Bartles and Lame

Hmmmm. That's either a recently unearthed picture of Edgar Winter throwin' down with that dillweed from My Two Dads, or it's a long-lost photo of me and my old pal Council. But WAIT! - this isn't just another celebration of mullets past. There's some actual broadcast history here... See, when I first stumbled into a TV station, I harbored a half-baked ambition. In short, I wanted to be that mercurial guru who made amazing television. Then I learned Eastern Carolina already had one of those: some stringy-haired genius named Council Bradshaw. Council? Whose name is Council?!?

I soon found out. He was ... my biggest competition. Firmly ensconsed at that other station, Council was a year ahead of me in the business and infinitely more talented. When I first began producing local commercials, I'd feel pretty good about every third one. Then I'd flip over to Channel X and catch the latest Bradshaw production. Three point lighting, tailored soundtracks, smoke machines, flying monkeys ... every time I mastered a fundamental, ole long hair would make some quantum leap and my reel would suddenly look like the pathetic small market hackery it truly was. So I started making promos for my station's news product, only to watch Casper here do pirouettes around me with his slicker than thou image campaigns. His 'Ben and Brad' spots were pieces of freaking art - and they still hold up to this day. Yes, for the first year of my career, I wanted to BE Council Bradshaw - that, or push the damn hippy in front of a bus.

But a funny thing happened on the way to homicide. I met him. Come to find out, he was just some starry-eyed cat from the sticks who dreamed of TV glory - just like ME! In time we became great friends - even if he did regularly mop up the local awards circuit with my budding wrestler 'do. After 18 months or so of watching him chew my food, I followed my instincts into the equally thankless world of news. There I flourished, grew cocky and on a young man's whim, told my first News Director where he could stuff his broadcast. A few week later, I took a job with Channel X for a little more coin. I was young, proud and more than a little stoked to finally be on Council's team. He seemed pleased too and when he presented me with a shiny black station windbreaker, I made sure to wear it the day I took my fancycam for a swim. It was the least I could do.

While I settled into bureau life, working the mean streets of Kinston and Greenville under the tutelage of Spencer, Kusbit and Dunn, my other begrudging mentor found himself at odds with the diabolical worm that ran Channel X. Not being without contacts or options, Council fled to higher ground to make station promos somewhere in the Piedmont. I realized immediately why he left, but didn't let it stop me from eventually assuming his old position as Chocowinity's whipping boy. A couple of years later, when I found myself fantasizing about climbing the tower out back and picking off certain coworkers, I exercised my one last option. I rang up the most talented TV guy I knew. Council took my call and offered me a free tour of a place called El Ocho. The rest, is Lenslinger history...

Until a couple of years ago, when, having grown weary tired of endless station ad campaigns and multiple local Emmys - Council once again proved he was smarter me by leaving behind the grind of daily television. Nowadays, he's got his own slick-ass production firm and from what I hear, is doing quite well. When he mentioned recently he'd found a picture of the two of us from some early 90's TV party, I encouraged him to upload it to Facebook. What he didn't tell me is that - for reasons I can't fully explain - I'm grinning like an imbecile and double-fisting two open wine coolers...

Thanks, Buddy!