As he approached age 30, Brian uncustomarily turned over the hallowed pixels of his Web site to others’ thoughts.  Here now, those who think they know Brian well share their memories:

Anita “Dot” Normanly:

When I heard you were celebrating your 40th birthday, I couldn’t believe it. You don’t look a day over 37! You’ve really tapped into the fountain of youth, haven’t you?

Oh, Tater, our friendship means so much to me. Who else shares my passion for horseback riding, traditional hymns, hot yoga and raising show ferrets? No one, that’s who. You’re one-of-a-kind.

Of course, it goes without saying, there is no one else I want to celebrate Hanukkah with.

Cheers to your dazzling milestone! You are a true American Bad Ass and the gene pool hit it’s zenith on the day you were born.

I remember the time Brian and I were golfing on the back 9 at Augusta, and he told me the story about the time he shot the panther in his grandmother’s chicken coop with the homemade arrow from his grandfather’s weapon chest.

I always knew that when they called on me, as his business partner of 30 years, that this would be the story to tell. His triumphant rise from backwoods North Carolina to a titan of the radio and television industry to one of the greatest private pilots to grace the sky, is foreshadowed in this epic encounter. Using his spartan surroundings to conquer nature, and a threat against his family, channeled into boardroom frenzy and a keen market interest.

To Brian…the captain!

I’ll never forget the conversation we had on the way back from Wal-Mart about VHS tapes, which led to childhood memories, which led to two dudes almost crying simultaneously.

Oh man… when I found out you were a crip…whew.  What a day.

It was the fall of 2006, and I remember it clear as day. Brian approached me with a pitch for a new restaurant in Fuquay, and I remember being knocked off my feet with its genius. It seemed as though all the kinks were already worked out and Brian was ready to get the show on the road.

The menu, he said, would include menu items from all the other fast food chains in town, making our place a one-stop shop that everyone could enjoy. Best of all, Brian had already found a fantastic location in the heart of Fuquay, the old McDonald’s location right next to the local landmark Guardian Angel Thrift Store. Realizing the immense gratification of such a business venture, I immediately transferred $3.5 million into Mr. Shrader’s account.

Three months later, my heart was still full of hope in Brian’s vision, but I began to question why no work had been started on the chosen location. When I went to his house to inquire how soon it would be before I could sit down and enjoy a Taco Bell taco and Zaxby’s chicken strips in the same building, I was in shock when he was no where to be found. All his possessions were there, but no Brian.  It seemed as though he had just disappeared.

I am sure you can all imagine my shock the next day when three federal agents arrived at my front door with handcuffs. There seemed as though there was what only could be described as a simple mix-up, and I found myself being questioned for my part in crimes which included the funding of foreign nationals, the funding of foreign drug cartels and the funding of some other stuff I don’t even understand. It was not long after that I learned that Brian too was being held on the very same charges.

Ha. This is really laughable now that I am sitting writing to you all from within my 5×8 cell here at Atlanta Federal Penitentiary. How a jury of my peers could not see how such a mix-up could happen, I am not too sure, but I am sure it will all work out. The last I saw of Brian, at the trial, he assured me there was a simple mix-up in the purchase of some new stoves and deep fryers and this would all be worked out in the appeal. I have faith in Mr. Shrader, the American hero who only wanted to open a new business in the face of oppression, and I still look forward to the day that I can enjoy Dairy Queen chili cheese hot dogs with a nice hot McFish sandwich — both from the same kitchen.