“There is something about a national convention that makes it as fascinating as a revival or a hanging,” H.L. Mencken wrote after surviving the 1924 Democratic National Convention, where delegates took 17 days and 193 ballots to select John W. Davis as their standard bearer.

“It is vulgar, it is ugly, it is stupid, it is tedious, it is hard upon both the higher cerebral centers and the gluteus maximus, and yet it is somehow charming. One sits through long sessions wishing all the delegates and alternates were dead and in hell – and then suddenly there comes a show so gaudy and hilarious, so melodramatic and obscene, so unimaginably exhilarating and preposterous that one lives a gorgeous year in an hour,” he wrote.

And so we’ve transitioned from the almost alien-like bodies of Olympians to fawning, mindless political television as the Democratic National Convention fills the airwaves and newspapers this week.

That Mencken excerpt really explains my absolute love for the man. Unfortunately, I’ve only read bits and pieces, tiny “quotables” that have been attributed to him at any and all occassions. So it’s time to buy a book on the man, which I plan to do this evening.

I happened to do a little historic coverage for the Journal Star last Saturday. You may have heard of a certain someone (Joe Biden) becoming betrothed to another someone (Barack Obama) and that it happened somewhere deep in the Midwest (Springfield, Illinois.) So I may have been there. Stay tuned.

Have you ever heard a more distressing sound? Have you?

I may be naive, but I never expected college debate to involve so much ass.

Imagine my surprise when I turned on my local NBC affiliate for some late news tonight and saw a video of Bill Shanahan mooning a full room at a debate tournament.

Now, I’ve written before about Shanahan, a debate teacher at my former college of Fort Hays State University, mainly to praise his eccentric mannerism and extreme passion. He’s crazy, absolutely atypical, with the long hair, black-rimmed glasses and bare feet to match. I liked the guy a lot. But the word “non-conformist” is his credo, and I remember many at the university thinking him a loon.

A story in the Hays Daily News today mentions his past trouble:

It isn’t the first time Shanahan has been thrust into the spotlight. He was arrested in June 2007 for disorderly conduct, resisting arrest, criminal trespass and battery for an altercation at a T-ball game in Hays.

He also was arrested in May 2006 for battery after an argument with his eye doctor.

Yes, his optician! Even something as innocuous as ocular health can be debated (the pros and cons of contact lenses?)

Still, sometimes you run up against an authority figure that just won’t take “crazy” for an answer. University president Ed Hammond fired Shanahan today, citing that he violated university policy. “Everyone has a right to First Amendment speech, freedom of speech, but these actions are unacceptable for someone representing our university,” Hammond said, according to the Hays Daily News.

In the meantime, Hammond has suspended the debate and forensic teams at FHSU. That’s a shame, for I do remember the program having a history of doing really well nationally. In fact, in 2002 the team reached the national championship. Hammond did commend Shanahan for his prior accomplishments at the school, and then a statement was read from Shanahan.

“I hope this incident does not detract from the incredible work done by Fort Hays State debate over the last decade, or my other contributions to FHSU, which are far greater than a 9-minute YouTube clip.” (click here for an abbreviated clip from ABC News)

(also, an editorial from the Wichita Eagle on the incident)

Throughout July, I managed to not once set food in a coffee establishment. This meant forgoing my neighborhood Starbucks, a place that I’ve embarrassingly made my own.

So when I walk in the door today, the Prodigal Son had returned home. Employees restrained themselves from hugging me, instead giving a steep discount to their new Vivanno drink. It tastes like multi-colored chalk cut with fruit juice and milk, which means I love it.

Random things stored in the notes section of my Blackberry…

“Suspect has a black jacket and a crazy unkempt fro.” – officer on police scanner Sunday evening

“Gas station attendee reading a chapter titled ‘Regulating Your Mind.'” I carefully buy gum and water.

“I truly believe that you can tell a man’s worth by how he reacts to a bad golf game.”

“It’s better to be beaten by grandpa than by dad.” – Micah, in regards to the rough, yet reassuring, flights in prop planes.

“McDonalds commercial with music from Os Mutantes? Really?”

“Sign atop railroad bridge near work: ‘Isn’t the sky beautiful?'”

“Washburn, Illinois business: Karaoke by Loud Larry”

“Hey sexy… hey sexy with the pillows!” – voice of young woman a few blocks away, shouting toward me as I unload a mountain of pillows from my car

There’s a moment in August when both old and young realize that summer truly is fleeting. It is not dependent on a return to school; no, it is an encroaching sadness that runs much deeper.

Peter and the Wolf – “Safe Travels”

As of Monday, Google added 30-some new cities to their Street View service. Peoria, along with my hometown of Wichita, were both added. Of course, local reaction ranged from “why is this news?” to “you’re invading my private privacy in public!” My reaction was a little more tepid: “now I have yet another way to waste valuable time in my underwear.”

Yes, my old residence and current vehicle. Perhaps you can see me snoozing mid-day in my room, sicko.

Since I tortured so many of you via emails and instant messages with this task, I figure it’s time to relive the whole nightmare all over again.

Take a sheet of paper and place it on your desk. Insert writing utensil into hand (properly, please) and crap out three sentences that describe your entire being. Begin… NOW.

Adam is a staff photographer from Wichita, Kan. He is a kind and gentle man, a hard worker who always gives 110 percent and then 10 percent more. He also reads and writes. Adam can be reached at…

Adam is a staff photographer, proficient reader and man of great height (over 6-feet, even!) After a brief 22-year stint in Wichita, Kan., he’s now living and working in a city that reminds him a little too much of home. Adam can be reached at…

Adam takes photographs, reads consummately and enjoys apartments with wood floors and lead paint. He can be reached at …

Alright, pencils down. Let’s see what you’ve accomplished. The first one is snarky and, frankly, a complete lie. “A real sonofabitch” is what should be crammed in there somewhere. Second one, just too wordy. Sure, you’ve given a few more relevant details, but we (the eds) really don’t care if you’re midget or Waldo.

So I guess we’re left with the third one. Simple, barely over one sentence, and still throws in a healthy dash of quirkiness for the ladies. 

I ended up being axed entirely from the bio section of the magazine. Fitting.

A Writer by Any Other Name from The Morning News. “Already, I’ve spent longer writing the bio than I did writing the article it is supposed to sit alongside. I must never admit this in public. Imagine the ridicule.”

On assignment at Bureau Valley High School in Manlius, Ill.

I shot a magazine assignment in Manlius, Illinois a few months ago, a story about one man who helped convince a school district to purchase and install a nearly 300-foot-tall wind turbine.

Of course, this assignment has been saddled with complications from the beginning. The weather in central Illinois is terribly inconsistent; several weeks of dreary, rainy days followed by blindingly bright and cloudless days. When the assignment is an hour north of Peoria, planning a shoot more than 4 hours in advance is begging for failure.

Also, I’m absolutely embarrassed that my camera sensor was as dirty as it was. Since I’m a photojournalist, and a second-shifter at that, I usually shoot my lenses wide open at f2.8. But stop down to f8 or f11 and suddenly the sky is littered with debris that closely resembles boogers or worse.

Births are joyous occasions and this is no exception. I’m proud to announce a joint effort between Micah Mertes and I, punchyouintheheart.com.

You might be a little curious about the name. “Why the long title? And why punch a heart, afterall?” We have Rolling Stone’s Peter Travers to blame. His asinine, stereotyping movie reviews for the magazine have long been a source of admiration/hatred/consternation. So while racking our brains for a proper name for this new baby, one of us remembered a long-ago review of the boxing movie “Cinderella Man.” While the actual blurb was “it hits you right in the heart,” the incorrect quote had already stuck and here we are.

Unlike this poor site, it should always be well-stocked and fresh. We’re planning on having several contributing writers, movie lovers like us who can help fill in the gaps. If you might be interested, a work sample.