A few weeks ago, we got excited and posted some weird, slow-jam, doo-wop version of the classic “Don’t Lay That Trash on Oklahoma” commercial from the 1980s. Here’s a snippet of what we wrote:
For several years now, we’ve begged for someone with Jordan Associates or ODOT to add the classic “Don’t Lay That Trash on Oklahoma” commercial to YouTube. Since both groups are either incompetent or don’t read The Lost Ogle, it never happened…
Well, I guess you can’t say the people at Jordan Associates are incompetent or don’t read The Lost Ogle. A few days after we posted the weird remix jingle to YouTube, Jordan uncovered the original 1987 TV commercial from their archives and uploaded it to YouTube.
The video is everything it should be: awesome, cheesy and nostalgic. I even think Young Steve Lackmeyer makes a cameo at around the 26-second mark. Check it out:
Happy Gary England Day. We hope the weather in your area is calm and treating you well.
On this day in 1939, Gary England, our holy chief meteorologist and severe weather savior, was born in a small barn in Seiling, Oklahoma. Upon his birth, thunder rumbled and lightning struck throughout the Sooner state. Seeing this as a sign that the chosen meteorologist had entered our mortal world, three wise men traveled to Seiling on horseback, bringing with them a thermometer, small weather balloon and bag of ice melt as gifts for the young weather deity.
At the age of only seven, Gary England forecast his first twister during the famed Tinker Air Force Base Tornado Outbreak of 1948. His advanced notification system saved several hundred lives. In 1952, Gary performed the first of what would be known as the “Kay County Miracles” by accurately predicting the summer time high temperatures and dew points for 24 consecutive days in Blackwell, Oklahoma. During the 1957 prairie blizzard that struck the midwest, Gary rescued hundreds of stranded motorists while wearing only gardening clogs.
By the time 1963 rolled around, Gary was known throughout underground (and outlawed) meteorological sects as the “chosen one.” He would travel from small town to small town, teaching people the art of tornado “per’cautions” in late-night, bonfire revivals. At the Carnegie State Fair in 1971, Gary fought off a large squall line with only a sword and shield. This heroic act of bravery was noticed by the powers that be at KWTV Channel 9, and by early 1972, Gary was brought in as a meteorologist. The rest, as they (especially Al Eschbach) say, is history.
To pay tribute and honor our Holy Chief Meteorologist, Tony and I (along with Cardboard Jim Traber) will be making our first ever pilgrimage to Seiling, Oklahoma. On this trip, we will make an offering of rainwater and hail from the Great Hail Storm of 2010 at the town’s tornado siren. We will also search for ancient lost relics, including the Holy Gentner of Apache, the original script to Twister, and Gary’s first five-day forecast. It should be an amazing trip.
We will post pictures from our excursion next week on the site, but you can tag along with us by following our journey on Twitter (@TheLostOgle) or Facebook (Facebook/LostOgle). We’ll be classing it up very nice in a new Touareg provided by Fowler Volkswagen of Norman. Did you know Touaregs are built with a titanium shell that is resistant to hail, tree limbs and crazy girlfriends? Well, they are not, but after we sprinkle dirt from the ground where Gary England was born over the hood, I bet ours will be.
Anyway, before this gets any weirder, let’s recite the “Ode to Gary England” poem that we wrote last January and get along with our day:
I, like nearly every red-blooded American woman, enjoy shopping. There’s nothing quite like trying on clothes in a public place and then crying in dressing rooms because your boobs are too small and your hips are too big. And then it’s also nice to decide to buy something anyway and then put it on a credit card that you won’t be paying off anytime soon. It’s really easy to see why so many of us totally love to go to the mall and stuff.
But apparently there are more perils when it comes to shopping in the metro area for us ladies. And no, I’m not talking about what happens when people find out you shop at J.C. Penney. (They totally have reasonably priced undergarments and business casual options for when you work for companies that have a dress code but don’t pay you enough to buy the necessary wardrobe so stop judging me.) I’m actually talking about when this creeper dude slides a cell phone under your dressing room door to film you.
Something interesting happened this past weekend while I was emceeing at the Loony Bin comedy club. The late show on Saturday was attended by a friend of mine, and with that friend was Ben Barresi, the son of Oklahoma State School Superintendent. We chatted a little about politics, he introduced me to his fiance, and showed me his Big 12 Championship ring from his days of playing at OU. He was a nice guy, but I got the vibe the he and his fiance didn’t like the fact that I was a Democrat…or devilishly handsome.
Anyway, the very next day I read this article about Oklahoma hemorrhaging superintendents since 2006. “What an interesting coincidence.” I thought. “I meet the State Superintendent’s son, and then read an article about how school superintendents hate their jobs.” Then I watched the Mentalist on DVR.
More than 300 public school district superintendents have resigned since 2006, state Education Department records show. Another 218 have retired or been fired during that same time.
The peak came in 2008, when 75 left via resignation. Only 35 resigned in 2006.
Between 2007 and 2011 — with exception of the high-water mark in 2008 — between 49 and 53 superintendents resigned.
Why so many superintendents are leaving depends on who you ask.
Since the Oklahoman didn’t ask me, I would like to list some of my theories on why superintendents are quitting.
On Monday, The Oklahoman published this article by Jenni Carlson, about how tough it is to be Whitney Hand whenever her husband Landry Jones plays the sport of football terribly. In response, TLO sent our newest contributor — Fake Jenni Carlson — to TLO co-founder Tony’s house so she could report on what it was like to be Tony’s girlfriend when he reads a Jenni Carlson article. Fake Jenni Carlson’s dispatch follows.
Oklahoma City — The day started off completely normally. Tony Hanadarko, one of the three co-founders of the local blog The Lost Ogle, got up, brushed his teeth, poured a bowl of Cheerios, and opened up the paper.
“He just loves those Cheerios,” Tony’s girlfriend Samantha said. “Every day it’s the same. Cheerios, Cheerios, Cheerios. Hey, whatever makes him happy, right?”
After glancing at the front page, Tony turned to the sports section. Instantly, his eyes went straight to the byline: “Jenni Carlson.” He winced.
Samantha threw her hands over her eyes.
She’d already seen too much.
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