Dean & Deluca a lot. Same with The Lodge. And Harris Teeter. He's in so many places that seeing him out is a right of passage for Charlotteans. San Juan Capistrano has swallows. Punxatawney has a groundhog. Charlotte has Flair.

Ohio University, In Seven Regrettable Stories Involving Alcohol

A guy I sorta know came up to me at the gym last night, all sweaty and happy. I've talked to him a few times. He went to Ohio University, like me.

"Did you see?" he asked. He was talking about the Princeton Review's list of the top party schools. Ohio came in first.

He was so proud.

A lot of Bobcat alumni have all, in one way or another, said the same thing to me over the last couple of days. Of course the university is all upset about this. But Athens, you see, is in the middle of Ohio's Appalachian foothills. There are college kids there. It's a public university. The closest "big" city is, ahem, Parkersburg, West Virginia. They should have seen this coming.

So, rather than try to come up with some well thought-out monologue, I will now relate as many alcohol-related college stories as I can remember from my freshman year: