My posts have sucked lately. And this one is no exception. A friend of mine has started a company that distributes local seafood to parts of South Carolina where local seafood means Captain D's. It's great for the local economy, great for local fishermen type people, and great for your taste buds. Blah, blah, blah. Just vote here (and only once).

My posts are coming back. I swear. It was a rough week, as our bowling league came to an end. A drunken, vomit-stained end. So I've got a piece on Idol for you later . . . check back. Seacrest, out.

Seriously, could they not find a better silhouette? And, more importantly, who's the lucky guy on the other end of this ride? Yeah, I thought we could use a little levity after that Cho maniac.

So this guy sent a video into NBC so that all the world could learn from his martyrdom. God, now it all seems so clear. Thanks for elucidating the follies of our ways. The world is a better place now. We have all taken notes and are all taking your words of wisdom to heart. Gosh, no, we aren't writing you off as a lunatic. You're a true inspiration. And taking your own life sure took balls. Way to be! And nice ball cap. Nothing says "tough" quite like a loaded Glock and a hat that's been turned around. I knew Jesus would come back sooner or later. And I knew he'd be doing my nails.

Oh, and you know what else I knew? That we'd be pointing fingers before Anderson Cooper could put his car in park. Virginia Tech is not at fault and neither is the pawn shop owner. And as little respect as I have for W The President, it wasn't his fault either. A handgun is the problem as much as an airplane was the problem. Of course the warning signs were there. They're always there. These people are always freakish loners obsessed with violence. And of course everyone who's encountered one of these psychopaths has known them as such. Sure. Perhaps Cho's problems could have been dealt with long ago (which his parents would have had to support). Maybe he'd be in a facility right now had they been. Still, I'm pretty sure that by the time he made it to Blacksburg he was gone. And had they kicked him out, do you not think he'd break that rule and come back to campus one last time? No, that rule he'd follow. "I want to kill as many people as I can and die like Jesus, but, darnit, I'm not allowed on campus this semester." I do think some of these tragedies can be avoided, but it's unfair to say that Virginia Tech helped facilitate this one. There have always been and will always be crazy people willing to do the unthinkable (as defined by a relatively sane person). They have total disregard for their lives, others' lives and, obviously, laws. We can prevent some of them, but not all of them. Well, unless that Minority Report movie was based on a true story. Anyway, maybe we can start focusing on the people worth focusing on: the 32 who didn't go to school to die that day.

I've got my first date in years! Okay, so that's not true. But I am all about hot Christian women. If you didn't click on that link, you should. This self-described "hot Bible-beater" seeks out hunky men to date in order to convert them into God-fearing Christians. She also seems to break their hearts - callously. Loves 'em and leaves 'em. It's brilliant, really. But what if you want to convert people to Satanism? Or just atheism? Someone needs to create that site. Lord knows I'm already living it. Three of my past girlfriends no longer believe there's a God. Yep, I'm a great boyfriend. A joy. Anyway, at first I was thinking "Date to Enslave". But it just doesn't have that ring to it, you know? So I settled on "Rape to Save". It doesn't just make for a great t-shirt, it makes for a great scene outside of Longhorn Steakhouse.

Now, I wouldn't need a mission or vulnerable prey if I had skills like this McDreamy. Check out tip #3: On an airplane, ask to borrow a pen. If you're feeling really courageous, once you've got her pen, shake her hand and say very seriously, "Nice to meet you, I'm ranked #2 among America's Most Wanted Pen Thieves. Ever seen it?" Sure it's kinda cheesy, but it's also the kind of off-the-wall thing women love. It also works really well at the bank. Just yesterday when I asked to borrow a pen from the teller, she smiled and pointed to one on the counter. I started using it and said, verbatim, "Did you know I steal pens all the time and I'll probably steal this one because like I said earlier I'm single and I steal pens all the time. Have you ever seen that show?" She smiled at me!! Smiled at me and said something about how I'd have to steal the entire counter, because the pen I was using was chained to it. I said to her, "Yeah, well, then maybe I'll just steal all the money from that motherfucking register, bitch." Next thing I know I'm being escorted out of Wachovia. I think she'll remember me, though. And it probably won't be long before I make a little deposit of my own, if you know what I mean. A little transferring of funds, if you catch my drift. A little ATM balance inquiry, if you're picking up what I'm putting down. A little second-mortgage with a new equity line of credit, if you're feeling my heat. Okay, I have no idea what I'm talking about anymore. Suffice it to say, I'll be watching Mr. 3000 over at her place next week. And converting her to Satanism.

Current obsession: Man vs. Wild. I watch it just to hear the guy pronounce "glacier" "glah-see-eh".

I just got back from a meeting with a web programmer. We we went over a website for a non-profit I'm working on called "School's Out". I agreed to do the free work because I thought it had something to do with Alice Cooper. I was way wrong and I'm now paying the price.

We joked about the subpar copy in the Charleston area. Seriously, it pretty much blows no matter how you slice it. And it's because no one wants to pay for copy. After all, we all know how to write and that's what copy is, right? Wrong. Copy can make or break an ad. At least when you're talking about anything other than used cars and pawn shops. This is especially the case when your photogrpahy leaves a lot to be desired. When you don't have a picture, you better have a thousand words. A thousand well-crafted words. Though you can usually settle for few well-crafted words.

No one around here wants to pay for photography either. Digital cameras can be blamed for that as much as hubris, ignorance and frugalness can. For a year or so I worked with a high-end window distributor, and by high-end I mean these windows cost more than most people's homes. Still, the literature and sales materials were JV. So I had some contacts work up quotes for photoshoots. But the head honcho thought the quotes were too expensive, so he flew some dude over from Germany (where he's from) to shoot our products. What we ended up with were thumbs in the pictures, shadows over our windows and no real way to access the photos. But we saved money! To this day, they're still using the same old literature, much of which is in German. Here, this might convince you to spend $250,000 on some mahogany windows: Die! Scheinfreud, der weinershitz, gutenburgen! Sold!

Anyway, I just wish people would spend the money on marketing so that their marketing would mirror the quality of their product - not the product with fingers blocking the blurred edges, but the actual product. I've been fortunate enough to work with a developer who listens to reason, who values the opinion of others. On one project in particular we didn't have good photography (or drawings), so we used long copy to tell the story (because of his unique product, there was a story to tell). And I think we told it better than a rendering with the words "a better life is closer than you think" placed underneath could have. Although "Carpe Loftum" is darn compelling.

As for working with people who listen to you, I always equate it with going to the doctor. You don't schedule an appointment to get Xrays and have blood work done only to tell the doctor what it is you need. Hopefully, you listen to - and take - the doctor's advice. That's what he or she (who are we kidding?) is good at: diagnosing a problem and offering a solution. That's not what you're good at, so shut your fucking mouth. "I'm sorry, son, but you have gonorrhea." "Actually, Doc, you're wrong. I have Sickle Cell Anemia. And I want to take HeadOn to cure it." Now do you see how dumb you sound? So here's the first of three inserts that went into Savannah's (SCAD's) weekly paper - sorry for the two up thing:

And, yeah, they were printed on recycled paper. Sure, they're not groundbreaking. But they're also not hideously idiotic. Anyway, I left advertising for many reasons. One being that I couldn't cut it, another being that it became too robotic. I can do the robot, but I am no robot.

Speaking of machines, this song has been stuck in my head for weeks now - it's awse! See how that wonderful copy and exclamation point just sold you on this song?? God, I'm good at what I rarely do . . . so grab some speakers and that tall drink of water and start making out already . . .

Law school. What do those words do for you? For me they mean three more years of malingering. Kidding. I'm mature. So, yeah, I'm heading to school this fall. Not much will change. I'll still be in Charleston and I'll still be working part-time with a local green developer. And, of course, I'll still be doing my cards. Only now I'll be able to sue people who don't laugh at my jokes. And if you happen to be that guy who continues to write all those things about my inconsequential manhood in every bathroom stall on King Street, you betsta put the cap on that Sharpie.

So tonight I was treated to a little show I like to call "The Bachelor". Apparently a lot of people like to call it that. Anyway, there are three book-challenged bimbos from Charleston in this season's miracle, each one looking for her latest soul mate. Each one destined for greatness. They all (the Sandlappers) received a rose this week, and the one from Folly Beach, the one who uses "animosity" as a verb, seems to be the early frontrunner.

The bachelor this year is either in the Navy or has a very limited wardrobe. He also drives what looks to be a Lotus or Lamborghini. I'm not what you'd call a "grease monkey" so I'm not really sure. Either way, the car he toots around town in looks like it costs as much as all of those hopeful girls' breast implants combined. And this oddly chiseled Navy guy is all about those implants; he is the biggest cheesedick this show has ever had. And though I haven't watched many seasons, I feel I can say that with certainty.

Next week there appears to be an accident that sends one of the "ladies" to the hospital, there's some mud wrestling, and there's a drill sergeant yelling about roses while the girls are doing crunches. In other words, time to program your Tivo.

In other local news, Al Parish, a Charleston Southern University economics guru (oxymoron?) who has a penchant for technicolor suits and fountain pens, is heading to court. He allegedly swindled about $140 million out of investors. However, upon closer look at his mutual fund, the blame seems hard to place solely on Parish's shoulders. Take a look at his fund's portfolio:

Kiawah Island Beach House, Inc. (KIbh) - 15%
Fast Cars, LLC (Fcrs) - 11.5%
Diamonds for Wife, LLC (DFW) - 7%
Filet Mignon, Inc. (OStx) - 1%
Technicolor Suits and Fountain Pens, Inc. (Tsfp) - 3.5%
Monocles, Inc. (Monc) - 1%
Ivory Canes, Inc. (Icne) - 2%
Golf Lessons, LLC (Glfl) - 4%
Faster Cars, Inc. (Fscr) - 4%
Gucci Loafers, LLC (Gulo) - 2%
Pimpy Jet, Inc. (Pjet) - 20%
Butler, LLC (Btlr) - 8%
Tall Brick Fence so Neighbors and SEC Can't Peek in, LLC (Tfns) - 5%
Vault that I Can Swim in Like Scrooge McDuck Had in Duck Tales, Inc. (Vltd) - 2%

So you see . . . it was clearly listed in his holdings. Diverse? Yes. Awesome? Of course. This guy is so off the hook, in every possible usage of the term. Including the rare usage that means "Lacking both scruples and brain, rendering said person completely fucked." Follow the story here.

And the story gets good:

The SEC said after it attempted to contact Parish, "he checked into a local hospital claiming to have amnesia."

In an exclusive Keller's Kards interview, I spoke with Parish earlier today and he had this to say: "I totally forgot I was a fund manager. For the past two years I thought I was a Foot Locker manager. You sound to be about a size 12. What say we put you in a new pair of Zippydeedoos?"

Alls I can say is these shoes are terrific. You go, Al Parish. Keep fighting the good fight.

Update: Steven Jordan, a Mount Pleasant-based artist, met Parish when he was commissioned to paint a pattern of jaguar spots on the convertible top of the economist's Jaguar sports car. Read the latest in the Post & Courier. It's engrossing. Emphasis on "gross".

And now more songs about lovings and loves: